I was picturing writing this blogpost while driving this afternoon. I can't seem to fall asleep right now, but luckily the thinking juices are always turned on in my brain. I'm a deep thinker, which is a curse, but also good. Same with my brain, it's such a complex thing, and sometimes I hate it. Being a deep thinker, and having anxiety usually aren't the greatest mix.
I was doing really good with my anxiety this past year. Things were really good from May into early November. I burned out. Put too many things on myself without consulting Jesus. Thinking of God a lot, but not consistently spending time with him. Things were great, I hardly thought of my anxiety anymore. So I started doing things in my own strength and hit a wall pretty hard.
I went from doing really well with my anxiety with a day and night change of slowly falling into a hole. It came on fast but the process was slow. Slowly I became weaker and weaker, I didn't know I needed so much help until it was too late. I had already hit the wall, and recovering from that blow was now my only option.
It kept getting worse until I experienced one of the worst weeks of my life. A hole of sadness I had never experienced before. The constant thought in my head "When will this end, I can't deal with it much longer." My only option was to go through it, as hurting myself and suicide would never be an option for me. This week happened to coincide with Finals, and I still don't know how I made it to each of them in this condition.
By the end of the semester I started missing classes, slept a lot, and would have random bouts of sadness. Unexplainable sadness that came upon me and I'd just sob for no good reason. Randomly. During class. (During class I held it in as much as possible, and did more of a silent cry, so it wouldn't be noticeable). I would also cry on my drive to work, meeting up with clients with Autism. I don't think they ever noticed I had been crying. The parents or the kids. Sometimes I'd get to my room on campus and bust out into sobs. I began eating less, I no longer had an appetite. I made myself eat, though it was so much less than it should of been.
I'm really glad that when I hit the wall it was the end of the semester. If I would of hit the wall at anytime before then, I'd a probably dropped out of the semester. Parkside having such a long break, helped me take time to recover. Even though I thought whatever was going on would be an easy fix, it turns out that it wasn't so easy and I would spend most of the break recovering.
The first 2-3 weeks of break weren't so good either. It was better than my worst week at Parkside but can be explained in the word "helpless". That's what I was, and I hated it. So paralyzed with fear, I didn't move unless I had to, and even that was super hard. Even the simplest tasks were made challenging like walking to the bathroom. My bladder cried out. I couldn't do anything to take care of myself without a huge amount of stress. Just sitting on the couch, trying to occupy my mind with anything else. Once or twice a day crying, due to mostly the fact I couldn't take care of myself. Having to be coaxed into the car, having my food brought to me, and sleeping on the couch downstairs, as there was no way I could make it up those stairs without being overwhelmed by my anxiety.
Its not rational. I shouldn't be afraid to walk to a bathroom, but I was. I shouldn't be afraid to sleep in my own bed, but I was. I shouldn't be afraid to go into a car, but I was. Anxiety tricks your brain into thinking you're in danger, for me during that time 24/7. I sweat, I became shaky, was scared that when it got dark outside I'd go into a huge panic attack.
I have a rare symptom to my anxiety however. Not feeling in my body. This is why I was paralyzed with fear to do certain tasks. It's a lot more scary to get into your car when you feel like you're not even there. This probably has been my biggest struggle in life.
I want answers. Why do I have such a rare symptom? Each couple days it got a bit better, and by that I mean super slowly. For being a patient person, I was not patient. One of the biggest things that hurt to hear, was my mom saying "I didn't know how bad it was". Knowing/ Accepting that this had been one of the lowest lows in my life. It was even hard to pray.
At one point during the first few weeks of break I held condemnation toward myself, after comparing where I was to others. (It's so stupid to admit I have trouble walking to another room.) It's so easy. Why can't I do it? I hate that I can't do it easily. It's so dumb.
As it was December there was the extra stress of having a wonderful Christmas time. But I didn't. Christmas was gone and over with, and I felt as though I only got to enjoy a very little tiny crumb of it.
Stigma, why is that a thing. I know it's less stigmatized now then in the past, but it still makes me feel ashamed. Why don't you just stop worrying about these things, why don't you just get up? But the truth is these people don't know. They think these things are easy to overcome. But like a physical illness, it takes time to heal, and it's nothing to laugh at.
I've been getting stronger. I can finally do the tasks I wasn't able to before. Most of them. I can take care of myself, I can go out into the community, my bladder no longer has to suffer, I can sleep in my own bed. I don't have as much anxiety during the night. That's so important. Although I'm not where I want to be yet, I'm happy that I've improved. Without the hope of Jesus, I may have fallen even deeper. He brings joy to my life. I can't imagine living in a world while dealing with depression. Its the absolute worst. I got lucky and only experienced a few weeks of it. I pray for you all with these illnesses.
I'm thankful for my parents who were patient with me, not rushing the process of healing. But being kind, and reminding me that it'll be okay. Not getting discouraged. I feel so purely loved by them.
I hope this story can inspire you, or make you not feel so alone in the world.
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