Sometimes I feel like the world is crumbling beneath me.
At any given moment, my mood can be ruined. There are people who have brought an immense amount of negativity into my life and if they are around, I get uncomfortable. I can’t help but be pushed back in time when my issues with them first appeared. When one thing makes me upset, my mind has to go ahead and recall everything that has ever made me upset. Thus, making it seem like I’m blowing things out of proportion. Just this morning, I viewed something on Snapchat that ruined my whole day. It’s really that easy. I then proceeded to angrily go on a rant in my text messages that eventually stopped getting a response.
I always feel very unimportant to anyone I know. I’m not sure why, but I’ve been dealing with it since high school. It’s kind of like I’m that one friend in the group who isn’t really in the group. When it comes to going places and getting together, I’m rarely thought of. I recently started to distance myself because of this, and of course, I’m the bad guy for it.
Now its “Lexi, you don’t fuck with us anymore” (as if they were really “fucking” with me to begin with.)
But I mean, no one seemed that worried before. I’m always made the antagonist once I react accordingly to other’s actions.
Since my last post, I have again been making the wrong judgement about the male variety. So much for not making the same mistakes right? But at least one good thing came out of it: The idea of entertaining any approach from a guy now makes me sick to my stomach. It honestly sucks that with every interaction with one, I become more and more convinced that for some reason I’m not good enough. Now of course, I know I am. And I know nothing is wrong with me. But this chemical imbalance says otherwise.
I remember my medication like it was yesterday.
I had been to a psychiatrist before, but she was so focused on the interaction of all of us in the household more than just me. Granted, that was a big part of my issue, especially when my dad first got remarried. Before going to a different one years later, I had nagged my dad about putting me on medication. Typical of black parents, his response was “You don’t need any medicine. Nothing is wrong with you.” The nagging continued however and I finally met with another psychiatrist. He felt like my issue partly laid in just being in my home environment which at the time was not so great following an event that was in a way, traumatizing for me. I was considering getting exonerated and moving out, which he also believed I should do. He honestly believed that my mental health would not be able to improve until I got out of my house.
This psychiatrist had regular conversations with me, we did an IQ test, and he finally had me do a very long questionnaire that would help him diagnose me. My favorite part was that he brought his dog to work with him. Once I did the questionnaire, it was determined that I have dysthymic disorder which is a persistent depression that is mild but long-term and anxiety. On my last day with him, because I had no intentions of continuing talk therapy and it was very straining on my parents’ pockets, one thing he said really stuck with me:
“You’re such a sweet kid, you don’t deserve to feel the way you do.”
It seems like nothing, but no one had ever made me feel like how I felt wasn’t my fault. I had spent so long being made out to be my own enemy. When I finally got medication after that, there was an amazing change. I was smiling more, I had more motivation, and I was just overall more happy. I for some reason, started to question it. I felt more in control of my brain but it was only because of the medicine. I started to think maybe I didn’t need it and I could handle it on my own. I didn’t want to be depending on a pill that made me think I was happy. So, I stopped. And for a long time I was okay most of the time. It was only when I got to college and bad things started happening that the depression came back at me full force.
Currently, I have no control over anything anymore. I cry a lot in my room and I’m not half the person I was the first few months of being in college. I feel like I’m 8 years old again scared to go to sleep at night because all of my fears and anything negative that crosses my mind has started to manifest itself in my dreams. The one time I was ever at peace anymore has become a war zone for all my demons.
Sometime 2 weeks ago, I decided to take control over this thing in my head that has had a hold on me for a decade or more.
I’m working on loving my own company more than anyone else’s because I need a break from disappointment. I’m getting over the urge of just really wanting a type of companionship. It seems like no issue, but it is for me. Although I don’t notice my own anxiety often, it really shows when it comes to going places alone. I used to not be able to go to the cafe and eat if I was alone. If I had no one to go with, I would have sleep for dinner. Now, I go to every meal with the intentions of eating alone. I hang out by myself and I go to the library religiously on my own. There are many things I’m working on getting good at. Another one of them being not comparing myself to other people. I have started to really love how I am and appreciate others’ abilities while also giving recognition to my own. I may not be like the next person in one aspect, but there is always something about me that is equally cool.
This journey I’m on was long overdue. I’ve been living my life thinking that it’s just something I have to deal with. It is going to take a while but I wake up everyday with the intentions of getting just a little better. I’m taking it one day at a time.