This is the first part of a blog series that I introduced back in September, titled A Journey through Self. My goal for this series was to help acknowledge, accept and take accountability for the journey through learning more about myself, the good, bad and ugly, and finally finding a way to get through it all. My hope is that I inspire, or encourage others to look within themselves and do the inner work to become a better person mentally, physically and emotionally.
So, step 1 is titled: Acknowledge. This is possibly the hardest part; but I guess, what would a process really look like if the first step wasn’t the hardest?
It took me a long time to take this step; and even in minimally accepting it, the feeling would still flutter away and I would act as if I didn’t need to acknowledge what was wrong with me. That’s where I began to admit I was wrong.
So, here goes:
I have a problem with my emotions. And I have been treated for moderate depression (through medication only, not therapy) in the past. And I’ve acknowledged that I need to seek a therapist in order to further address the issues I have right now.
I’ve known for years that something was “off” about me. I’d go through periods where I would just aimlessly scroll through my phone, I would feel absolutely nothing, I wouldn’t want to talk, I’d be hyper-paranoid about my perception of things and how others perceived me, I’d even project my insecurities on others, being very adamant that I was burdening my loved ones when in actuality, I probably wasn’t even bothering them at all (mostly because they did not know I was going through anything). I also can also been completely and utterly detached from my family, but want someone to care.
I was and have been doing these things, off and on, for several years now but in January 2019, I finally decided to take a very tiny step in the direction of treatment. I started taking medication to help adjust my sleeping and my overall mood. The crazy thing is, it worked a little; but I wanted to stop.
I’ve never been a fan of medication. When I suffered with chronic migraines (and still do), I was on 3 different medications to help with my muscle pain, migraine reduction, and rescue medication. It was beneficial, but I hated it. I hated every part of it. Eventually I stopped completely. It wasn’t a wise decision, but I never can see myself becoming dependent upon medication to function daily.
So, between that and battling with constant migraines, which led to an emotional roller coaster, I was a complete mess. There were days that I’d wake up and be completely running on empty. Other days, I would wake up on 10, and come crashing down before lunch. There are times where I have completed hated myself, after immediately singing praises in the direction of self-confidence. My mood swings faster than anything else I know; and it really, truly sucks ass.
I can’t really talk to anyone about it; or rather, I have chosen not to burden anyone with what some may call “nothing.” I recently learned that there is anxiety and depression running rampant on both sides of my family, and I want to be able to stop it before it tears me apart. I’ve considered finding a good therapist to talk to, just so I wouldn’t have to unload all of my emotional baggage on my family; as I am trying to learn not to do that because I don’t know what others are going through.
Despite the diagnosis, I’ve tried not to use it. I don’t think it’s because I didn’t want to believe it, but I think it was more that I didn’t think anyone else would believe it. But as I’ve gone through at least a year of putting a name to what I’ve been dealing with, I think it’s finally time to acknowledge and get help. I’ll talk more about what my acceptance of this looks like in my next post.