my mentality on world mental health day

i ran over henry’s brother my last semester of college. i was on the way to my marketing internship to finish my bachelor’s degree, and i heard a loud pop. my heart sank to my guts. i saw my kitten, owen, struggling there as sam and henry looked up at me. i ran inside for towels, wrapped him in my arms and drove him to my uncle’s vet office.

he was dead.

my anxiety was born.

compulsive, obsessive thoughts. literally uncontrollable thoughts of guilt and why. over the cat at first. i read books on coping with anxiety and guilt. i used the strategies sometimes. other times, i gave into my thoughts. it’s hard to explain unless you experience Generalized Anxiety Disorder. my demon is my comfort. my endless, cycling thoughts are my blanket. i get lost in my tight-chested, rhythmic thinking. it helps me connect strategies. sometimes, it’s super me, until it’s tired me. until it’s sick me. until i’m tired of visualizing the awful, terrible sight of that cat dying there. as if me reliving the moment will somehow change or save something. my mind rationally knows that’s an impossibility, but anxiety persists.

it started with the cat and intruded into all areas of thought. eventually, i decided to try professional help. i had a boyfriend for a short time who shamed me for trying to take medication and for discussing it openly like i’m doing right now. so, i let that shame in, and i quit a great course of psychiatric treatment (i mean, we’re talking like a low dose of antidepressants — not straight jackets, here). i won’t go into all the years of suffering i did inside. everyone else loved my high-performing personality. only my close friends saw the truth of the ugly depression when i couldn’t get out of bed to keep my plans when i knew they would forgive me.

mental health became a more taboo subject in our society, and i resolved to myself that everyone has issues of some form, so as long as i was aware and coping in some form with mine – i was doing “all right.” i finally tiptoed around it with my general practitioner when my job got so high stress four years ago that i needed something chemical. i started trying some low dose antidepressants with her. three panic attacks, a case of shingles, a round of antibiotics, which led to a surprise pregnancy later [on no medication]: here we are today.

today, i have been seeing a freaking awesome psychiatrist for the better part of a year. it’s one of the best decisions of my life. i talk to a counselor on top of that when i feel like it. also one of the highlights of my life. therapy has given me the ability to reach mental wellness heights that make me want to kick past-me. therapy is the bee’s knees. it’s just as cool as it looks like in the movies. the thing is, i spent so many years in denial about needing to focus on the wellness of my mentality that i never was honest enough to be evaluated by a mental health professional. now that i have been, i am free. i know who i am, i know my boundaries, and i know my truths.

yes, i am extremely open about my journey. i want others who struggle with anxiety and double depression, like me, or something greater or lesser, to know it’s easy to seek a course of treatment to feel better. in a matter of months, i felt better. i dare say, i’m mighty close to feeling my dang best. i haven’t had an alcoholic drink in 140 days, and i take two medications a day that make me feel balanced, clear, and productive. i’ve lost thirteen pounds without trying. i feel like a child again inside. i feel like the me i was before i was bullied in middle school. that’s how clear and lifted the heaviness in my heart feels.

there were years i couldn’t paint because i couldn’t see through that eye in my soul. that has been so opened to me now. i cannot convey to anyone how beautiful that feels to me, except through the life i’m living today and through this message. and it’s not just a chemical adjustment. it’s knowing i have been strong enough to embark on this journey and continue walking through it with strategies from a spiritual and practical counselor i can entrust with my life. it’s knowing i have that accountability, support and history when i have no one else, even though i have so many more in my support system beyond my counselor and my psychiatrist. there have been people like that ex-boyfriend who have literally shamed me, made inappropriate comments about me and my journey recently to me and my loved ones, and that’s just the name of this game. but i’ll tell you this, nothing feels better than victory over what has weighed down my mind for 7-9 years. i’m leaning into the positive stuff and the positive people who share the same goal. here’s to being more me than i’ve been in a decade. nice to meet you to all those who are confused at the girl you’re seeing lately. Happy World Mental Health Day 2017.

shut up.

i get embarrassed sometimes
for posting such self-indulgent thoughts that are uninteresting for the majority.
but often i am grateful
to have a forum to dump my thoughts to some anonymous audience.
it’s therapeudic to pretend someone cares.
as an only child, i’ve lived a lot of life inside of my head. i have spent many moments discovering things alone. since i was young, i have had the urge to fill notebooks with my words and drawings, documenting the experiences and discoveries of my little life.
i imagine those frivilous things as my legacy.
my little spiral notebooks,
my sketchbooks,
my journals,
my paintings,
my social media,
my blog.
i like and loathe them all for different reasons.
i like my blog, because in weeks like this one–i have had a place to clear my murky head. i’ve been able to dump my thoughts in a semi-organized way, and as time organizes and clears my mind i can watch things resolve. this brings me peace.
i loathe my blog because it’s all about me and my point of view. it’s selfish, it’s shallow and inauthentic at times. sometimes i’m wrong about things. looking back and seeing how my brain distorted the truth is sometimes disappointing and puzzling.
i like my journal, because it is mostly about others. i write in detail about the people who fill up my days, how they affect me and how i hope to affect them. it has created a map of my life and often helps me see how i’ve grown based on my experiences with others.
i loathe my journal, because there are many characters in it i wish had not existed, or at least for the length of time they did. the memories are inked, and i beat myself up sometimes looking back at the pages seeing the justifications i made and the derealizations i experienced.
i talk a lot. i write a lot. it’s been said i have “the gift of gab.” i like to listen as much as i like to talk (my dad would disagree). i want to understand how other people view the world so that i can compare it to what i have found true of the world. that’s so exciting to me, as nerdy as it sounds. i’m attracted to quiet people, because i know they observe a lot more than i do. i find that so intriguing and intimidating. their silence and careful words keep me hanging on their words.
though i say a lot, ultimately i am a doer, or an “activator” (according to my strengthsfinder analysis i did for work). i act before i think a lot (and then i think about how i acted). sometimes i need to make the wrong decision to learn (and then i write about it!). i know we’re judged by what we do and not what we say, and that’s the basis of the erin operation. i’m a master observer in this respect, because my perception of people’s motives based on their actions is usually correct.
usually.
when i am not too stubborn to see the truth.
i’m about to take a break from analyzing the current situation that’s bothering me and enjoy my life. i can’t promise i won’t blog further about it if i feel the need, but for now i have thought it to death and it’s time to think of things that are thinking of me.
case closed.