“What’s wrong with me?” is a question I ask myself everyday. If I look back on how I used to feel the way I feel now is completely different. My illness has changed and I don’t know into what. It’s like when you see something everyday and you don’t notice any change then when you stop looking for a while all of a sudden its unfamiliar and different yet the same. I don’t know if that makes any sense to anyone but that’s the best way I can describe it. I cant put together words that fully explain the complexity of what is going on inside me. My Doctor and Therapist think I may have Borderline Personality Disorder and that I’m drug resistant, but they aren’t positive so I’m being sent to a psychiatrist. In the past few months I’ve been on 6 different medications; Lexapro, Zoloft, Wellbutrin, Pristiq, Manerix, and Clonazepam. All together in the past few years I’ve been on 7 with Prozac. Nothing works. They can change the dosage, or the drug and I’d feel the same. Of course I feel something but almost like its working just not in the right spot if that makes sense. I don’t know, you can probably tell I’m having hard time explaining all of this. The worst part is not knowing what’s wrong with me. Before when they said I had depression and anxiety I upset but was able to accept it but this is different. This is a different monster all together. I feel it growing inside me slowly consuming me from the inside out. It cripples me. I thought I was bad before, but boy was I wrong. I keep trying to surround myself with the things I love and make me happy, art, movies, books, work, and removing stress but nothing works. It makes me feel even worse to be honest. The things that helped me get out of these low points push me down further because they don’t even take the edge off. If I knew what was wrong with me I could try and fix it but I don’t and its killing me. I just want to know, what’s wrong with me?
blog
i don’t work like that.
I’m constantly told that I need to let go of the bad that’s happened to me in order to move forward and be happy. That frustrates me more than ever. Don’t get me wrong I’ve tried and tired but its a lot harder then you think. The more I think about it the more I don’t think it’s a realistic option for me. It’s easy to focus on the good that’s happened when your good to bad day ratio is a healthy balance. Everyone has their fair share of shit days but if you look back on life can you say you had more good days then bad? I can’t. I’m not just saying that either because I’m in a shitty place mentally, I actually mean I have had more shitty says in the past 20 years then good days where I’ve been truly happy. Its sad but it’s just how my life has unfolded. Take a step back and you should come to the same conclusion that your experiences, emotions, people, and life events have shaped who you are as a person, the good and the bad. What happens when your like me? What happens if the shitty days and shitty experiences made me into the person I am and this miserable, mentally ill, and emotionally fucked up person doesn’t just have a mental illness but is who I’ve developed into as a person? What if it made me my disorder. What if my name isn’t Mac what if its Anxiety and Depression? I have known nothing else but what it feels to be completely alone and living in my head. I try to change my mind set of it and not make everything seem so bleak and doomy but its hard to see the light when you never even leave your bed. The more I write what I feel I start to believe I’m a whole hell of a lot more dramatic than I am poetic in expressing my deepest thoughts. That could also be the Social Anxiety creeping out of me like a nasty habit when I think about publishing this blog.
medicate me
Lately my depression and anxiety have been going downwards and life hasn’t been as bright and happy as it once was. I was off my 120mgs of Zoloft for 11 months and I thought I was okay. I was oh so very wrong. It started with extreme anger problems. When I say anger problems I mean everyone and everything made my blood boil. I’d watch a T.V show and something would happen and I’d get so upset that I’d rant about it and then quit watching. Also my family will ask a simple question like “How was your day?” and that would be enough to send me into a rage even I didn’t understand. The anger lasted a few weeks and that molded itself into depression. I didn’t want to get out of my bed or even see any of my friends. I skipped out on plans and even thought about suicide again (I never harmed myself or acted on these feelings). As of now the depression has moved to crazy anxiety. My anxiety is so bad I had 3 major panic attacks in 4 days. My anxiety even went into what my therapist calls “Nonsense Anxiety” where the littlest thing will set me into a panic. For example, a lady at work had bought me a coffee and when my shift was over I forgot to grab my full hot coffee from the staff room before I got in my car and drove home. This was at around 4:30pm and the store closed at 6:00pm and I didn’t even remember the coffee until 6:30pm. Once I had remembered I immediately had a horrible feeling. I started to pace and shake. I asked my sister for one of her Ativan (yes she suffers from anxiety also, and don’t take other peoples medication, I only did because it was what I was previously prescribed they year before) but she said she didn’t have any she could spare. That made me panic even more because I knew I was already starting to have an attack and the only way to stop it was with a sedative of some sort. Once I started crying uncontrollably my sister gave me one of her pills, I think she could see I was really suffering. I went to a quite place and started hyper ventilating and crying while I waited for the medication to take affect. I kept each sob quite and silent mostly so nobody really knew the true torture I was in because for me there is nothing worse then someone watching me panic and touching me. This was all over a $2.00 fucking coffee. At that point I knew medication was going to be my only option because all my coping skills and therapist appointments weren’t cutting it. After that last panic attack it never actually went away it stuck with me for a couple more days. I went to my therapist told her and she told me that medication was my next step. She faxed a letter to my family doctor who I met with a couple hours later explaining everything. So now I have a new medication called Lexapro and I’ve been on it a couple days. I haven’t noticed a change yet but hopefully in the next few weeks I will. The one thing that gets me is I never wanted to be on medication again. I hate having to take a pill everyday for probably the rest of my life or at least a good portion of it. I wanted to be well enough I didn’t have to take it anymore but that’s not my life and that’s not how my brain works. It sucks. To some this may seem dramatic but for me it’s like being reminded you have a life long disease with absolutely no cure but can only “manage” it. It fucking sucks. I’ve said before I don’t believe in a magic cure just hard work and finding the right balance of whatever works for an individual person. I try and be positive but it sucks. Like my doctor said though: “It’s not your fault you’re like this. You were born this way unfortunately”.
-Mac
Update
So here I am again depressed and anxious. The worst part about it is I 100% did it to myself. I stopped taking my Zoloft, stopped seeing my therapist, and tried to push myself. All of those alone may seem like a dream come true for a lot of people out there suffering with mental illness, but in fact it was the exact opposite. Firstly, I was a down right idiot and stopped taking my meds without doctor approval, or supervision (DO NOT DO THIS). Not only is it extremely painful (makes you sick and hurt), its very unsafe. Then why did I do it you ask? Well I thought I could do without it. I thought I was well enough to take on the world drug free. Its been 6 months now and I can honestly say I have never been more wrong in my life. I was not ready. The honeymoon stage of it lasted about 3 months, but I think that had mostly to do with the fact I moved to the middle of nowhere in northern Canada to work from May until September, not much different from where I am now just there had no roads, only 4 people and some randoms. Nothing to get worked up about when all you do is work all by yourself and get paid. Well I did have my heart broken by a stupid boy that’s another post in and of itself. Anyways what I’m trying to get at with all this is I wasn’t ready. You see the meds make you feel better, and then you think your better but really its just the pills. I need them. For the people that don’t actually believe in taking a pill will help you, your wrong. Is it a cure? Fuck no. Its a tool. I have tried just about everything in the past 10 years and they are the only thing that helps. I hate them because I mean its hard, but I cant live without them. If I didn’t need them I wouldn’t take them but honestly as I sit here I cant lie and say I’m doing fine because I am not. Not at all. I feel like shit, I have no motivation and my mind will not stop. I want to curl up in to a ball and disappear and pretend my life isn’t real and my problems wont bother me while I’m laying under layers of blanket armor. I stopped telling my lovely therapist all of the fucked up problems in my head. It is the only thing I now believe kept me sane. Like I literally believe telling my dark thoughts to this lady actually helped me accept what I was thinking. I miss her. I recently called to make an appointment but because they haven’t heard from me in so long they closed my file so I’m on a waiting list. I’m scared because I might not have her as my therapist anymore. It took me 2 years to get to the point where I could tell her how my week went without going through my past. I need to talk about what’s happening now not about the shit that happened in 5th grade, I’m 20 years old now. Lastly, I pushed myself way to hard this summer with friends, and boys, and people in general. I have social anxiety, I DONT TALK TO PEOPLE, and I feel like I just pushed myself to much. I’m so messed up. Here is to hoping I can figure my crap put once again and start to feel better.
-Mac
crushed
It’s always me. Every single fucking thing that goes wrong is on my shoulders. I can’t do it. I haven’t been taking my meds so that may also be a contributing factor as to why I’m crumbling apart but honestly I felt this way when I was taking them so I mean its whatever. Today, while my dad was drunk he burnt his house down. I’m panicking. The anxiety of losing all those possessions and our home cripples me. Sure it was my dad’s home and we still have my mom’s (my parents are divorced) but it was my home. Just sitting on the couch at my grandmas my uncle says that I have to take care of him, find him a place to live and help him caused me to have a panic attack. Yes I get family looks out for each other and takes care of each other but I’m fucking 19 years old, in college, and in about $11,000 in debit. The pressures of being young, living with mental illness, and dealing with the pressures I have on top of that is actually destroying me. Why couldn’t I have a normal family, normal brain, and a normal life? Every time I think things are going to work out I’m hit so hard with something that devastates me. It literally knocks the wind out of me.
-Mac
I miss it
I miss it. This may confuse some people. “How can she miss what was killing her?” “How can she miss an illness that destroyed her?” Well the truth is I do. Before you get all confused, maybe upset, and even keep reading to see how fucked up I am listen. When you know what everyday holds for you for years, anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, and an eating disorder, they become all you know. You give them names and talk to them like a freak because you’ve managed to push everyone you’ve ever loved away and they’re all you’re left with. You know that every morning you wake up you know what that days going to be like. You’ll wake up anxious and scared, you will get depressed because you cant leave your bed, which then leads to being suicidal because what’s the point. You now ANA and MIA are there to encourage you to keep going and telling you WILL be beautiful if you skip this meal or purge that food. It becomes like a safety blanket that is killing me. When you’re in recovery everyday is a battle and everyday you’re forced to fight for you’re life, but when you’re tired, and you cant push anymore yes you do miss the predictableness of your illnesses and all you want is to just giving up and let it consume you. Its an addiction almost and it eats away at you. It sucks. This is what its like for me.
-Mac
I care but i dont care
For as long as I care to remember I have always thought I cared about what people thought about me but at the exact same time I could not care less what people thought about me. How is it I can think two opposite things. I have been thinking about this lately and I am starting to figure out that in fact that is completely wrong. I just had no idea what it was that was wrong. You see I don’t really care what people think about me I care about what I think other people think about me and there is a difference. I worry so much about what I think people think I forget people think for themselves. I cannot think for them. So no matter how I act or what I wear or where the hell I am from I will never know what people think about me. Also, how selfish is it of me to think someone would spend so much time and effort picking apart all my flaws when I am sure they have much more important things to do. So to restate I do not care what you think of me I care what I think you think of me and I need to change that.
– Mac ♥
in my own words
If asked how to put depression into my own words; it would be this; with depression; you don’t see what’s around you. One day it’s summer and the next it’s winter and you ask yourself how the hell did I get here? I don’t remember fall. It’s a painful wandering of the mind that paralyzes the body. You sit with depression for what seems like an hour to only find out its been two months but all at the same time it feels like an eternity, you lose all concept of time. You question every thing you’ve ever done and allow your mind to torture you with petty indiscretions that nobody remembers. The worst part is you know it’s all in your head but you cannot stop it. You’re a slave to the darkness that consumes your mind. It’s only in moments of clarity that you awake from the painful slumber to realize you hate your life and then the cycle of unhappy thoughts take over once again. You watch, you cry, and you scream as your life passes you by. You care but can never find the energy to care enough. It’s a unnecessary torture that one alone can only stop with help and advice from some stranger who sits in a chair and meets with you once a week or the poison in a bottle that they tell you is supposed to help. Depression can be stopped but it’s not as easy as one may think. It’s like trying to win a war with only wooden weapons against an army with heavy artillery Not impossible but extremely difficult. So in my own words again I say depression; is a painful paralytic that destroys our minds.
-mac ♥
what should i do?
The last time I felt this lost was a year ago when I was so depressed and so anxious I couldn’t even get out of my bed in the morning or leave my house. Sure in some ways I’m doing much better but I’m not doing as well as I could be. I’m lost. Lost in my head and that’s worse than what you could ever imagine. Being lost in your head is questioning yourself and everything you’ve ever done. It’s worse than just over thinking because while you’re lost in these thoughts you lose bits and pieces of yourself as well. I’m in college and I hate it. I don’t like my program or how I’m doing in it. I want to go home. Yes I only live 4 hours away but when you have grown up in a small town of only 8000 and move to a city it’s hard. It’s different, and I’m proud of where I come from small town or not I love it there. Its home and always will be. I miss my mom, dad, my little sister and brother. I miss my best friend and how we always complain that there’s nothing to do but always find something and having such a great time that we laughed until it hurt. I miss the dirt roads and the fresh air. I miss everything. I’m not ready to give that all up and “grow-up”. Lately I’ve been having heart problems and because I was born with CHD or Congenital Heart Defect it’s serious. Doctors believe that I’ve had such bad anxiety lately that it’s affecting me physically more than usual. I like certain things here. I like being independent, my mother and I fight all the time and I just can’t deal with that bullshit right now, it’s just way too much, plus I’ve made some amazing friends here and it would suck to say goodbye. The hard truth is I’m not happy but I fear regrets almost more than anything. What happens if I leave here to go home and miss out and regret not staying, but what happens if I stay and fall deeper into the bottomless pit of mental illness like I have before and regret not going home? I need someone to tell me what to do because I’m at a cross roads lost in my mind I don’t know which way to turn. Apart of me wants to explore the world and travel and part of me wants to finish college, get a good job and start a family. What happens if I miss out on one doing the other? I want to explore and try new things but I also want the comfort of what I know and stay with it. If I take a year or so off what will people think and what will I end up going to college for in the end? I want to be a psychologist, a horse trainer, an artist and a yeah I’m kind all over the place. I want to be everything and nothing. I want a cookie cutter life but I also want adventure and the unexpected. It may seem like an easy answer to some but not for me. I don’t want to “run away” from my problems but I don’t want to be unhappy.
– mac ❤
Do i know you?
Social Anxiety is the anxiety disorder I was diagnosed with at 13. I couldn’t attend classes, I couldn’t attend hockey, I couldn’t make it out of my bed in the morning. I used to make my self throw up in the morning just so I didn’t have to go to school. I would cry, kick, scream and have panic attacks almost everyday just at the thought of going anywhere with lots of people. I thought I was invisible. I honestly thought nobody knew who I was and that was the only form of comfort I had. I didn’t think people would notice if I was there or not. People used to say “hi” to me or try talking to me but I always thought it was some kind of joke, I mean everyone knew my friends I was just the invisible shadow that followed behind them, right? I apparently have been labelled a “bitch” and honestly never meant to be I just push people away to protect myself and thought anyone who tried taking to me was paid to or in someway making fun of me… I don’t know. I feel horrible about it all because it was only in the last few months that I have actually really realized people know who I am. People have told me that they’ve heard lots about me and for life of me I have no idea who the heck they are or people say hi to me and I can recognize their face but not their name. The fact is I made everyone invisible to me instead of thinking I was invisible to them. Anxiety blinded me. I wish I knew then what I know now and maybe id be in a different place.
♥ mac
inside my anxiety 