I don't really want to get into my childhood too much, but I think that your upbringing has a lot to do with who you are when you get older. It changes the way you interact with people and the way you see the world in general. Because of some things that I'd rather not mention, I have very limited memory from before I was about 13. According to my therapist, my brain went into survival mode and blocked out any memory that was traumatic to me. So while a lot of other kids remembered their 7th birthday party or their first day of elementary school, I have a grey cloud of nothing. There are a few things that I remember, but I don't know if I actually remember them or if I have imagined memories because someone told me about them. Anyway, as I grew and changed and came to be the person I am today, I struggled with anxiety, manic depression, and panic attacks. I think that now they've changed the term "manic depression" to "bipolar disorder" or something but I'm not sure if they are the same.
So when I was about 14 or 15, I started seeing a psychiatrist. The first one I saw, I really didn't like very much. He fed me some antidepressants, sleeping pills, and xanax for when I had panic attacks. For a few months, I felt like a zombie. Some medicines meant to help with depression don't necessarily make you feel happy, they just make you feel nothing. So after a few months of wandering around not knowing what day it was, he changed my medicine, then the next one did nothing, so it was changed again, then I started having panic attacks, so he changed it again. Now I know that this is what a psychiatrist does, they monitor your medicine, they are not therapists and are not responsible for hearing your life story. But this particular psychiatrist didn't really seem to let me talk at all. He assumed I didn't know what I was talking about since I was so young. So since my parents weren't very fond of him either, we switched to a different psychiatrist. This happened a few times until I finally found one that I liked and was also seeing a therapist once a week. I cannot tell you how much my therapist helped me. I never really told many people that I went to therapy because I thought people would think I was crazy. That one hour session with my therapist every week just helped me to get everything off my chest. He really made me think about why I am the way I am and how things in my past have affected everything I do today. He gave me tools to help prevent panic attacks when I can feel them coming on, like counting and breathing techniques. I still struggle today with anxiety and depression, but I think that if I had not seen a doctor, I would've been a lot worse.
It's still really, really hard sometimes. Some days I still feel like giving up on everything. It's so hard to explain the feelings I have. I wanted to share something I wrote a few months ago when I was going through a tough time. It is probably the only way I could possibly explain how I feel...
Are you having suicidal thoughts? This is always one of the first questions I get asked. Of course I say no. What do I do when I go to a doctor? Act like nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. The thing about people with messed up brains is that it is so easy to fake happiness. Because we're doing it all the time. The only time I don't pretend is when I'm alone. Sometimes I forget who I am because I'm always putting on an act. If I didn't, then people would know. People would know that something isn't right. People would know that I am not hearing anything that they are saying. The noises inside my head are too loud to let anyone else in. My head is in a constant dizziness and I am always distracted. People have to yell to get my attention. I stare into space all the time, even while having a conversation with someone. I can always talk my way out of a sticky situation. We're like mental macgyvers.
All these things that happened to me as a child and all of the things that are out of balance in my brain have manifested themselves into a deep depression that is so crippling that it leaves you hoping that you won't wake up. It is one of those things that if you don't have it, there is no possible way for you to understand how it feels. There is a looming wave of darkness that swallows you whole and keeps you underneath it's shadow. It feels like I'm drowning some days and I can't get enough air into my lungs. Some days I cry and I scream until my voice is hoarse. Other days, I am completely devoid of all emotion. The medication acts as a dimmer to turn down these feelings, but sometimes it feels like I'm just covering it up.
So please, if you're suffering from something like this, tell someone. Even though there is not really a cure-all for it, there are ways to help and feel better at least for some of the time. I've sat here after I've written this for a long time wondering if I should post this... I just want to give a little insight if you know someone with anxiety and depression. And if that someone is you, just know that you're not alone.
x Christa
