In middle school during English class, the boy behind me kept kicking the back of my chair. After a few days of this, I finally worked up the nerve to turn around and tell him to quit, only to be immediately yelled at by my teacher. She didn't see the whole situation, she just saw me turning to tell off a boy. I was so embarrassed, I cried.
In high school, I began to experience panic attacks and night terrors. My dad took me to the doctor and after being treated for ulcers I had developed from stress, I was diagnosed with a panic disorder. In large classes, I would become so overwhelmed by hearing all the talking during free time that every few weeks I was getting in trouble for walking off campus and going home without informing anyone. After my diagnosis, I was allowed to sit in the counselor's office if I needed to leave class and she would do paper work while I read Alexander Dumas.
When I was 18, my doctor prescribed Xanax to be taken when the attacks got very bad. I took his advice and started yoga and other meditative practices to try and get myself under control. I didn't like the idea of taking medicine for something that was "all in my head" and for a while, I would rather curl up in a ball than take pills. I was fortunate enough to have friends near by who were more perceptive and less stubborn than I was and when I hit a weird spot, my roommate would make sure I would take care of myself.
This sort of thing may sound strange or extreme to some, but for me, it has just been my life. There are a lot of symptoms that I had simply accepted as being part of my "personality." My anxiety never was an issue, every one around me was so understanding. My family never treated me differently because of it. I sort of developed my own biases about mental health issues and as long as it didn't get too bad or frequent, I was able to justify avoiding more serious treatment.
So, last year, things started getting a little... weird. I moved out of state, away from my dad, away from my support group, my school, my friends, I left the nest. As to be expected, it was exciting and terrifying.
For the first time, I was not only going to be living without a roommate, I was going to be a two day's drive away from family. Fortunately I didn't have to come all alone, a friend and I were looking at the same school so he lives a few blocks away, but it was still a huge change.
I arrived safe and sound in June 2014 and by September, I couldn't get out of bed. I had huge plans. I was going to come out here, go to the big deal university I had been accepted to, I was going to cam full time, live in a swaggy loft downtown. I was going to study communication and earn my BA. I was probably going to adopt a puppy.
I got here and I was completely lost. It's that weird sinking sensation you get when you stare at a blank canvas. I wasn't here very long when I realized that the idea of going back to school made me want to puke. All the things I thought I wanted were suddenly super unattractive and some what abhorrent to me. I don't know how it happened but all of a sudden, I couldn't move. It was time to log on myfreecams and I hadn't showered. I needed groceries but I couldn't find the energy to make a shopping list. It was like I started questioning the plan and my entire life fell apart.
I was having nightmares and I needed a refill on my Xanax for the first time in over a year. I called my doctor back home and he couldn't even prescribe an emergency refill because it had been so long since my last visit. I started looking at Wikipedia and learning about depression and anxiety between my 14 hour naps. My friend was bringing me burgers and feeding my cat. He would ask me if I wanted to go out and a few times I made it up the block to have a cup of coffee before I was too exhausted again to even see straight.
After a few weeks of this debilitating numbness, I finally called my friend and told him I needed help. He called Roxie and she came to stay with me for a few months. The weekend after she arrived, they took me to a new doctor and I was put on Prozac. I remember telling you guys, "I think this is depression or something," and I remember having a really hard time just scooting to the end of my bed to get on cam. At my appointment I was given a depression quiz and circled 4s and 5s for severity on every question.
It's funny to me now because I was so embarrassed. I thought like I'm sure most people do, I can handle this, I'm just having a bad day. I was humiliated by the fact that I couldn't even get my emotions under control. I was sorry to my friends who had to come and make sure I was fed. I felt to bad and stupid for not noticing it sooner. But it's like that, I guess. You can't pretend that you can will yourself out of sickness, and I guess that is exactly what I had been hoping I could do.
I consider myself to be a fairly intelligent and open minded person but wow, the judgement I was putting on myself for needing help.
Medication didn't solve all of my problems, of course. I've noticed lots of insecurities and emotional wounds that I need to address but it's kind of neat, I had to leave home completely in order to even face this part of myself.
It all fits, this is the most vulnerable, most misunderstood, and most insecure part of me. And how fitting this couldn't be confronted while surrounded by familial comforts.
I guess there are a few reasons I'm writing this but mostly to track how I feel about it all. Getting it out on "paper" helps me clarify for myself mostly. But I also like sharing. At first I felt really confused, then I was absolutely embarrassed and shamed. For a few months I was feeling the need to apologize to everyone, I'm sorry I let this happen. I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I'm sorry I neglected you...
Now, it's odd maybe, but I feel like this was a really positive opportunity and I want to take advantage of it. A lot of this was brought on by my feeling abandoned by my own plans. I think in order to be more stable in the future, I need to understand that things are not always so clear. I thought maybe I had done something wrong, but instead I was paralyzed by the fear of not having someone else tell me what I should do. There was no one to tell me I was making the right choices, there was no standard to compare myself to.
I am so much less afraid than I was a year ago, five years ago... I'm really proud of myself for surviving the standards I place on myself. I'm excited again. I'm ready to take on the world.
It's easy to be strong when nothing around you ever changes. But hey, my whole world was turned upside down and I made it! It's silly and trivial, it's a stage we all go through, but it's also super duper neat and an excellent opportunity to learn and grow within ourselves.
I think they only thing now that I am actually sorry about is the few months I actually believed I could be perfect, thinking that growth could never hurt, or feeling like I had "made it."
Like, I thought that I messed up because I had feelings. Change is always crazy and often painful and I think that even "healthy" "normal" people are tempted to avoid it. I'm just really happy that I am not normal. I'm happy that I can and want to face change, I'm happy that I have learned to and am continuing to embrace growth.
For a minute there, I could only see myself as defective.
Anyway, I'm not sure where I'm going with this so I'll just leave on a question I have been forgetting to ask myself and in turn, I've been forgetting to ask you:
Are you happy?
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