Sunday, November 2, 2014

One Flew Directly into the Cuckoo's Nest

Well, that sure was an inspiring last entry.... *sarcasmsarcasmsarcasm*

Here's the deal: I was in a really bad (apparently also very angsty) spot. For the past year, I've been struggling with more anxiety than usual. I mean, I've always had anxiety issues, but the past year has been pretty bad. I started to experience highs of of anxiety followed by lows of severe depression. I wasn't sleeping, and when I would sleep, I had night terrors. I started sleepwalking (which is apparently very concerning in adults...). I didn't remember going to class. I stopped cleaning my apartment. Basically, my life was falling apart.

The worst part was, I didn't tell anybody. I mean, I would tell people I was having a bad day, that I didn't feel well, that my anxiety was getting the best of me, etc. But I didn't let anyone know how deep my depression was getting.

I've become an expert at the whole "fake it until you make it" thing.

About two months ago though, I started making plans. Plans like, I only need to "make it" until mom's birthday. Plans like, commonly used medications for suicide google search.

I just did not want to exist. I hated me. All of me. Not aspects of my personality. But, who I was at the core of me, I hated that being. I wanted to disappear.

Finally, I went to a school counselor. I figured, I should at least try, right? My mom's birthday is at the end of October. We were at October 15th, and I couldn't see myself making it one more day. I thought that maybe the counselor could keep me alive for a couple more weeks at least.

Long story short, I was placed in a treatment facility because I was danger to myself.

I don't think most rational people ever imagine themselves in this situation. So, I had trouble wrapping my mind around it. I was in a freakin' loony bin! (I have censored my actual thoughts in consideration of anyone who might be reading this)

The first night I cried and worried and cried some more. I wanted to leave. I wanted my mom. I wanted my shoes.

There's no feeling quite like having all of your belongings and your freedom taken from you. It was humbling to say the least. Also, this may be TMI, but Auntie Flo was visiting me that week, sooooo that was super rad.


It sucked. The first few days at least. I thought, why am here with these people? I'm not a drug addict, and I never actually attempted suicide. So what can I possibly learn from them?

The answer was A LOT.

There was such an honesty in the groups about how we were feeling. And no judgement. Just support and advice and life lessons. Once I opened up and let "these people" in, I found out I was in the company of some pretty amazing and resilient folks.  And we became, I believe, lifelong friends.

But, all too quickly, it was time to leave.

When I came back to my clean (because my parents are beautiful people) apartment, things were great! I felt amazing. But then the weekend passed. I had to talk to the university, had to go back to work (although I got a promotion, score!), had to choose what to tell people, had to brace myself for the questions, the judgement, had And previously, I had not been doing a stellar job of living, so this was troublesome.

Everything was okay, though, until October 30th hit: Mom's birthday. I don't really know how to explain the feeling. But, it was my expiration date. The last day I told myself I had to live through. I didn't sleep. I didn't really move all day. The next was even weirder. I wasn't really supposed to be here. I tried to imagine everything I was living for and could not think of a single thing. I went off my meds for two days. Everything was horrible.

It took some talking with a buddy I met on the inside (of the treatment facility), some inspiring quotes, a work out, talking with friends, a few episodes of Psych, strawberries, calling my mom, and my Grandma's lasagna, but I prevailed.

I'm still here. Which, to you may seem simple and obvious, but to me is monumental.

So, if you somehow stumble upon this rambling blog-like thing and you're struggling with depression, anxiety, or whatever else, please please PLEASE don't be hesitant to let someone you trust know about your feelings. Get the help you deserve and need. Because you are an amazing person. How can I confidently say that? Because I believe we all have the capacity to be amazing people. But, unfortunately, we don't always let ourselves be.

I'm sure there will be more stories later on, definitely more blog posts (I need to at least be accountable to myself), but for now, I have to eat breakfast and carpe this diem.


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