A lot of my posts these days concentrate on mental illness.
I think I always knew something was wrong with me and that I wasn’t “normal” (low moods, low self-esteem, lack of concentration, life goals etc etc) but I never really before felt “mentally ill”.
I mean yeah I’d had multiple mental health diagnoses which I’ve even blogged about, but I always felt that my so-called illnesses were due to the childhood sexual abuse and other major stressors in my life and that they were just a symptom, not a disease.
After the last real crisis and subsequent psych unit stay I kind of “woke up” and realized I do have psychiatric problems and that I should stop underestimating the effects of depression and anxiety.
I have looked at my life and I see destruction everywhere due to my illnesses and troubles, and it makes me feel sad that I haven’t ever taken myself and my struggles seriously before.
But it’s okay I guess, depression is one of those mental illnesses that you can hide, you can wear a mask and pretend you’re okay and try and try in life despite the struggles.
I don’t think I’ve ever gotten appropriate care or help, and that sucks.
Although, I don’t think I have ever tried seriously changing OR working on myself.
I have done a lot of work on the abuse and stuff like that, but never really worked on depression or anxiety as such, in their own right.
So now it’s been a week and a half since my crisis and hospitalization and I’m kind of back to “normal”; planning my life and living in it and getting excited about things, but something is different. I feel like I have a deeper understanding of life and of my troubles, and I feel like I’m living more in the present than I have ever before.
Every moment is a gift. Yeah, I hate some moments in my life and find a lot of things (most things, in fact) about life unbearable or very difficult to deal with, but..I am alive, and really it is up to me what I do with what I have been given.
No one can take the abuse away. I can’t go back to being a child and trying to respond differently to the family life and the domestic violence; I can’t try to tell someone because that time is gone and now is today.
I can’t change how I’ve responded to stressors, I can’t take away the coping mechanisms that I’d developed all the way back then that continue to today.
I can however look at who I am and why I am the way I am and re-live the painful memories and hopefully hopefully hopefully have enough strength to .. change. Become a happier person. Someone who wants to live.
Right now, I don’t want to kill myself, I’m not actively suicidal, but I don’t necessarily care if I’m dead or alive. I happen to be alive and I’m not going to change that on my own, but if I were dead I don’t think it would make a big difference.
And this is not life, really.
Who wants to live like this? I don’t. So it’s either I want to live, or I die.
So I dunno. Thoughts. Some anxiety. Feel like going back to bed…