Discovered in
December that my Anxiety is more powerful than my Depression at the moment, but
April challenged that. Big time. I held it together at work, but broke down on
breaks with Amanda (thank you for listening). I'd come home, and just lay in
bed, chewing food cause I knew I needed to eat but really there was no
satisfaction (still isn't really though I'm trying). Friends asked me if I
wanted to check into a hospital which only drove my anxiety up (anxiety wanted
to win, that ho), and I found that mental health providers in Oregon really
lack in bedside manner and support.
I'm not proud of where I am in my life. I'm sure many who I went to high school with, if they even thought about me at all (I'm not saying that to put myself down, it's just that I was kind of a nobody in my class for the most part), thought I would go on to some great college and become some high-powered person. Instead, I made decisions where I let fear control me. And it made me lose friends. Luckily, I was able to get some of those friends back (Hayley and Ash), but some I feel are gone forever. And I’m not good with that, but am starting to become okay with it, because I realize that while I lost good people, they also lost someone. One thing Hayley told me during our last fight before I moved out of our apartment was that I wasn’t a bad person, but that I had basically become something that was driving people away. I own that. I get that. But some of it goes both ways, and if they don’t understand that a lot of my actions were driven by depression and anxiety, then that’s on them. I’m not saying all my actions were, but a majority were. Mental illness is a bitch.
I live in a
situation where I feel I have nothing. And most days I’m able to distract
myself enough to not think about that. Weekends come and I’m not able to. So I
try. And I fight. And some days I need a little help so I take my as-needed
medication for those really tough moments. But you know what’s a bitch about
that as-needed medication. My doctor will only prescribe so many to me per a
period of months. She expects my therapist to be able to deal with the rest.
Really? So what am I supposed to do when I’m having an anxiety attack at 2 AM?
When I had to be hospitalized in December, they asked me why I hadn’t taken any
of these pills. I told them because my doctor only gives me so many and because
I have to ration them because she won’t give me more. I understand that I need
to be able to learn other coping ways besides medication, but when it’s 2 AM
and you are afraid to set foot in your bedroom, let alone lay in your bed, and
you can’t breathe, and you can’t stop thinking about how much easier it would
be to just die, you need a damn pill to help calm those feelings down sometimes
so you can at least start thinking rationally.
I have been
suicidal off and on since I was 15. What’s funny is the moments you would think
would cause me to be that way, those crisis points, like losing my mom, were
not the moments I felt suicidal. When I went to the hospital in December and
told them I was suicidal, well, it wasn’t that they didn’t believe me, but they
didn’t think I was really to the level where I’d actually do it. So planning
the suicide note, one each for my dad, my sister, my brother, and two of the
people I consider my best friends at this point in my life, and knowing that I
have enough pills to take me out pretty quickly isn’t suicidal enough for you?
The clinic they
sent me to, instead of admitting me to the hospital, was… lackluster at best. I
won’t go into too much detail, but it was basically a waystation. They just
wanted to make sure you weren’t going to off yourself but you weren’t really
allowed to talk too much about what got you there in the first place. But I can
see why they didn’t think they needed to admit me to the hospital. There were
people that literally cried all day long. I guess you could say I am
high-functioning. I can usually make it through a whole day. I put on a good
act I guess.
Where is this
rambling going? I guess I just get bogged down by a few things:
- People telling me things like “Are you afraid you’re going to have fun?” when I’m scared to go to a social event. Luckily, my best friend Hayley has learned that if she throws a party and I don’t go it isn’t because I don’t want to or it isn’t because I don’t love her. It’s because I just can’t. I would love to. I sit here many days thinking about all these things I would love to do and then the physical sensations of anxiety take over and it’s just too much. So no I’m not afraid of having fun, but what I’m afraid of is just everything else. And you saying things like this does not help me or anyone else with these issues.
- People claiming they have mental health issues but refusing to seek treatment. The reason I have an issue with this is because what happens is that they may not actually have any mental health issues and when they’re “better” then people look at them and compare them to those who have actual mental health issues and go to those people and say things like “Well this person got over their issues, why can’t you just get over yours?” It isn’t that easy. And I’m not saying that if you don’t have the ability to seek mental health treatment/evaluation that you are in this category. I’m talking about those who do have the ability to seek that treatment and just refuse to.
- Making fun of other issues. I have been diagnosed with weather phobia. My region has been hit by a particularly strong winter this year. So when we have snow in the forecast, my anxiety ramps up. Before I changed jobs, I was able to schedule time off when I saw snow in the forecast. There were times where co-workers who knew my issues would make little comments about this. This does nothing to help. If I tell you about my diagnosed mental health issues, making fun of them only exacerbates them.
I just want to
put my voice out there I guess as with everything going on with health care in
America right now, mental health is at a forefront of this, and Oregon is
ranked low on mental health. I’ve experienced that in the past month myself. Because
of this, I’m now going to be volunteering with the Crisis Text Line as of June,
so I can start giving back to those who have helped me.
Every day is a
struggle. Yesterday I was fine. Today I had to take two of my panic pills as I
call them. Tomorrow will probably be the same. Monday who knows? Right now, I’m
alive. And part of what keeps me alive is knowing that at least ten people
would be sad and hurt if I was gone. And I have a group of people right now that I can turn to for support, whether they like it or not (hehe), and I am so thankful for. And for right now that’s enough.
