STORY TIME: MY PATH TO FIGHTING MY ISSUES

I considered never speaking directly about myself and my own issues simply because I didn’t know that I wanted everything to be so "public". Obviously I don’t share every detail of my life, but this seemed super personal. But I decided I should talk about it, not only for myself but for anyone else who might benefit from it. 

Everyone is different. Some people have lifelong battles with mental illness, some have chunks of time taken over by it, some have only experienced one major bump in the road, and others have never struggled with it at all.

I’m here to tell you that they are all…well, not “normal” per se, but not particularly abnormal either. You’re not alone if any of those categories seem to fit you to a T. 

Because everyone’s path in life is different, I figured I’d share my personal experience battling my own personal issues. We’ve all got something, and we’ve all got our own story. 

I was a troubled kid. At least at home I was. I got in trouble a lot, fought with everyone, cried and got incredibly angry for no apparent reason, and could never seem to control my emotions from completely taking over. But at school, I was quiet, shy and awkward. I had a hard time making friends early on, and my number one fear in the entire world was having to speak in front of the class. My face would turn bright red, I would forget how to breathe, and words would be cut off while I gasped for the air I was lacking from the nerves building up inside of me.

Traumatizing was an understatement every time I had to speak up, or got called on, or even had to get paired off into partners. I remember wanting to get up and run away if everyone had a partner and nobody wanted to be mine. 

At night, I would be upset and cry and dread going to school, but dread being at home too because I was constantly in a fight with my parents. 

Time went on, and it wasn’t until sophomore year of high school that things started to make more sense. I don’t remember a lot about that year because I seemed to have blocked it out of my memory completely. But I know that was my first long and serious period of depression. I was in such a funk, but thought I was doing a great job of hiding it. But apparently I wasn’t, because my best friend picked up on it. I didn’t know what to tell her, because I didn’t actually KNOW what was wrong. I didn’t think I had depression, I just thought I was in a long term bad mood. I was sick of high school, and the people around me. That was all.

I came out of it, though. But freshman year of college, it happened all over again. My friends would have to drag me out of my bed, which I laid in in my pitch dark room in the middle of the day. They thought I didn’t like them anymore, but I didn’t know how to explain to them that that wasn’t it at all, I just didn’t know what was wrong and all I knew is that I wanted to be alone and sleep. 

It was around this time that I started to know that this, along with my crippling anxiety about almost everything, was a problem. The only time I didn’t have that anxious, butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling was when I was asleep. I woke up with it, and fell asleep with it. 

I finally decided to tell my mom. I felt relief that I was finally putting some of it into words, and even better, she understood. I wasn’t crazy, I wasn’t abnormal. And I could fix it. I didn’t HAVE to live like this! 

I went to a doctor, explained how I felt, and was prescribed Zoloft. I’ve been on it ever since. It significantly reduces my anxiety, and I haven’t had a long-term, major depressive episode in a long time. I still get down, I still get anxious, I still want to be left alone sometimes. But the difference is phenomenal. If I don’t take my medication two days in a row, I can tell. Everyone around me can tell, because I feel myself falling back into the mess I was before it.

Now, medication isn’t for everyone at all. Some people benefit more from therapy, and other methods of coping with their problems. But for me, this has helped me more than I could ever explain.

Whatever your problems are, there’s something or someone out there to help you. You don’t have to live miserably. You are not your problems, and your problems do not own you.