An invitation to a mental health life events function and my life's RSVP to repression, stress, being valueless and panic that comes with it. Follow the journeys in this blog …

I can say that many of my peers were not friends but closer to the definition of peers… just being visible. I did have one close friend that lived next door to me after my parents had moved us to a new neighborhood. She was a couple years younger than me, but we enjoyed the same things and got along great. Finally. I had someone I could relate to and could relate to me. A light in a life that seemed to me so dark.

Things at home had started to become difficult and uncomfortable. My father was very short tempered and I felt like I needed to walk on eggshells around him. From the age of thirteen right up through adulthood I could not understand what had happened to his demeanor. He was always strong and showed a love for me, but now he was distant and angry constantly. I would try to talk to him about it but he would change the subject and say he was fine. I spoke with my mother about it and she told me he had not been feeling well but would be fine. I stayed in my room with the door shut and concentrated on homework, art, listening to music, and confiding in my close friend.

At fourteen, life came knocking again. My father said he wanted to talk to me at the kitchen table. I thought “Did I do something wrong?” Trying to frantically figure it out as I descended the stairs and turned to go into the kitchen I was at a loss. My mother was out shopping at the time so it was just me and my father. I sat down and he proceeded to tell me, “You are not allowed to see, or talk to the girl next door.” “Why?” I asked. “Because, I said so.” was the response. Now, I will say to this day I am not a fan of that response. It is evasive and vague and explains nothing other than to assert that I am lowly. I ran back upstairs, slammed my door, and cried uncontrollably for hours. I had just lost my friend and had no idea why, how or what had happened to cause this. It took the next four days of questioning my mother to find out what had happened. My father was a heavy smoker and apparently my friend’s father had made some comments to my father regarding this habit. I never found out exactly what was said, but my father had cut all ties with the neighbors for him and me. My mother was allowed to speak with my friend’s mother if she wanted to. Knock, knock,,, life regrets to inform you that you have become a causality of war, your thoughts and feelings will be returned to you so you can bury them. It was the first time I can remember not thinking about why this was happening, or what I had done wrong, but thinking why am I even here?

I decided I needed to speak with someone but didn’t really know who. I talked to my mother somewhat but didn’t want to trouble her further when I saw her trying to handle things with my father and handle her other tasks. I decided to speak with a school counselor. The counselor was a good sounding board but nothing changed, and I progressed to put up more emotional walls to shut not only people out but to shut out life as well.

For the next two years, I learned to function to get through my life. I started helping my mother as much as possible with household chores and shopping. I engrossed myself in activites to keep my mind off of what was happening in reality, but things worsened as shouting and arguing matches between my parents became more frequent. When I reached sixteen, I expected they were going to get divorced and it was probably for the best. That didn’t happen. They stayed together, continued to argue, and I decided to find further help in a visit to my family doctor.

My family doctor, who had treated me since I was five, was a blessing in the fact he listened and wasn’t afraid to prescribe medications he truly believed to be effective. An old school doctor with a good heart and a good mind, that is exteremly hard to find these days. When I told him what was going on and how I was feeling and about the emotions pouring out of me he didn’t seem surprised. At the time it didn’t mean much, but had I really caught on to that fact, I feel it could have helped me discover then what I would not find out for many, many years. Anyway, I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and seasonal depression disorder. He prescribed a medication and asked to see me again in two weeks.
It only took two days to return to the office. I had taken the medication as directed only to find out that when it worked it worked really well but when it wore off I wanted to jump off a bridge. He wanted to work with me to regulate the dosage, but I was too afraid. I knew with the way it made me feel and everything going on in my life this could result in the possiblity of suicide and that was something I didn’t want. I thanked him and explained I wasn’t comfortable with it. I stopped the medication and would do the best I could to get through on my own. Little did I know that on my own would be until I reached the age of thirty-six and by that time the mental illness had progressed.

So, life is not always a bowl of cherries and can sometimes just be the pits. I feel that I did not address my issues soon enough, partially because I did not understand what it meant to have mental health issues. It is not like having an infection that clears up after a round of antibiotics or a cut that heals on its own. This is something I have come to terms with – I have mental health issues. In dealing with them and I have benefitted in understanding why I react as I do and what I can try to do to minimize severe or unwanted reactions. Some examples that are working for me are taking medication, avoiding triggers as much as possible, understanding that you can’t change people if they don’t want to, and not seeing yourself as always having done wrong. Unfortunately, I can’t go back and make the changes I would like to, but I can go forward knowing it’s okay to seek help and talk about how you are feeling and I say “I am a person!” I am not a case number, or a file, or a basket case. Others see me as i present myself to them and I am trying to be the best version of me I can. Am I perfect… no, but that’s okay too. It’s all part of being a person.