I wish it was that easy, Josh.
I’ve dealt with horrible depression and anxiety since the tender age of four.
I began having night terrors and morbid thoughts when my sister died. My mom was being treated at the time for her mental health and had a lot of impatient treatment. My step dad stayed home with my newborn brother and I during the evenings. He thought I was a burden and abused me. Anywhere from hitting me with sticks to cigarette burns. He started abusing my mom after she was home from the hospital. He was terrifying.
I started seeing a therapist at five. The same age that my son is now. I would tell her about the dreams I had about being abused and the thoughts about wanting to be with my sister. I felt safe with her. She had scented markers and always had me draw pictures of my feelings. Everything was purple because the grape smelling marker was my favorite.
Years later my mom filed for a divorce. Chris stalked us, cut our phone lines, harassed my mom at work. Again, a traumatizing experience for such a young girl. Is this how relationships are? Is this okay? Why is mom always crying?
Another few years go by and I’m in grade school. My classmates are awful. Always making fun of everything I do and how skinny I am . “You’re nose is huge. Your hair cut is stupid. You look anorexic.” So weekly visits with the school therapist started happening. It lasted from third grade until eighth grade.
Highschool comes. I hardly eat. I only talk to a few people. Most of the kids are the same ones from grade school. Someone finds my livejournal account and turns it into the dean. Every painful thought is read by the dean and principal. My mom gets a print out, the school counsler reads it. I get called to the office around 2 pm. My mom is crying, wondering what she did wrong with me. Back to therapy. Back to medicine that makes me feel like a zombie. The psychologist says I have clincal depression, anxiety, and borderline personality disorder. Great. I’m Winona Ryder in Girl, Interrupted.
After highschool I meet someone new. He was older, not like anyone I had ever been with before. He would pick me up late at night and take me back to his apartment. I fell hard and fast. I eventually moved in with him and went off my meds. Life was wonderful. When that love buzz faded I tried to leave. He threw a coffee mug at my head and said “no one will want you, you’re worthless now.” I stayed. He hurt me. We went through some horrible things together that damaged me. (That’s a story for another rainy day.) I finally left, with a bruise on my back and tears down my face.
I don’t even want to go into the current situation I’ve been living with for 7 years now. But I see the light at the end of the tunnel. It’s finally coming to a complete stop.
But I’m still here. And while there are about 739494 things on my mind, I have two little ones to keep me grounded. I have a few good friends that will always be around. I have the most amazing guy that calms the storms inside of me by just talking to me.
Now I’m happy. No medicine needed. No super strong anxiety. No feeling like I need to escape anymore. I’m just happy. I’m able to be myself and feel free. Sure, those ailments will always be there. But I choose not to let them define me anymore. I choose to not let them win. I choose to be happy with the new life I’m living. I choose to be happy being me.
