Hello guys,
today I want to talk to you about something serious: Anxiety, existential crises and depression are only a few key words to describe what has been a part of my life for around 6 years now. If you're easily triggered, please make sure you're feeling safe or maybe do not read this until you're in a more stable mental state.
Why I've decided to make a post on this? Well, the last few months have been quite difficult for me and this week I'm feeling like I'm finally starting to make progress; I wanted to share this fragile piece of hope and maybe let this blog be some kind of diary for me to see how far I've come and where I maybe need to invest some more work. Also I really need to get the story out of my system since not many people know about this; and sometimes talking to a heap of strangers on the internet can actually be easier than talking to someone in person.
I've been struggling with mental health problems for a good 6 years now; it's first appearance even before completing my 12th year of life. I've always had problems with my self-confidence. When I was 9, I was a chronic liar to the point where it would affect my whole life; I always felt like the way I truly was wouldn't be enough or even "likeable enough" to make people accept me - I made up stories about how I had been kidnapped when I was 6, about how I were a masterful guitar player or how I've met celebrities - it all was quite the mess and when my lies finally got debunked people were mad and my last friends turned away. Needless to say I was extremely happy when my family moved to another place where I could have a fresh new start.
But unfortunately things didn't get better. Although I had stopped with the lying and tried to make friends just as the kid I was at that time, the other kids didn't seem to like me very much. Some really bad things started going down and I was bullied until even my last hope was gone and I felt all alone and completely worthless. Things didn't get any easier up until I was 16; where I finally felt like a certain group of people (not necessarily good friends, but at least I had someone) could actually accept me as one of them.
Since then I didn't really care about what happened earlier in my life, I decided not to think about it anymore and proceeded living my life up until two years ago, when a lot of that stuff came back around and pulled me down into this really dark place where it was starting to get really hard to get out alone.
Daily stuff that had never been a difficulty started to feel like an unmanageable task; things I loved to do my whole life didn't feel like much fun anymore; I stopped doing most of my hobbies and work became unbearable. It wasn't until then when I realized I had to do something about this. I didn't feel ill or like it was a serious threat in any way; I just thought that maybe this was a little worse than normal and maybe I should do something about it but I couldn't wrap my head around it entirely.
A few weeks later I got hospitalized and stayed in a psychic ward for two months. I honestly don't want to talk about this time (yet), I will most definitely write something about it at some point since it was a hard time but also helped me quite a lot to accept that I really was sick and needed help - but let's not talk about this in any detail now.
When I got out, things seemed to be better. I started a new phase in my life - at least it felt like that - and tried some new jobs in the social field. Stuff was being okay and I landed myself a spot in a very prestigious catholic private school to become a child care worker. But things again became difficult and I was getting more and more frustrated about how everyone seemed to be perfectly able to put up with their daily life except me. I felt like I was just being lazy or stupid or simply not good enough to do anything; every task seemed like a huge pile of impossible stress.
I knew I had to do something quickly this time. I called the psychiatric ward I had been at the last time; I managed things with my school and luckily got the chance to take a year off to focus on my mental health.
Yesterday I had my first appointment with my new therapist. She's a very friendly and warm-hearted lady and I really feel like I can make it work this time.
I really want to keep this "diary" thing updated so I can see how far I've come and how hard I worked to get to the point where I am today; being finally able to accept the fact that I really am sick and I am worth getting help (which was a big step for me to admit).
Sorry that today's post isn't the usual kind of stuff, but I still hope you like it and maybe get to see a little more of what's going on in my mind all the time - it can get difficult for relatives and friends of depressed people to understand how much the person they love really struggles.
Rebecca
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