Post by saredith12 on Jun 13, 2016 3:04:58 GMT
It's interesting to me how many times you can tell someone you have depression or anxiety or any mental illness really, and the first thing they say back is "Really? I won't have guessed that about you". Everyone has scars, physical, mental, and emotional, its just whether or not you can see them that matters. For me these scars started young. I've had depression for countless years now it seems, and lucky me got DPD (dependent personally disorder, normally causing panic attacks) to go with it. The one thing to know about this combo is that they are radical opponents. While DPD makes you become attached to people constantly, depression pushes them all away. When one is ok, the other starts having a field day. This was no exception when it came to medicine either. After a while of frustration of many SSRI's no longer working I just gave up and stayed away from the doctors. I was managed ok I thought, until a good friend saw right through the lies I had been developing through the years of knowing them. My need for people to be near me and like me drove me to become a compulsive liar. And when the truth was out, I hurt everyone, a much greater pain than feeling alone. I really thought I had lost everything that mattered. My musical instruments no longer helped me get through the day. Six months went by, carrying this pain before I decided enough was enough. I attempted, and will forever have those scars on my side.
Five days later I was home from the hospital. Done with all of the doctors and psychiatrists that seemed to be talking to me 24/7. And seeing my bed for the first time afterward, I broke down. I didn't regret what I did, only that I hadn't talked to more of my friends honestly. I started having nightmares after that day, which eventually faded into the distant and only reappeared in stress. It did completely solidify a new fear in me of any form of medical area. Even going to get a physical was difficult and caused panic attacks or just drained me afterward. I managed it as best I could, put on a smile and walk through the day. I focused on rebuilding the relationships I broke, becoming truthful and honest. It was hard at first, but its been at least 4 years since I have done it (who would have thought something like lying could be treated as an addiction).
When I came to college everything changed. It was the first time I moved, changed schools (out of state at that), or went somewhere completely separate from friends and family. And my depression and Codependency started all over again. I was having panic attacks bad enough to cause memory loss as they were happening. It took my new friends all of the first semester to convince me to try counseling (thank god it was free). I was terrified for my first few appointments, but with time, I began to open up to the counselor I was with. She didn't just treat me as someone who was sick, but begin building a "toolbox" as we call it, of things for me to use in my moments of panic and centering why these things happen and how I felt as they did. I had nobody who had tried to do that for me before. She gave me the strength to realize I can work through all these problems, I can be ok and normal like everyone else rather than this normal of depression and anxiety that I just got use to through the years. I even got the strength to talk to a psychiatrist this past January (thought I was terrified, and it took everything out of me to not what to do anything for the next few days), who told me of my PTSD, caused by my attempt. It took me 5-6 years to talk to a psychiatrist. Since then I've finally started making progress in caring for myself. My music helps me release and express my problems, fears, troubles, anything you can think of. I've even started my own "Book of Quotes" I suppose you could call it, where I write with passion or record quotes and saying I like so I can read them in a time of panic and calm myself down. I haven't been able to confirm if that will work yet, but I have high hopes. It would be the first solution that I not only found on my own, but created for myself too.
My mental stuff will never go away. Those scars will be for me to carry for the rest of my days, and I'm honestly ok with that. It has shaped a lot of who I am and how I act. Yes, I've had my ups and downs, lows and highs, and I don't regret any of them. But going through all of it, I've learned I'm worth something, and friends who need me just as I have needed them. I still have a long way to go, but I think realizing and embodying that truth is a start.
Five days later I was home from the hospital. Done with all of the doctors and psychiatrists that seemed to be talking to me 24/7. And seeing my bed for the first time afterward, I broke down. I didn't regret what I did, only that I hadn't talked to more of my friends honestly. I started having nightmares after that day, which eventually faded into the distant and only reappeared in stress. It did completely solidify a new fear in me of any form of medical area. Even going to get a physical was difficult and caused panic attacks or just drained me afterward. I managed it as best I could, put on a smile and walk through the day. I focused on rebuilding the relationships I broke, becoming truthful and honest. It was hard at first, but its been at least 4 years since I have done it (who would have thought something like lying could be treated as an addiction).
When I came to college everything changed. It was the first time I moved, changed schools (out of state at that), or went somewhere completely separate from friends and family. And my depression and Codependency started all over again. I was having panic attacks bad enough to cause memory loss as they were happening. It took my new friends all of the first semester to convince me to try counseling (thank god it was free). I was terrified for my first few appointments, but with time, I began to open up to the counselor I was with. She didn't just treat me as someone who was sick, but begin building a "toolbox" as we call it, of things for me to use in my moments of panic and centering why these things happen and how I felt as they did. I had nobody who had tried to do that for me before. She gave me the strength to realize I can work through all these problems, I can be ok and normal like everyone else rather than this normal of depression and anxiety that I just got use to through the years. I even got the strength to talk to a psychiatrist this past January (thought I was terrified, and it took everything out of me to not what to do anything for the next few days), who told me of my PTSD, caused by my attempt. It took me 5-6 years to talk to a psychiatrist. Since then I've finally started making progress in caring for myself. My music helps me release and express my problems, fears, troubles, anything you can think of. I've even started my own "Book of Quotes" I suppose you could call it, where I write with passion or record quotes and saying I like so I can read them in a time of panic and calm myself down. I haven't been able to confirm if that will work yet, but I have high hopes. It would be the first solution that I not only found on my own, but created for myself too.
My mental stuff will never go away. Those scars will be for me to carry for the rest of my days, and I'm honestly ok with that. It has shaped a lot of who I am and how I act. Yes, I've had my ups and downs, lows and highs, and I don't regret any of them. But going through all of it, I've learned I'm worth something, and friends who need me just as I have needed them. I still have a long way to go, but I think realizing and embodying that truth is a start.