I almost wrote a disclaimer to apologize for writing a long, serious entry, but I'm stopping myself. Why do I feel I need to apologize? It's my blog!
For a good part of my life I had myself tricked. I convinced myself that I was this relaxed, go-with-the-flow love child who could be spontaneous and carefree and not sweat the small stuff... and maybe I was that way for awhile. But at some point, it switched and my personality was no longer matching the view I had of myself, or the view I had of the "ideal" me.
I've been a pretty anxious person all my life, and since I left home for college, I've also been on an up and down battle with depression. There, it's out there, and I'm acknowledging it. It's not a big deal to put it out in the open, and it's not something I should be ashamed of. In fact, if I want to get better, the first thing I need to do is acknowledge that depression and anxiety are valid medical conditions just like any other sickness or disease.
Even though I thought I was a relaxed person from the start, I remember having issues with anxiety as early as first grade. One of the only memories I have from that year is staring into my completely haphazard mess of a desk and being overwhelmed and anxious, to the point of tears, that I couldn't find a worksheet we were supposed to have. I remember the teacher telling me to calm down, that it wasn't a big deal and that she'd help me clean up my desk, but it was so hard to convince myself that it wasn't the end of the world.
I can then go through every year in school and think of multiple moments where, due to disorganization + anxiety + self-loathing I entered a state of panic about something I'd done wrong. This includes high school as well, and continued into college when each semester I'd continually take on way too many credits because I wanted to look like a hard worker, only to have some sort of emotional breakdown in front of one of my professors because I couldn't handle the pressure. It was this continuous pattern of getting on a natural high for being so proud of everything I could handle at once, but ultimately culminating in a burn-out due to my inability to say no and inability to acknowledge my limits.
When the anxiety hit an all time high, so would my emotions, and I think that's where the depression popped up. People started telling me I was really defensive and overly sensitive, and that I reacted impulsively when my emotions were at a high level. In college, I remember starting to think that all my friends were out to get me, and would sometimes get wrapped up in the paranoia so much that I'd close off from them for awhile until I was able to see the ridiculousness of it all. I couldn't take criticism or jokes if I wasn't in the right mood, and if someone pointed out one of my flaws or something they didn't agree with, I was devastated. I didn't see it as just one part of myself... instead my mind would jump to the conclusion that they hated every part of me, and as a result, I'd start hating every bit of myself until something was able to bring me back up again.
Early on, I developed a way to give myself short-term relief. I discovered that a way to make myself feel better as I grew up was to start taking care of other people, and listening to their problems, and putting them first, and trying to "fix" everything wrong outside of my own existence. I still love to do this, and it is a natural tendency for me to be empathetic with other peoples' situations, and I think that is a powerful thing to have and I value having empathy from the start. However, I've rarely valued my own problems as serious or important as others' and it's about time I start taking care of myself. I'm only 24, and if I don't do something soon my soul is going to become a big glob of bitterness and resentment.
That's why I'm starting to look into my issues deeper, and actually trying to get some outside help. And I'm going to write about it on here, out in the open. I grew up in a family that hid a lot of problems under the rug, and to this day, the elephant in the room is not fully acknowledged. I don't want to be like that, and so as I titled this entry, I'm laying it all out there.
I'm in a good mood today, and I'm usually in a great mood at work. But there are days that pop up every now and then, usually at home alone, when my mind turns dark, and I can't seem to get out of it. Whether the root of the cause is general anxiety, is an attention disorder, or is simply that I've trained myself to live this way, it's time to figure it out.
Time to get busy livin', not get busy dyin'.
Thanks for reading. I'm still going to be my goofy self on here (because that is a part of who I am), but I'm also going to start showing all of me, not just the part I want to be. I hope you like it, but if not, instead of beating myself up for it, I'm going to work on thinking, "So what!"
Peace,
Kelly
Posts
2 comments:
My dear, dear Kelly. I. SO. GET. IT. The first time I remember being anxious about something was when I thought about going off to high school. That was in 2nd grade. At first glance, that seems funny because of how ridiculous it is. When I think about how consuming that panic was and how scared I was, it's really sad. The first time I had a panic attack was the night before the first day of 5th grade. I was afraid to take the bus for the first time. I actually thought I might get molested on the bus, or that there would be an accident and I'd die alone on the side of road with no one there who loved me. Again, ridiculous but also extremely sad.
I went on to become the girl who took on the world, only to silently doubt herself every step of the way. College was hell. I thought there was no way I'd ever be smart enough or prepared enough to do anything other than clean the houses of rich people. And my IQ is somewhere in the high 130s to low 150s and I hold three different degrees.
That anxiety turned into a deep, heavy sadness that i just couldn't shake. One day I realized that the only thing I looked forward to was going to bed at night. I never laughed anymore. I never sang anymore. In an average day, I laugh about every 7 min and sing at least one random song per hour. It's who I am. I hadn't been that girl for months, maybe even years. Laughter and singing was replaced by fidgeting and crying. I was a fucking crier. I HATE criers. I hated crying, but I couldn't help it. Everything was just so freakin sad and overwhelming.
Long story short, the circumstances in my life slowly changed. I vowed never to let it get that bad again without seeking help. I learned to trust God. I started taking Lexapro. I started going to EAP (through work) when I felt like I needed counseling.
I'm lucky. I don't have the kind of depression that keeps you in a fetal position and on suicide watch. But I do have a tendency to have abnormal levels of anxiety that morph into sadness that ferments into depression. Being aware of that is 60% of the battle.
30% is being able to tell people and having brilliant, funny, charming friends who can relate.
10% is taking that little pill every day and saying, "I'll take dependency on a little pill over stoic misery any day of the week." That pill is no different that calcium or vitamin C. My body needs those two things in greater quantities than I can regularly consume in food, so I pop pills so I don't have weak bones and relentless colds. Duh, it's a no-brainer.
You're awesome. I'm proud of you. This was an awe-inspiring post.
I've never read a blog post that sound more like I wrote it than this one.
I always thought I was the most care-free laid-back person ever . . . and then I became an adult and realized that I was wound up and anxious and depressed. And now, at 27, I'm finally learning to unwind and take things as they come. I got help - a counselor that just let me talk it out and didn't try to push medication down my throat (I refuse to take anything that messes with my brain chemistry) and that helped A LOT. I also learned to talk to my friends about things and not try and keep my "perfect face" on with them. Being able to open up to them and realizing that they are just like me helped me more than words can express.
I still get anxious, stressed, and depressed but I'm learning to deal with it better and to be proactive with my problems instead of letting them overwhelm me. I don't know if I'll ever be "cured" but I'll definitely be in control.
Post a Comment