Mental Health Day
I haven't posted on here in literally 2 years but today seemed fitting. I kind of forgot about Tumblr, and about two years ago I stopped posting. Recently while reminiscing with a friend I discovered my old blog.
I made this blog when I was in 8th grade. I was in 8th grade English class in the computer lab and I saw that a girl across from me had her Tumblr page open. It seemed fun and cool, so right there in 8th grade English class, I made my Tumblr. What I didn't realize though was that I was creating a documentation of my mental health, from 8th grade up until sophomore year in college when I stopped posting completely.
What I didn’t realize until reading my blog, was something that may have been obvious, in my past I was struggling with depression an anxiety. In fact, I hadn’t been struggling with depression and anxiety for only 6 years, I had been struggling with it since I was in the 7.
This may be a strange realization to some people, and I know it sounds weird. How did I not know that I was struggling with depression and anxiety? I was going to a therapist once a week since I was in the 1st grade, I had gone through periods where anxiety overcame me so much that I lost so much weight that I at my lowest weighed 90 lbs when I was 15. At one point in time in the 9th grade, I even cut myself. To top it off every single thing I posted on this blog was about how I was empty and miserable, yet I didn't know I was suffering from those things?
My senior year in high school I got out of an extremely emotionally abusive relationship, that when it ended left me feeling suicidal. I never attempted suicide, but I woke up every day wishing I could die. But because I didn't want to kill myself I thought I wasn't suicidal. I was even rushed to the emergency room one night and unofficially given the diagnosis of depression. But still, I believed that it was a mistake. That I couldn't possibly have depression or suffer from anxiety. I still laughed with my friends, I didn’t cry every day. This was all a mistake, I was dramatic that's it.
After I turned 22, when I went and opened this blog up, and read through things, looked at the posts, looked at my drafts, is when I finally realized I have spent my entire life struggling with depression and anxiety. And you know how I realized this? I realized it because when I looked at this posts and relived my memories I realized for the first time in my life that this wasn't relatable anymore.
I realized I had recovered.
When I was growing up I normalized everything. I normalized the fact that dates with boys made me so nervous that I couldn't eat, that I lost so much weight at one point my underwear became too big. I normalized how empty I felt, that even when I wasn’t crying, the emptiness and self-hate was just a normal part of life. Wanting to die was normal, cutting myself was normal.
But it wasn’t.
When I came to college I took an entry-level course on abnormal psych. In this course, we covered suicidal thoughts, active and passive. Active you want to kill yourself and try to, passive you want to do it but won't try to commit suicide.
All this time I was having passive suicidal thoughts.
My junior year I took a course on Clinical Psych, and I learned about depression in depth. When you're depressed you sleep a lot, you lose joy in things. In high school, I came home and slept for hours, even after getting 8 hours sleep the night before. I never did my homework. I had no desire to do anything.
All this time I was depressed.
While teaching a lecture in Abnormal I re-read about anxiety. Anxiety becomes a problem when it starts affecting your well being I wrote down. My anxiety was so bad I was underweight throughout middle and high school and it would spike and I’d lose weight drastically. I would weigh 90 lbs sometimes.
I all this time I had anxiety.
For my capstone, I volunteered at the office for women and domestic and sexual violence services. I learned about gaslighting, about emotional abuse, and I realized that that last boyfriend in high school wasn’t just being mean, he was being abusive.
I was a survivor of an abusive relatiobship.
Now 15 years later, when I wake up I don’t feel empty inside. I don't feel insecure anymore, and I don't feel jealous or threatened. I have for the first time in my life gained enough weight to be healthy and as a result, I have been able to finish puberty and have my body fully develop.
When I think about my life I don't think about how I want it to end I think about how fortunate I am even when I'm unhappy. I like how I look, I like that Im loud, and that I'm opinionated and funny. I like myself.
My future husband tells me Im beautiful and I believe him not because he’s telling me but because I already know. I don’t worry that one day he’ll stop loving me because I am ‘too much’, ‘crazy’, ‘weird’, I am secure in our relationship and in myself.
It has taken me 15 long hard years to realize that what was happening to me wasn’t normal, that what was happening to me was valid. And I’ve only been able to realize this because for the first time in my life I have stopped feeling the way that I have felt for the past 15 years. Empty, hallow, angry and broken.
It took me 15 years but I have finally recovered. 15 years thinking life would always be this way. I am so fortunate that I have been able to go to therapy not only in high school but in college and to learn and grow and heal.
15 years ago I could have never imagined that I would be here. I am so thankful that I was able to survive those 15 years because if I didn’t I wouldn’t be here.
I am proud of the current me, the past me, and the me that still sometimes gets stuck and struggles with mental health. I have realized that after 15 years I am valid. That my struggles are valid and that I am truly not alone.
Happy national mental health day. My name is Helen, I'm 22 years old and after 15 years I have recovered from depression and anxiety.
