Okay, I haven't been completely honest about my summer.

I loved my job. I really did. But spending so much time by myself and my inability to handle stress  made me feel awful. I was doing great at work, but I still felt like I was failing, and I couldn't figure out what was wrong or how to fix it. That's when I got my sunburn. It didn't help the depression. Nope. Made it worse. I got behind and my body couldn't keep up with my brain or my to-do list. and my stress kept going up and up. It was a minor miracle I got out of bed and went to work every morning. A bigger one when I got caught up or made it through the day without crying. I moved back in with my parents about a month after the scary thoughts started.  But I didn't feel any better. I started getting up earlier to work longer hours, but I could never keep up. I was still alone. I stopped eating. My work got worse and the pressure kept building. I never told anyone but my dad what was really going on because I was ashamed. I thought it was pathetic that I couldn't keep up because I was stressed and sad. I thought that I should have been stronger than that, you know? I still don't think it's a good excuse.

Now that my workweek is under 50 hours and I have roommates again, I'm doing a lot better. I really am.  And you know? This summer really was a blessing to me. I earned enough money to pay for my own school this semester. I made good friends in an amazing ward. I got to know my Savior better. Hopefully, I grew up a little bit.