{Warning: this article could be triggering to some people as it talks about suicide, depression and anxiety. The intent behind this article is only to share my progress and offer my help}
Time has been flying by- the fact that it’s already November 2016 is crazy. Today in particular makes me think about the past more than others.
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Growing up, November 3rd was my parents’ anniversary. If they hadn’t divorced, today would be their 26th anniversary. Thinking of how long they could have been together makes me determined to not let disagreements with my boyfriend, Kevin, build up. With divorces in general, I feel as though they’re fueled by years of resentment due to miscommunication. I don’t want that to be the case in the relationship with the man I may possibly marry. Communication is key to a good relationship, and today reminds me to work hard through the rough patches. (My parents’ divorce is not the focus of this article, and was more complicated than what I described).
Today also marks a personal anniversary for me. Two years ago, today, I was admitted as a patient into a psychiatric hospital, Carrier Clinic. I’m sure this news will surprise a lot of people- it surprises me to remember sometimes too. A few years back, my depression completely took over my mind and, to be frank, fucked with my sense of reality. I missed out of truly enjoying my senior year, and my first job that following summer, because I was seeing life through a false lens. I’ve lost many friends due to my depression- not many people want to hang out with the pessimist. I dealt with suicidal thoughts and ideology as frequently as any other thought. I was so sick and so far gone from seeing actuality.
But this is not a pity party, but a celebration. I’ve come so far from cutting myself every day, to embracing my flaws. I’ve gone from not being able to get out of bed to having a (mostly) normal sleep schedule. From being too anxious in public that I could only look at the floor to now starting conversations with strangers all the time. Being so insecure I either didn’t laugh, or I laughed too forcefully, and now laughing my true laugh.
So many things have changed in these past two years. At the risk of sharing too much- I lost my virginity (at the ol’ age of 19), I lost a friendship I thought I’d have forever, I fell in love, I moved out of my hometown, and later moved in with my love. I’ve become more open, more comfortable with myself, and more in tune to why I feel the way I do. I have strengthened so many acquaintanceships by reaching out. I push myself, and amaze myself with what I’m capable of. I don’t want to cut myself (compared to always wanting to). My anxiety attacks rarely last over an hour- and that’s including the buildup.
Now, I’m not saying I am totally healed from my mental illnesses. I still get extremely anxious, I’m still insecure. I still deal with remnants of my depression.
But- I MADE IT.
I actually had a good anxiety the other night. I was in the car and it hit me- I made it. There’s that post of the girl talking about her husband reading a bedtime story in different voices to their daughter and she realized she made it past her hard times. And I’m not married or expecting, but I am in love with a great man who is also my best friend and we live in Pennsylvania. I’ve dreamt about my Prince Charming since I was old enough to understand what a prince was, and I’ve used so many birthday wishes pleading to have a guy like Kevin. He’s smart, handsome, silly, amazing and everything I have ever wanted, and this realization hitting me made me have (what I call) an anxiety attack about how well my life is going. To try to explain this to someone who doesn’t understand- I honestly probably can’t. For what felt like so long I was so far from where I wanted to be, and how I’m here and it’s overwhelming.
On the way to our hometown to visit family, we drove over a bridge (the Verrazano Bridge at exit 127 on the NJ parkway). A few years back, this was my favorite because it was the biggest one I had seen and figured it was the best candidate to jump off for a successful suicide. And now, this is my favorite bridge because of its size (and the fact that bridges baffle me on how they’re made), the view you see off the sides, and the fact that I DON’T want to jump off it. This bridge is a reminder of how far I’ve come.
Today, I get anxious. And most times, I use coping mechanisms I’ve learned to help it subside. And when it manifests itself into an attack, I’m learning how to recover faster. I try to find the positives in every situation I don’t like, which helps me see that not every is as bad as I think it is. I write many lists, which helps me keep track of stressors and due dates. And I ask a lot of questions- to make sure that I know what I’m doing. I talk about what worries me- and then I actually listen to the advice given to me.
I’m sorry if this article upsets anyone. People in my hometown grieve the loss of two amazing boys who gave up too soon. I was lucky enough to have known them, even though I wasn’t close with them. At the risk of sounding selfish, I’m also lucky to have seen their impact on the people around them. Seeing how many people grieved, even myself, spoke to me enough that I never seriously attempted to lose my life. I’ve also held with me, even on my darkest days, that my story could help someone. This motivation has gotten me to the point I am at today. Still, I do feel the heaviness of depression creep on me from time to time- the insecurity, anger, apathy, etc. But I’ve felt happiness I didn’t know possible, and I’ve learned so many lessons- with three of the biggest lessons below.
*This will actually pass: the stress, bad luck, negativity will pass eventually- I promise.
*Actually appreciate the little things: flowers, leaves, big trees, sunrises/ sunsets, funny posts online- try to appreciate it. Or at least notice it.
*Positive sings are all around: smiling at a stranger, a good song on the radio, what have you- SO many good things happen without recognition
The point of this is to tell you my story, my recovery, my success story. My realization of how far I’ve come is so bewildering to me that I just wanted it in words. And, to maybe help someone. When it comes to mental health, I’ve been through hell and back. I’ve cried because I woke up, and now I’m excited for what every day brings. For people who feel discouraged, lost, hopeless- or whatever- this is your sign to fight harder. Depression and anxiety is real, but it is not debilitating forever.
If this article helped you- share it. If it could help someone you know who is struggling- share it with them. I feel as though I am lucky enough to have been all the way down that hole and have made it back- and I feel as though it’s my purpose to help people get out of that hole.
