When help doesn’t help

I’ve been in therapy for years now. I have tried countless meds. I have shared my story and my struggles. I’ve taken all the steps that people say to. I didn’t hide my mental health struggle. I reached out for help. And I’ve worked hard, gosh I’ve worked so hard. I’ve tried my best to work the resources. But all of these things, that are supposed to help, to make things get better, they haven’t. Five years later and I’m still so deep in my own struggles.

For many people getting help doesn’t truly make a difference.  They’re able to find happiness again. And I hope that one day that will happen for me. Sometimes it is just so hard to hold on to that idea, that hope. Especially when you’ve seen so many people flourish after just taking advantage of a fraction of the resources you’ve been using for years.

The Holidays

Christmas is quickly approaching. For me, the last two Christmases have been the most bittersweet days.

On one hand I love it. I finally get to have the pure Christmas experience. Waking up on the 25th to a decorated Christmas tree, with family all around me. Spending the day watching movies, playing board games, decorating ginger bread houses that have were made from scratch the day before.

But on the other hand I’m full of heartache. And so conflicted. Do I call the family that I have been so hurt by? Do I let the past go, if only for one day. Do I tell them that I love them, and that I’m sorry that I can’t see them. Do I put my own feelings, my own hurt and anger aside.

I’ve ignored texts for weeks now. “What do you want for Christmas?” “Are you going to come visit when you’re on break?”

I know that I am going to try and have fun. Enjoy the holidays. Friendmas, Christmas, New Years. But how will family fit in? Will my anxiety and depression keep me from truly enjoying myself.

It sucks that I become so anxious about what is the most festive time of the year. But it’s also something that I’ve become so accustomed to.

Self Deprecating

Depression can take a toll on every aspect of your life. For me, when it comes to my self image, it means constantly criticizing myself. It’s pointing out ever possible flaw, making me focus on every little insecurity.

As if that isn’t enough, medications for depression and anxiety can have a significant effect on your body. For me, my weight has fluctuated as much as 14 pounds in 2 weeks. My closet consists of oversized shirts, and jeans in about 5 different sizes. All so that when my weight inevitably fluctuates, I can try my hardest not to focus on it and already have clothes that will somewhat fit.

Todays culture seems to revolve around self deprecating remarks. The majority of my twitter feed is people putting themselves down, but acceptably, with hundreds of retweets. All because it is hidden behind the ideal that it’s funny. I believe that it is important to recognize your flaws, and work to improve them. But constantly focusing on them, and making jokes, putting yourself down? I don’t understand it.

Being stuck in your depression, and such a negative mindset is miserable. But we should all try to take a second before making jokes about our downfalls. Most of the times self deprecating jokes are so crushingly unfunny. Because for whoever made it, they know that it is completely true.

Self Harm… Part II

If you’ve read my previous post, you know that I have been a cutter for a while now. It’s become a negative coping skill that I turn to quite often. It has always been something that even though I do it, I’ve never really understood why.

Of course there is the obvious fact that it is a distraction and something to focus on, it has always perplexed me how I could physically harm myself. But last night as I looked myself in the mirror and took a razor blade to myself, something clicked. I cut because it makes me feel as though my pain is justified.

Every day I feel so hurt. Between depression, anxiety, and just my general disfunction, I always feel upset, feel hurt. But I also feel guilty for feeling this way. Like it isn’t justified. But when I’m cutting, I can see all my scars, I can see blood. In the moment, although I’m in pain it feels justified. It feels like I finally have a right to feel hurt.

Although I hate that I cut, last night it finally made sense to me. It isn’t for a distraction. It is for a moment of relief from the guilt.

Final Exams

If your in college, than this can be a really stressful time. Final exams are quickly approaching, and have even started for many. It’s my first semester in college, so it’s my first time experiencing this. Of course I had finals in high school, but they were never such a big deal. Luckily I only have three exams this semester.

I have to say, I personally am not that stressed. There are a million things in my life that I am constantly stressed about, so it’s weird that this isn’t that big of a deal to me. Of course I’m spending the entire week in the library studying though. It just seems like something that I can prepare for, and that I am in control of the outcome.

One thing that really has bothered me about finals is everyone around me. It’s not that they are stressed or overwhelmed. I completely understand why they feel that way. It’s that they are posting on twitter and instagram that they wish they were dead. Or, they are jokingly saying that they would pay someone to kill them. This is so not ok to me. As someone who constantly struggles with depression and suicidal thoughts, in no way are those jokes funny.

It’s important to remember that many times when people with depression are struggling they do their best to hide it. You never know who will see these joking posts and be offended or hurt.

After the Storm

It’s been a while.

I’ve been sort of distant from everything, everyone.

Last month was hard, it was chaotic, it was the perfect storm. I thought my dad was going to die. I had a more than hard reunion with my brother. I was caught up in family drama. I got behind in school. And I switched meds yet again.

But I’ve been home for a while now. My dad is stable, and even went home today. I should be caught up in school by now, but focusing is hard. I feel like I should be settled by now. Like I shouldn’t still feel like everything is chaotic and stressful.

But in all honesty things are so much worse now. When everything was happening I was forced to live in the moment. And as much crazy and sadness I was around, I also had my support system. Now I just feel lost.

My depression and anxiety are at an all time high. I have a really hard time getting to class, and when I do it takes a lot not to have a panic attack. I did have one on Monday and started balling when my teacher asked if I was ok.

Anxiety sucks. Depression sucks. And neither one of them give a fuck about your schedule or your goals.

The Battle

Addiction sucks.

 

It’s that simple…

Well, at least the big picture is that simple. It gets more complicated when you’re close to it. When it comes to your relationship with the addict it gets more complicated. It can be hard to separate the person from the disease. How much of the lies and the constant insults are truly meant?

My dad is in the hospital currently. As soon as I heard I got a flight and flew up to see him. I’ve been in the state for a week and yet have only been able to get myself to the hospital twice. It is so hard to see him in such a horrid state. He’s in the ICU. Yet in an ironic way he looks healthier than he has in years. He is decently hydrated and oxygenated for the first time in years. His skin actually has color. But for the first several days he was intubated, although he is now finally waking up.

But him being awake almost makes it harder to see him. No, it definitely makes it harder. He’s been in the hospital for 11 days. That’s 11 days away from alcohol. Which means that he is with drawing. So he is irritable. He even punched a nurse. SO he is restrained. With good reason, however it is hard to see him tied down.

It is hard to decide whether I need to be here near him, or if I should go home. I am missing class. College class, so I as missing a lot of work. I’m falling farther and farther behind. And I hate seeing him. He has hurt me (emotionally) several times. However, is it him or the disease?? STUPID ADDICTION!