My anxiety pretty much started on May 26, 1998...the day I was born. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but I do remember worrying about the weirdest things when I was little. I once walked out of my room to my babysitter watching a show that had a woman giving birth. From then on, I was terrified that I would get pregnant. I was like 5. Obviously I had no idea how the human body worked, but I was petrified. In elementary school, I would see something on TV and be afraid it would happen to me. I remember one specific night that I was scared of going to bed and waking up blind or deaf. From there, I became afraid of throwing up. I would get so worked up to the point that I would actually make myself throw up. As I got older, I started worrying about more logical things, or at least I would like to think they were logical.
My OCD really hit around middle school. Although, my parents kind of saw hints of it when I was younger. They told me that I would be late to my soccer games as a kid because I would sit in the car for 30+ minutes trying to put my shoes and socks on. The seam on the socks always bothered me, and they had to be on just right. I was very particular about how things felt, and I still am to this day.
My depression became apparent in high school. My junior and senior years were not great. Of course, I had fun, but I was miserable half the time. My attendance junior year was at about 70% and senior year it went down to around 60%. The days I was at school, I would get there late. I was embarrassed to go to class because people would say, "Oh look who finally showed up!" Even some of my teachers would make snarky remarks about it. They didn’t realize I actually took those things to heart. Obviously I ended up dreading going to school at all. During my senior year, I was called to the principal's office for the first time ever. She told me if I continued to be late or miss school, I would get detention. When she called me in the second time, I decided to tell her the reason why I was chronically late. Most mornings, I couldn't get out of bed. My parents said I was like a zombie. I remember waking up and without even having a chance to think my own thoughts, a negative one would already be there. No matter how hard they tried to get me out of bed, I wouldn't budge. The days I would get up, it would take me a while, then my OCD would kick in while I was getting ready and would make me even more late. My principal was extremely understanding and wanted to help me in any way she could. She ended up being like a counselor for me, and she was eager to learn more about mental illnesses. And I am inevitably an expert in that department. It is so unfortunate because I am a good student and I love learning new things, I just couldn’t get myself to school.
Sometimes suicidal thoughts accompany my depression. There would be days when I was lying in bed and I felt like I couldn't take it anymore. I can't tell you exactly why I felt this way, but I did. I didn't know why God was making me feel this way, and my meds weren't helping. I felt like I had no way out. I felt like I'd be living that way for forever. When I am low, I get very, very low. When someone says that they are having these thoughts, people seem to always say, "Why do you want to die? You have so much to live for!" But that's the thing, I didn't want to die. I knew I had a full life ahead of me and I wanted a future for myself, but I couldn't see past the moment I was in. I felt like I'd be stuck in that feeling forever.
Until recently, I knew that people had similar struggles, but I didn't even know how to put what I was feeling into words so I didn't exactly know what I was feeling myself! This past year has been a living hell to say the least. I wish I was ready to talk about all of it to make you understand that I am not exaggerating AT ALL that my life was like a series of unfortunate events that kept happening. I started going to a new therapist recently (which is extremely hard for me because I hate having to explain my whole life to someone and explain why I am the way that I am). She asked me, "So what brought you here?" My answer was, "A long, long laundry list of things. If I tell you them all, we will be here for a while."
You know when someone says, "Ah man, my life sucks!" but they really don't mean it? Maybe they have a semi-shitty job, and life isn’t exactly what they envisioned it to be, but they are ultimately okay. When I say my life sucked, I mean IT SUCKED. After I told my new therapist everything, she said, "Well damn, you weren't kidding when you said a long, LONG laundry list. Your life did suck!" That's how bad it was.
Some days are still awful, I’m not going to lie. And I feel like when I do have an amazing day, I’ll be so excited that I am healing, I’m happy, and I start making plans….then the next day comes, and we’re back to square one. I am almost afraid to have a great day because I know what the next day will bring.
Life is hard. I wish I could tell you that I am always strong enough to handle it on my own, but that would be far from the truth. Some days I am, some days I am not, but I am a warrior every day. I am still learning how to go on. I am no where near where I want to be, but I know that God is taking his time with me and has BIG plans for me.
