My Mental Health Journey
I started noticing little things about myself that I hadn’t noticed before when I was around the age of 15. My appetite was next to zero, all I wanted to do was sleep and I was the most irritable person in the world; at night all I could do was lay in bed and think about all the embarrassing or awful things I had done in my young life so far—which led to insomnia all through high school, I had a hard time being places where there were lots of people and I would find myself literally frozen in place because I couldn’t make a decision about something. In conversation with a friend, I had very casually mentioned my symptoms and that I wasn’t sure what was going on, but it didn’t feel right.
After about a year I finally realized that I was dealing with some symptoms of depression and anxiety. On a particularly “bad” day, my dad came into my room and asked if I was okay and I told him “No Dad, I think I’m depressed. Do you think Mom will come talk to me about it?” I asked for my mom because she is a retired RN, I figured some insight from someone in the medical field could help me make sense of what was happening right?
Not so much…Instead, my Mom’s response when my Dad asked her to come down and talk to me because I think I might be depressed was “What does she have to be depressed about? She’s just over-reacting, she’ll be fine”.
Fast forward 4 or 5 years, I finally gather the strength to go seek therapy and try to gain some control over what is going on because it has only gotten worse. My panic attacks were MUCH more frequent, and scary compared to when I was a teenager (I once had one where I wasn’t too far from completely checking out mentally, my now husband was the one who brought me back that time.).
After speaking to my family docter I got referred to a therapist. I was very nervous going to that first appointment, I didn’t know what to expect. I figured no one cared about what was happening to me so this guy wouldn’t either (I wasn’t wrong). I walk into his office and I sit down and I tell him how I have been feeling lately, and he laughs. No attempt to cover it up, no apology. I stayed for the rest of the session and walked out to the car and just dissolved into a puddle of defeat.
It was at least 10 years before I went to therapy again. But the important thing is that I eventually did go back and I found someone that I am comfortable speaking with which is the best feeling I could have.
Please, always keep going back. Even when you think you can’t it will ALWAYS be worth it because for every reason not to go to therapy, there are always ten reasons to go!
We owe it to ourselves to try and find what we need to feel at peace.