Depression
Depression and generalized anxiety. I remember the first time I licensed therapist said those words to me. It wasn't a new thought to me, but it definitely was a strange feeling realizing that it wasn't in my head anymore. That this was a real thing that I had in fact been struggling with for years. I wasn't an overly emotional person. I wasn't a worry wart. It was verified that I suffered from a mental disorder, and hopefully, this could be the turning point to get me on the right road.
That was very hopeful of me and for the next four years I would struggle to make appointments, keep appointments regularly, try medication, throw away my meds, etc etc. I wanted a quick easy fix to my sadness and nervousness. I thought I could just "toughen up" even though there was proof that wasn't the case with me.
I have always been looking for answers. Answers on why I feel the way I do. Answers to how to solve it. ANSWERS. Answers would give me hope. But not getting them also made things worse. I wanted to know what was wrong with me.
When I was little - about five or six - I fell out of my bunk bed while I was sleeping and cracked my head on a wood chair that was next to the bed. I don't remember the incident at all. All that I have for a memory is when I woke up the next morning. I was confused. My head hurt. Why was I in my parents' bed? I went to sit up and immediately started screaming and crying. There was this white hot pain from the base of my neck shooting down in my tailbone through my spine. I collapsed back onto the bed as mom rushed in, concern evident in her eyes. "I knew we should have taken her to the hospital!" I heard her scream whisper to my dad.
So why bring this up? Well. It was never brought to my attention that a TBI (traumatic brain injury) at a young age could mess with the chemicals in your brain leading to depression and anxiety as you grow up. I was just sitting at work one day when this memory came to me and then my depression immediately coming to the front of my thoughts afterwards. I typed it in hesitantly to see if any studies had been done...There was. And the results were very surprising. This is a thing. An actual THING. Where children (especially in high contact sports) suffered a hit to the brain and developed emotional and mental problems afterwards.
But did I? I have what I call my "first realization" that something was wrong. I was 13 years old, and I woke up feeling empty, worthless and a failure. I was a shell putting on a happy face, and I would do this for the next decade - surprising many loved ones as I shared my diagnosis. But was I having these problems before?
YES. But I always thought, and I was always told that it was a part of growing up. These feelings of disappointment, of not being good enough. "You're such a perfectionist!" YEAH. Because failure was too much for me to handle.
That was very hopeful of me and for the next four years I would struggle to make appointments, keep appointments regularly, try medication, throw away my meds, etc etc. I wanted a quick easy fix to my sadness and nervousness. I thought I could just "toughen up" even though there was proof that wasn't the case with me.
I have always been looking for answers. Answers on why I feel the way I do. Answers to how to solve it. ANSWERS. Answers would give me hope. But not getting them also made things worse. I wanted to know what was wrong with me.
* * * *
When I was little - about five or six - I fell out of my bunk bed while I was sleeping and cracked my head on a wood chair that was next to the bed. I don't remember the incident at all. All that I have for a memory is when I woke up the next morning. I was confused. My head hurt. Why was I in my parents' bed? I went to sit up and immediately started screaming and crying. There was this white hot pain from the base of my neck shooting down in my tailbone through my spine. I collapsed back onto the bed as mom rushed in, concern evident in her eyes. "I knew we should have taken her to the hospital!" I heard her scream whisper to my dad.
So why bring this up? Well. It was never brought to my attention that a TBI (traumatic brain injury) at a young age could mess with the chemicals in your brain leading to depression and anxiety as you grow up. I was just sitting at work one day when this memory came to me and then my depression immediately coming to the front of my thoughts afterwards. I typed it in hesitantly to see if any studies had been done...There was. And the results were very surprising. This is a thing. An actual THING. Where children (especially in high contact sports) suffered a hit to the brain and developed emotional and mental problems afterwards.
But did I? I have what I call my "first realization" that something was wrong. I was 13 years old, and I woke up feeling empty, worthless and a failure. I was a shell putting on a happy face, and I would do this for the next decade - surprising many loved ones as I shared my diagnosis. But was I having these problems before?
YES. But I always thought, and I was always told that it was a part of growing up. These feelings of disappointment, of not being good enough. "You're such a perfectionist!" YEAH. Because failure was too much for me to handle.
* * * *
At the end of the day, I know there is no way to test for the origin of one's depression. Could it be hereditary? Seems like it. Could it have resulted from a freak accident? Potentially. Could it have been shaped from a mildly negative childhood? Maybe. I would say I have felt maniac before about trying to figure out the why to everything. It must all have a reason, right? I have also tried to distract myself from my feelings. If I distract it doesn't exist, correct?
For the next two-ish months I am going to be living alone for the first time in a year and a half, and I know I'm going to struggle. I have a game plan to help me acknowledge my feelings while also doing things to help brighten my day. My biggest fear is that the loneliness will still manage to triumph and the things I have planned to help get me through become unsuccessful. I decided that it would be a good idea to write (thanks to the boyfriend) since I used to do it constantly when I was growing up and dealing with this by myself and not understanding what was going on.
So here we are. Sharing time.
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