Week nine; speak up.

Finally it happened. A session that I didn’t really feel that much into it. Don’t mistake that statement though. Going to my therapy session’s really really do help me. However I don’t come prepared most of the time, and I’ll explain.

During the week I think of many things. Don’t we all? And most of the time, I try and write them all down. So I can mention is while in therapy. It’s usually a mood I find myself in. And I want to understand it more and why I came to be in that state. I don’t understand more then half o my feelings because I’ve been anxious my whole life. I’m “extra” sensitive and take things personally. Because that’s all I knew. I took it as harsh criticism. I took it negativity. However I took the positive too, and I took in joy and happiness. I just.. I couldn’t tell you if I was nervous because I always felt it. I couldn’t tell you when I was lost or confused because I always felt it. I couldn’t tell you how I was feeling because I didn’t know how to describe it. I just couldn’t.. say anything. So now, I’m taking advantage of it. I want to know it all. I want to open up and finally be able to look at myself and say “You are depressed.” And learn that outlook so I can maybe help others one day. But then suddenly.. when I sit down and he’s asking me how I am it’s usually the same reply. “I’m good!” And then we get into the week. That’s why I’m so keen to my bullet journal. Because it’s like a diary but better and I love that. I can look back and be like “well on this day..” but that is all fantasy. I don’t do that, and it doesn’t happen. He will spin right into things as soon as I give him the thread. And at the time it doesn’t bother me. It’s not until I’m walking out the door and I’m saying “I love coming here” that I realize that what I really wanted to talk about didn’t happen. And that sucks to say.

Sitting there listening to him talk and talk and tell me the same things over and over and over again.. not only makes it boring but this time I wanted to just walk out. I wanted to say “thank you very much” and just walk right now. I was so annoyed and wanted to show that annoyance. In therapy you shouldn’t feel restricted. Normally I don’t.. or at least I try not to feel that way. I need to talk about what I want to talk about. And I can’t seem to get there. So it makes it intimidating. And then here I am, feeling like I do. I’ve said it out loud so many times however I can’t seem to really take action to it. I don’t want to keep going here. However I feel like I’ll be a huge let down because we’ve been together for the last nine weeks! For the last 2 months and 1 week we’ve been together. The receptionist is a blessing and I truly adore her. She makes me so happy and she remembers my name and I don’t even care if it’s because she knows it by appointment time. I like that. I also noticed when I come by here, I’m more in tune with how I want to fidget with everything. My hands are usually number one because I will clench them or just try and keep them busy with one another. And then I’ll begin tapping my foot until it gets tired and that’s when I notice I was doing it. Stupid annoying. I never had that issue before- with my hands anyways. I do recall my foot tapping at certain times but when I think back, it was more as a comfort thing. Like, when I took tests or when I’m reading. OH! When I’m concentrated! It always starting spinning on it’s own. Never when I was anxious. My body had a different way of showing that. So in this situation it’s a real mystery to me.

Moving on to what really happen in the session though. As I mentioned before, it was just a repeat session. Where he just said the same things as last time. I need to work out more, I need to fix my sleeping schedule and blah blah blah. Like I get that. I say I’m trying and I’m also begging for help. I didn’t know it was so difficult to ask for a different solution. I didn’t know it was so hard.. for me to ask for something else. Start with walking around the block, and try going to sleep around 11am. That is some exercise for you AND that’s 8 hours of sleep! Oh don’t forget to wake up early too. It’s just.. it’s pissing me off just writing this all out. Maybe I mentioned something like this before. I just… need a different therapist. He works with more of a family scene, he doesn’t specialize with this specifically. Don’t get me wrong, like I said before. He’s really helped me, but at the same time, I feel like it’s not enough. I wish I got honesty in the beginning.

To really close our session, he had asked me to make up a name. Something that I dislike, like a villain or something. He says “I do this with children, and I think this could help you as well. Think of like a Disney villain. Think of your bad thoughts and ugly feelings as whatever it is you pick. ” I loved this idea, because when I want to get in a mood where I talk down to myself.. that’s honestly not me. It’s it. And thinking about it that way really helps. Last month, when I started this blog I had said that my “mental illness owns me” and it did. That’s why I said it. However thinking back on it now, when I told my therapist I didn’t get those words that I wanted to hear. Now I’m not going to crucify him because of THAT, and I won’t to it to him in general. However.. now my mental illness doesn’t control me. My anxiety is in the back set, while depression rides shot gun. And he can’t ride in the back with anxiety because I need him in the front seat to give me real directions. You see? I don’t know. I’m babbling now.

In the end, this session was only 10% helpful and I went in thinking this would be the same type of session(s) that I had on the usual. Nope.

My homework was too: come up with a name for it. Try to exercise more, and to sleep better.

Here is a 4min vlog I did on that day as well.

 

I’ll have more follow up posts from here on out as well. Maybe structure these blog posts in general as well. I don’t know if this is helpful in anyway to anyone but to me. So if it does, please let me know!

Mental illness feels like; take that step towards change.

I slept for 12 hours last night. Which is something to say considering I wasn’t sleeping that long (or well) the previous days. I have a slight headache (probably left over from last nights headache) and I feel like.. I usually do. That feeling of unmotivated and hopelessness. Lost even! I feel so lost. You know those games where it takes you roughly 3 hours of game play before you get a map? That’s how I feel but it’s taken me 23 years to get a map. Shoot, I’m still looking for that map because clearly I went the wrong way.

Let me back it up a bit to last nights evening because that honestly all I can really think about it. My father purchased seasonal football tickets for this years, ya know, football season. He can take up to 4 people with at a time. Now I don’t know too much about football so bare with me. Last night was the last “game”, or preseason game. Not too much hype but it was still fun none the less. In a few weeks, that is when the season really starts. I was told the first game of the season is the Cardinals vs Cowboys. Really expensive tickets I might add. I too should mention I’m not that big of a football fan but having just that little bit of pride is so positively overwhelming.

So the whole ride there was quiet, as was the ride back. However when we got there I felt rather peaceful. I never had social anxiety, meaning I never felt terrified or anxious in a crowd. I never felt anxious to speak in front of an audience, and I never felt anxious speaking to strangers or anything like that. Oh! fun note I forgot to mention, because we are season pass members we have special parking. Which requires us to take a bus to the stadium. Now THAT was fun! I felt so much nostalgia sitting in that school bus seat. I was so close to daydreaming honestly. The point of that is though, I was in that long bus with complete strangers and didn’t even think twice. Now I did want to compliment a young girl, but I didn’t have the courage too. In all honesty I thought she was assuming I was looking at her cross. Her hat was so cute, and she looked VERY attractive with it! That’s my anxiety now. Anyways, moving back to topic.

As we make our way through security we come across the Cardinals drum band? I know there is a term for it. They were marching and playing around outside with their beats and it was VERY intoxicating. Probably because I haven’t been in a scenario like that since high school. And they were smiling and having such a great time. I couldn’t help but soak that in myself. I’ve always been that person honestly. I try to fit in to most situations if I can. That’s my anxiety. As they come to an end we make our way inside to our seats I found myself grounded. I was ready to be consumed by overwhelming shouts and thrills and god knows what else. Bless be my mother, she’s always been a talker to us, so she just makes small talk with anything that comes to mind. At the same time I think she does that more now just to keep us distracted. Or from what I like to believe, she talks to keep me busy. Since I came out to her about my anxiety she’s been more aware of me and my feelings. I’m an open book, so you can see everything on my face. I’m also a sensitive person and I cry when I can’t form words or if I feel passionate about something. Anyways, I believe she was just helping not only herself but I as well. We were an hour early, so trust me when I say she talked the whole time.

The more she spoke though, the more I found myself coming in and out. Like, everything would come into focus and then leave. Like.. god I don’t know how to explain it. I had this issue for a few weeks and I wrote about it when it hit me hard during a therapist visit. Where my eyes would glaze over and everything in front of me would just get blurry and melt together. This time I wasn’t looking at a white wall but instead a huge crowd in the distance and it just blended together. The bright green field and all the people turned to dots, thankfully dark dots because I can’t stand the white. Better yet, have you ever melted crayons? I did when I was younger. I wanted to make wax of it and use it as a stamp mold. (Like the cool letters they did back in the 1600s and they would seal the envelope with their seal. That’s what i was trying to do) I let it sit in the sun though, and slowly but surely it melted whatever it could. Just the tip and the butt of the crayon remained. That’s pretty much what I was looking at when I was sitting in my seat looking at the vast crowd of hundreds of people. They were blurry, but also a stick. Thinking about it now it’s really annoying. Anyways, my eyes just glazed over and I didn’t do anything to bring me back. I just found myself wherever my mind wanted me to be.

I should have stated in the beginning that I didn’t want to go to this game. I wasn’t forced to go by anyone either. I just told myself I needed to go because if I didn’t, I didn’t want to look like a loser sitting at home again. So I forced and pressured myself to get up and go. I had plans to study and kind of work out some plans and some choices I’m having trouble facing. However, I didn’t want to be a loser so I went.

As the opening of the game is starting I found myself in the moment again. Standing up and shouting and clapping like mad, I went with the flow. I enjoyed myself! Man it was so much fun. I don’t have the lungs like I did six years ago and I KNOW I have a very high pitch scream so I learned quickly to limit myself. Now the opening is over and the game starts. There is four 15 minute quarters. After the first two quarters there is a half time for another 15 minutes. You get the picture. The first two quarters I was engrossed in. I was jumping and clapping and shouting and again, enjoying myself. I felt like my old self again.

Fast forward to after half time now. We have food I’m smiling at strangers and the game is winding down and near boring now. We’re ready to go home and as soon as I heard that my mind wondered. She started to think about all the things I wanted to do that day instead of going to the game. She screamed at me, and wondered why I didn’t write down any of my ideas or questions for future posts. I felt guilty, and I can see that now writing this out. I was guilty for enjoying myself with my family that I desperately want. I started to think about my future and how I want to go back to school. How I can get a career in something so small but feel so significant in. I worried about a source of income right now. How can I pay for my medical bills when I have no money? Who can I ask to help me pay for this? I thought about how I’m trying so hard to make myself happy with the small things, that I can’t even make myself happy with the big things. I want to be stuck in this situation instead of trying to move forward. How STUPID is that?

I want to wallow in this moment of me just sitting on social medias trying to get people to read and watch my videos. I want to try and make a living do this instead. But at the same time I don’t want too. I’m not stable enough, I need a career and I want something more meaningful. Which I’ve accepted! I’m pushing myself so very slowly to get back on the track I was on just 7 months ago. I’m stuck in this cycle where I want to start over and move on, but I don’t want to do that because I want to face my fears. I want to face everything that I’ve always ran away from. I want to feel like I’m the one in power. Yet, I don’t. I’m still cowering and it’s painful AND annoying. I’m so desperate for anyone to help me it’s so crippling. I don’t even know how to ask for help. I’m just stuck. Stuck in this tide of dense unclear waves and it’s dauntingly frightening. And this is all I thought about as I sat in that tiny uncomfortable stadium chair. How much of a pathetic loser am I really?

As our night came to an end, I came home in a grateful mood that I was not only invited but that I was cared for by my parents. However I wanted these thoughts to stop, so I took some happy pills (prescribed and non addictive) and that’s why I slept for 12 hours. The thoughts stopped and I felt well enough to come back to the world. I feel empty now though, and still unwilling to help myself and it’s stressful. I just want to take that healthy step back into a normal functioning life. Where I have natural sleep deprivation because I had school and work that Monday. I had an essay that I procrastinated because I was too busy reading a book. Where I have no energy in me and I’m like an endless tank full of coffee. Yet I’m taking steps back and I’m TRIPPING over myself as I do! I can’t wait to leap again.

5 tips for productivity when you’re depressed!

The other day, it just hit me. There are so many different “types” of self care and I don’t think that is noticed. We all feel differently throughout the day. So why not care for yourself in those feelings? It’s just the same as when you’re hungry you eat! So if you’re sad, drink water! Simple right?

As I’m making a list for future youtube videos, again, it was like I was slapped in the face. I thought “Whoa, I’m SO unfocused but I have the energy to do things!!! How can I help myself?!” And I came up with THESE 5 tips that I’ve always been doing but never singled out!

As I say in the beginning. When you’re depressed.. you typically don’t have the energy to do anything. (If you’re like me anyways) Before I always felt unfocused, empty and just hollow. And I don’t ever want to feel that way again. So I’m changing the game here. Start small and just dribble that ball until the air runs out! These are my 5 tips on productivity when you’re depressed!

  1. Start a list.
  2. Take breaks
  3. Meditate.
  4. Stay hydrated
  5. Yoga/Stretching.

Watch the video to see my elaborations on to why you should do those 5 things!!

What have you done to get yourself moving when you’re depressed?? I was so crippled before so seeing it now I’m like “HALT! YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!”

Week eight; Don’t be taken advantage of.

Here we go, for what I hope is to be the last time I bring up my job and how I’m on medical leave from it. Quite frankly I’m sick of talking about it. And I’m sick of how it consumed every little piece of my life that week. Telling myself I was a shitty person for not going to work, and how I felt so weak and vulnerable was the worst case of negative self talk I’ve ever done to myself. And I was reminded how I’m not a work horse, and I shouldn’t be treated that way.

That overwhelming pressure sat in my chest the whole car ride to the office. The kind of pressure that makes you have short breaths and you feel like your body might do something you tell it not to do. Although at the same time, your head is clear and empty. Ready for anything. And as we start the session, he’s excited once again to hear how work has been going for me. “I haven’t been going.” I belched. It was as though my belch had echoed through the sound proof room, through the thick sound proof, steal-lookin-door-from-the-movies type door and into the receptionist desk and into the waiting room. Saying that made me feel ashamed. Which is what I learned that session. Thankfully I can say I don’t feel that way anymore. But when he said “ashamed” I knew that was it. That is exactly how I was feeling, and I didn’t know it.

As I’m sitting there twisting my hands into one another to cause pressure to help ease my emotional pain I just poured myself out. Pouring and pouring until he said stop. I tell the happy house that I didn’t want to go back to that (work) place and that I wanted to quit. Because that’s all I knew how to do when something “terrible” happened. Just quit and move on to people that don’t know me. It took what felt like 20 years to figure out that I didn’t want to quit- “just cause I truly didn’t want to work there”. It was because I was abused and I didn’t know how to say it. So before we go forward, I really, really, REALLY with all my might; stress how I understand that a ton of people if not the whole world pushes through work and slaves away. I get that people work jobs that pay little to nothing and we all feel like shit for it. And this is why I felt ashamed. I wasn’t able to push through and not whine about it. I wanted to be noticed for my hard work. I didn’t want to be reminded of why I needed a break, and I didn’t want to keep working here and just being flat out ignored. My mother says “that’s just the world” and you know what? I don’t care. I don’t want to be treated this way. No one does. And I believe that!! So why say that to me????  Why push me farther into that corner I’m desperately trying to inch out of? Even now, writing this out I feel like my therapist is just staring at me. Judging me because someone else out there “has it worse”.  Just.. I get it.

I can do the work. I can stay over an hour after my shift and do all sorts of jobs. So that I  can come to work the next day and not be stressed (from the incomplete jobs). But when I ask for help, I get shut down. But why?? Oh, I know! It’s because I should be able to do it all! I let them believe I was capable of doing it all without complaining. For a whole year, I let them believe that. Now that I am doing just that, speaking out, they turn the other way and use it against me. Quite frankly, I cared. I cared about how I was treated and received the cold shoulder. However I don’t anymore. They don’t matter. My feelings matter. My health matters, and I am a person. Not some fucking show horse, or some lion you whip to do tricks. I’m not someone that, on the snap of the finger I’ll jump into action. I’m not. Though, I let them believe just that. Because I thought that’s what I had to do. So when he painted that picture for me.. I just felt so much relief. If you went to work 8-10 hours a day with no breaks, or lunch breaks for that matter, then how would you feel? How would you feel when the moment you DO step away to go to the bathroom or get some water AT LEAST! They are calling you back instantly. You too would start to believe “whats the point”. That is stressful. And that stressfulness lead me into this cyclone that I knew I wasn’t going to be released from. However I kept going. Because I thought that’s what I had to do. I had to push through it because I wasn’t at a “breaking point” and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I was lying to myself. That is shameful.

This is the picture he had painted for me. “If a machine is designed to make 2 items every 8 hours, and it takes another 8 hours to recharge you let it do it’s job. However, if you need it to produce more, you push it to it’s limits. Making it do 8 in 8 hours, but it doubles the recharge time as well. So down time is 16 hours. Doubling it’s output, doubles it’s recovery time. Until finally that machine can’t do it anymore and it dies.” It’s had enough and it can’t work at that volume anymore.” What an eye opener that was. That’s exactly how I felt. I’m a person, and I like to enjoy things. You can stand up for yourself, and you can be a PERSON in the work force. That’s not hard!!! Although I MADE it hard. I made it so difficult on myself, and I see that. But the fact remains. I’m not a working machine.

I don’t want to return back to work because I will continue to be mistreated and I don’t want that. Which is why I’ve decided to go back to part time, hopefully with some terms and if not- then oh WELL! I can find something else and that doesn’t bother me one bit. As the happy house spoke, it was like they were some respected local painter. With each word it was like a brush stroke. A picture book produced just for me. So I continued to pour once again. I mentioned that I felt weak because I wasn’t able to “work”. Whipping out that picture book, he drew a new picture. “You’re not weak because you don’t want to be abused.” A push over. Exactly. I don’t want to be a push over. As I’m about to pour once again, I do just that. I’m almost sobbing, and before I reach that point he starts to breath, which is my signal to breath too. And as I’m breathing it hits me. “I’m weak because others can do it, and I can’t.” I breath in deeper to make my lungs burn. He flips back to that fresh page and makes me look at it again. “You’re not weak because you don’t want to be abused.” I nod in agreement.

I’m empty to the point I’m bone dry. And as we’re coming to an end he tells me to focus on good habits. Get into yoga, find a time and place at (work) to meditate. Find out what works best for ME to get through the work day now. Don’t go back to old habits. Create new ones. Which is so much more easier said then done. However I heard him. I understood what he was asking of me. Executing the new habits- shoot- FINDING new habits itself! Is the hard part. Just have to try it before knocking it!

I am human. I like to enjoy things. I know my worth. I like breaks. And I shouldn’t be pressured. Now THAT feels great to say.

How taking a medical leave helped me with my recovery. (Part one)

I title this as part one, because I am currently on a part two. Best part is out of the way now, so lets get started!

Back in June I had a very difficult time. I was constantly stuck in my head and I was over analyzing everything. Which is something I do all the time. I’m constantly overthinking, while trying to stay positive at the same time. It’s hard trying to multitask like that, very taxing on the mind and body. For as long as I can remember, I’ve actually always thought this way. Which in conclusion made me exhausted and I didn’t even think twice about that. I guess I should set the mood a bit more, and rewind to how it all started.

(You can watch/listen to my life story here about growing up with anxiety, IF NOT CONTINUE READING! )

 

At the beginning of this year, I felt good. I was working two jobs, going to school and felt normal. I felt like I was fitting in with everyone around me whom constantly worked. I didn’t have a social life, but I didn’t care. I was working for my future and for money and that’s really all I cared about. In mid February I found myself bed ridden with some illness I like to think was pneumonia. No point in me guessing though. I didn’t see a doctor and I was pushing myself to get to work. I was confused, throwing up and all around just not there. I was so disoriented that when I was driving to my 7am morning first at my second job I didn’t even know I was driving. And I suddenly felt unsafe. I’m already late by 10 minutes, and my managers are wondering where I am. Needless to say, I was only employed for four weeks. I was out sick (in bed) for two weeks. I don’t remember much aside  from when I thought I “felt better” I went to work. I was wearing three layers of clothing with a jacket on top. My eyes were droopy and I was forced to breath through my mouth. No one wanted to interact with me. Just that month alone changed me.

From the disappointment of quitting my second job, I was once again pressuring myself to find secondary income. Application after application I finally put the pen down, and accepted that right now at this time I wasn’t going to be able to fulfill that mental pressure. Letting that go, I was able to just focus on my primary job and just continue on. In doing so, I found myself rewarded with a promotion in March. With excitement and so much enthusiasm I took the reins and speed off. My chariot was on fire for months. I was able to see a positive future and I felt my confidence return. I ran lap after lap after lap as I felt myself achieving personal and work goals. My happiness in those few months was so indescribable. However, it soon came to an end.

My mother was diagnosed with a foreign cancer. We were unable to get answers for two months. Which, surprise! The end of May beginning of June my mother took a medical leave to find out what was wrong, and to rest. Her doctors did not joke around and told my mother to rest up which is why I say it again. This was new to her, rest. In the last 12 years of her working near 350 days out of the year, she finally had time to herself. Granted though, not in a way I think she anticipated it to be; however time none the less. And she loved it oh so much. I loved seeing her so happy. Ever though she was in constant pain she was still grateful and happy.  By the second week of June, I felt the same feelings I typically find myself facing a dozen times out of the year. This haunting pressure from my anxiety. At the time, I wasn’t able to make anything out. The only thing I could see was “I’ve had enough of trying to help myself. I need to see someone”. So I called my new PCP and told her that I needed whatever help I was able to get for my anxiety. I didn’t know what to expect. I put off seeking treatment for so long.. so when I found myself in her office just 3 days later I couldn’t help but sob the whole time. My anxiety flared up so hard I thought I was going to just stop breathing. But in that moment.. I was also grateful. Everyone knew why I was there, and I thought they would treat me differently. They didn’t. In all honestly they probably didn’t even think twice about it like I would have. The staffs kindness eroded into me. I felt safe.

That day I walked out with two different types of medication. I was put on a plan with my PCP and I was thrilled to finally start in the right direction. I took the medication that evening and went to sleep fulfilled. Those few weeks leading up to the doctors visit, I was tanking at work. I wasn’t able to focus, and I wasn’t able to do my job. I was drowning and I didn’t know how to signal the life guard. The work place grew stressful and I just wasn’t able to cope. So on day two of my new medication I snapped. I was told by a higher up that I needed to do better. And in that frazzled state, I lost it. I left early that day sobbing. And I didn’t return back to work for weeks. However that day, that day in particular struck me. It was the 13th of June, the last day that I physically showed up to work. That Friday, June 16th I had called my doctor and told her what happen. She granted me a medical note and that was the day I called for my medical leave. So with my back story said (the long part) lets get into how this medical leave helped me. Because it was the worse and best time of my life.

__________________________________

The first week on my medication I honest to God felt like they were really working. They typically take about a month or so for my body to really take them in. I couldn’t tell you what it was, just that it was working. My racing thoughts subsided, I didn’t feel so triggered and most importantly I didn’t feel so sensitive. This was a huge deal for me. I was still terrified of the stigma around mental health, and I say that because I had to tell my family why I stopped going to work and why I wanted to be around them so much. I had some opinions, however I didn’t take it in a bad way. They were learning as much as I was. I might have known more, but this was my time. I had to speak up and teach.

I scheduled visits with my doctor when I needed too. Which was.. just about every (rest) week of June. I went through some things I’m honest to Dante I don’t want to bring back up. But I’m going to anyways, so buckle up. The reason why I took my medical leave was because my meditation took me down the roads of horror. And not like the ones you see at the movies. Week one was a great week. Thought I was cured and would need to be on medication the rest of my life. And I was SO ok with that. (I still am by the way) However week two.. not so much. I started to feel lonely. I was shutting down and I knew I was. I knew the feelings and the warning signs. So I tried desperately to reach out to whomever I could to help distract myself. Although no matter what I did, I was left feeling alone.       ( You can read about how I was feeling in that specific time here ) And then came the insomnia. I’ve never experienced insomnia like this ever in my life. Even in high school when I “thought” I had insomnia, HA! I’m laughing at myself. Have you ever seen ‘Fight Club’? The one with Brad Pitt and Edward Norton? (One of my favorite movies and books btw) In the beginning, Tyler (Edward Norton) is seeing his doctor about how he can’t sleep. He’s shown on the couch flipping through the channels and he’s talking about how he buys things and blah blah. But in that frame of him laying on his couch, mouth wide open and dark purple and black circles under his eyes? That was me. I was like that for so long that it felt like YEARS. I don’t know how else to describe how long I felt that way. It was terrible. My sleep schedule was so out of order and all over the place, that I was grateful for ANY type of slumber. A NAP even! I can’t imagine trying to go to work with literally no sleep. I was so moody and just all over the place. Literally. Which caused me to go back to the doctor and ask for some sort of treatment to sleep. I was given non addictive sleep medication, which in all honesty didn’t work. But that’s ok. I accepted it as is. Sadly enough I’m still trying to get back into a health sleep routine and schedule. Happy ENOUGH to say that I don’t have insomnia anymore.

Week three I don’t remember, and in all honestly I don’t remember much until week 5. A whole month later I look back (thankful of my blog posts) and I can see I was in a terrible place of depression. My anxiety made me overthink, and I constantly had racing thoughts and tiny voices and so many other things bothering me. But depression, oh boy. Depression is a sibling I don’t want to have. See, she is soul sucking. She’s like the grim reaper from ‘Final Destination’. Where you are aware that you could die at any moment so you team up with whomever you can and ride it out. Hopefully you don’t die. I mean, just remove the “dying” part and replace it with “soul sucking”. I hope that paints a picture. I remember trying so hard to keep my soul. I was drawing, reading, watching tv, you know common distractions you don’t even think twice about. But in my case, I was pushing myself to do them so I didn’t find myself sleeping on the couch for days. Which I did. For three days I sat in my family loft with ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ playing on the tv and I just slept. I only woke up just to tell Netflix to fuck off, I’m still watching. It was my safe place. My happy place, and the only form of rest I was able to receive. ( You can read about my depressive episodes here; scroll all the way down.  )  OR READ THESE TOP POSTS –> [Empty but full. Honestly, how can I help myself.  Gear up like Dante.  The lost woods. ] are my most favorite posts I’ve done. (Terrible to say, but I’m proud. ❤ )

I forgot to mention, I also started therapy on week two. I wrote about those as well, which you can find (HERE). It’s not major however these visits where the only thing getting me out of the house. I didn’t leave for any other reason, and got very angry when I was asked to go “out”. I just didn’t want too. I wanted to curl up and just sit in the corner. And that is healthy to say. I accept it now, being in that dungeon called my brain. I’ve adapted and actually built off that dungeon. Anyways, After week 5 I noticed myself getting better. I was sleeping and my return to work date was creeping up on me. The week prior I was back into my routine. I slept at night and woke up early. I found myself productive and just so eager to return back to work. I felt as though I was losing my mind just sitting at home. (Funny to say it now, but I rushed back tooooo quickly. Ended up tripping over myself. TWICE) I wasn’t able to get back on the work schedule until (Week Eight). Which leads us to part two of this story. -claps hands-

In conclusion, as you can see. I wasn’t fit to honestly battle with work and my body AND my mind. The condition I was in… made me into some sort of demon. (Again, I’m proud I went through it. I don’t ever want to again, but if I DO! I’ll know what to do next time)
I was in a fight or flight mode, but dead at the same time. I don’t want to go through that while going to work. Nope. Nu huh. SO! That concludes part one.

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THIS POST IS IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM TO SCARE YOU INTO THINKING MEDICATION IS TERRIBLE AND NOT HELPFUL!

PLEASE CONSULT YOUR DOCTOR BEFORE STARTING OR ENDING YOUR MEDICATION TREATMENT!

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Finding the right medication is a LONG HAUL! PLEASE DON’T BE DISCOURAGED IF THE FIRST ONE DOESN’T WORK! Have a healthy conversation with your therapist or doctor about changing your prescription. MAKE SURE YOU ARE HEARD! Let them know ALL of your symptoms and why you feel like you want to try something else. DON’T BE ALARMED OR SCARED WHEN TOLD THE SIDE EFFECTS! Most are NOT permanent. I went through this in only 6 weeks, and I don’t have these side effects anymore. SO PLEASE ASK QUESTIONS! DO RESEARCH IF YOU WANT AS WELL! GET ALL THE INFORMATION AND BE KNOWLEDGEABLE!

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If you would like to know MORE or have ANY questions that I could answer PLEASE leave a comment or contact me on any social medias. Your mental health matters! Keep going!

 

Mental illness feels like; Listen to your own advice.

I’m suddenly very unfocused. I’ve been wanting a nap for the last four hours now, however I’ve been pushing myself to get stuff done. I don’t want to get all pressured for tomorrow. Since it’s Saturday I know I’ll be asked to help out in some chores. And I won’t want to do them, because I won’t have the energy to do it. Like I always am.

Maybe I should nap here soon. If I can tell others to rest, I should be able to follow my same advice. Stupid huh? I just can’t help it. I don’t see it at all. I guess this would be a topic I would want to work with my therapist on. Must write that down before I forget. Done. Aside from a nap, I’m also creativity stunted. Like, I see my list. I see how much I actually haven’t done, so I’m just like “SHRUG”. I’m restless in my computer chair. My back in aching for the couch. Wow HOW FUNNY AM I?! I JUST did a video on this! I’m so laughing at myself now. Ok Faith, say it with me. “I’m tired and ready to sleep. Because I’m ready to sleep I’m not ready to be productive.” There we go.

Saying that helps a bit. I’m not in that ugly depressive state where I physically and mentally can’t do anything. I’m just not. I’m in a good mood. And that’s great to say. I’m ready to do things. However I’m also ready to just get some rest and start fresh. However just saying THAT, I don’t believe it. If I was going to tell someone else that, I would! I would literally push someone into that. “Take a nap and rest.” Yet here I am. Not believing my own words to myself. What is that? Literally, what is that? Have you ever felt that way? Why do we feel that way? I want to talk to a professional now, ugh. That’s stressful. I should start titling these as “Dear Diary” because I feel like this is exactly what this is. I’m just writing to write. Y’all know me. (sad face)

Well, lets write then. My goal was to do just that and hopefully find some sort of motivation to get things done. I’m working on some stickers and that’s really exciting for me. I like the creative part of it. I’m trying to be as original as I can be! (Like, I drew it all!!) And I’m also trying to be myself. I want these stickers to mean something, and they do to me. I bet that sounds dumb. How can something so tiny mean that much? I don’t know how to answer that honestly. Items make me happy. (shrugs) And as I’ve said before I’m making printables too. These are things that mean a ton to me also because I made them, and I just.. love them. I wish they do as much as I make them out to be. And I know they don’t, but saying that should be healthy. Right? Oh well.

And as I said in my last blog post, I’ve been working on youtube videos. Today was a due date for one, however I didn’t do it. I have a nice list of videos to do as well, and I don’t have an excuse for it. But I’m gunna say one anyways. I didn’t do it because I wanted to make another video for my Self Care series and nothing came to mind. I know I shouldn’t pressure myself because I’ve posted one if not TWO videos a day this week. A ton of videos to watch. Buuut I feel terrible about it. Bleh.

I’ve been needing to make new graphic (art???) for some of my social media’s and I need some others to help promote some of things I’m doing. That’s a good amount of work and I love it!! BUT I’M TIRED!!! Constant chronic FATIGUE is just so exhausting and.. I don’t even know how to explain it. I loath it. Although.. it’s working. Me just writing this out. It’s making me understand that maybe I should call it quits for now and take a break. I took a break yesterday, and I have that pressure on me for today. Where I need to make up for what I did yesterday. But… that’s ok. Take as long as a break as you need!! I’ve said it before. So why am I NOT understanding that?! Why am I not listening to myself?? I know there is something wrong, ha. I’m laughing at myself now. How therapeutic is this. Alright! Hands off the keyboard. I’m going to go rest now. Good work team.

(here is the video i’m talking about in this post)

Whoa, hello happy high!

 

Just last week I was sitting around, wondering what I would be doing with my life. And it’s something I think about daily. Most times it’s a negative outcome, daydreaming about the future. Other times it’s positive. Where I can mentally see myself happily engrossed in whatever is I felt like “becoming”. A teacher, a technician, a history teacher, an artist with a studio full of empty blank canvases. You name it. Something I felt so passionate about in that moment. And here I am, in a new week and I don’t even.. I don’t even daydream about any of this stuff anymore. I feel confident in my future choices. And that’s great to say.

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I started writing this the day before yesterday. I didn’t want to discard it, because I still feel those good vibes and I wanted to keep that. I remember how I wanted to write so much about how.. this week felt good. How I accomplished so much on my to do list and how I was looking for jobs, and getting on social medias. I felt great. So I’ll leave that, and this here and continue on with how I feel today and so forth.

I know it’s been while since I wrote, I’ve been on youtube surprisingly. I love making videos, I did it all threw out high school. So it’s SUPER funny to see how I just stopped. I mean, I spoke about it a lot. On how I wanted to do videos again, but I was SOOOOO embarassed to film in front of my family. Stupid huh? I can do live in front of anyone else, but if it’s in person with my family. NOOOOPE. I’m just terrified of them making fun of me. Or how they’ll will laugh OR they will cry “I don’t want people to know who I ammmmm” and invade their privacy or something. I get that. Many people don’t like to be in front of a camera, even in this day of age. Where EVERYTHING we hold on too- HAS A CAMERA ON IT. Funny. However I get it. I get the mental process of it afterwards also. I’ve had many moments where I felt like what i just posted was stupid. With so MANY things on the internet, how do I get noticed? How do I get people to read my stuff. Was it pointless. I wasted my time. Yadda, yadda. And then suddenly after a few hours I’ll see how it wasn’t all for nothing. I still felt that good vibe when I wrote. That good vibe of when I was recording. And then I’ll be peaceful again. My anxiety would just finally chill out. B l i s s. Anyways, that’s what I’ve been doing. And I’ll post them here as well! If you haven’t already, subscribe! I have VLOGS that are just moments of me talking about things. Things that I wanted to write about! However, as I said before. I loved sitting and talking in front of the camera instead. So that’s why!! I’m working on a series that I want to use on both my blog and youtube channel. And that makes me excited to say! I try and reach out when I can, because I want to meet new people and make friends. It’s just difficult. I feel like everyone is just here for themselves and I’ve never been that way. Sad face.

Moving on! I’ve been doing well with my bullet journal. I’m trying to get active on Instagram with it. Tumblrs a hard platform in my opinion. And I don’t want to move back and forth between everything so quickly. I mean, just the other day I spent ALL DAY on twitter. Reading articles and I felt so run down after that. I liked getting all that information but honestly, not worth it again. I ended up taking a day for myself yesterday and I spent it all (aside an hour all together) off my phone. And it was nice. I talked about it in one of my vlogs about how over stimulation to our devices really affects our health, and mental health. And as soon as I read it- I was like “Wow. This is SO true!” That article in particular was about AD/HD in children. Which was caused by over stimulation from smart phones and iPad and so forth. Back on topic, I really think bullet journaling in general is a health way to get to know yourself and be creative. So I’m trying to work on that.

I’ve talked about it, but I don’t think I’ve done it on here. I’ve been thinking about seeing or asking for a referral to another therapist. This week was really… weird. And I’ll be writing about that today for week nine’s blog post. I’m grateful, and happy to say that I can see everything clearly now. Just every now and then I have issues. And I’m happy to admit that as well.

Let’s see.. well. I’ll be posting all my thoughts today on the blog. I’ll keep them annually though so I don’t over stuff the feed. I personally don’t like that. Too much content in one day is really hard to keep up with. And I always end up forgetting things. I have so many saved links too, so when I DO remember I can reference them. Eh. Anyways here is my update post!

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You can watch this vlog here! That sums up this whole post!