by anonymous | Feb 26, 2019 | Anxiety, Coping With Depression, Depression, Eating Disorders, Feelings, Impulse Control Disorders, Mental Health, Self Esteem, Self Injury, Self Loathing, Skin DIsorders, Therapy |
I am neglected.
I’m the product of parents who didn’t know how to fulfill my emotional needs.
I alternate between believing both that “my parents gave me everything; I had a happy childhood; I don’t have any reason to be this messed up,” and “my parents emotionally neglected me; I had an awful childhood; no wonder I am this messed up.“
I fantasize about being in the hospital because that seems like the ultimate (and only) way that people might finally see me and care about me. Logically, I know that it’s not true, but my emotional brain is convinced that being sick or hurt is the way to get the love, attention, and care that is not present in my daily life.
I am ashamed.
I’m a 22-year old who is still desperately attached to my mangled childhood stuffed animal, Lambie.
I surreptitiously, but uncontrollably, pull out my own hair. I know have trichotillomania (and dermotillomania while we’re at it), but it’s one of my most shameful “secrets.”
I eat spoonsful of Nutella straight from the jar, and sometimes that will be the only thing I eat for the majority of the day.
I am depressed.
I am pained getting out of bed in the morning. It’s hard to relate to people who casually say, “Yeah, I didn’t want to get up this morning,” but may not understand the gravity of depression. It hurts to the bone.
I have trouble taking my daily antidepressants because a hidden part of me doesn’t believe I’m worthy of feeling better.
I am obsessed with filling my brain with as much information about mental illness as possible. And yet, no matter how much I read books, articles, and studies about eating disorders, depression, anxiety, or impulse-control disorders, I struggle to control my own mental health.
I have a hard time with “I’m depressed.” Maybe because I don’t believe that the real me is just buried under mental illness. It’s more like “I’m a person living with depression.” It has taken so much of my personality and soul out of me, but without depression, I am a lively, joyful girl.
I am taking care of myself (or I’m learning to).
I practically begged my parents to see a therapist, nutritionist, and psychiatrist, when I was only 15 years old. It certainly wasn’t easy, especially because we didn’t talk about anything “emotionally charged,” but I knew that it was a step I had to take in order to alleviate my pain.
I reach out to others when I need it most. Even though I isolate, too, I also know that in moments of desperation, I do instinctively ask for help and support from those I trust.
I treat myself to occasional manicures, special purchases (a dress, a pillow, some art supplies), and a lazy Sunday. As much as my brain tries to trick me into thinking that I am worthless and unlovable, I try to actively do things for myself that remind myself that I deserve care.
I am brave.
I share my story with very few people, but when I do, it is the most rewarding experience. Sharing real experiences and thoughts is how I create deep connections with people.
I moved to Denmark for my first job out of college. I don’t speak the language, I’ve never been away from home for more than four months, and I left my entire support network at home.
I am working full-force in therapy at facing the demons and insecurities I have hidden for years. I am taking charge of my life by learning to be vulnerable, accept my flaws, and love myself in spite of them, and find happiness for the first time in my life.
by anonymous | Feb 25, 2019 | Family, Feelings, Happiness |
As I’ve gotten older (read: 29 for the first time), I’ve come to realize something.
Family is what you make it. I have a fuckton of blood relatives – aunts, uncles, cousins I can’t even name or recognize on the street. This is because we don’t live anywhere close to them. I have two sisters I rarely see because we can’t always be in the same room with each other without wanting to hurt someone. And, again, we don’t live in the same state.
When I got married, I got a whole new family – Uncle Sam’s many minions. Again, we don’t all live in the same state, but we have that one thing in common: our significant other is a military member, and we deal with that in the best way we can. Some of us handle it better than others. Whatever. We’re bonded. We know. We speak our own language.
This past September (ish – I don’t remember if I got dressed unless I look down), Aunt Becky put out a call on The Twitter. She was looking for some peeps to help with behind-the-scenes here at Band Back Together.
I’ve been a long-time reader of Aunt Becky’s and read all of her posts, then jumped on the bandwagon when she started this site. I love this site. I’ve loved it from day one. I’ve read all your stories. So when AB asked for help, I thought, “Heh, how hard can that be?” So I sent her an email and said “I’M IN!” And I got a new family.
Actually, I kinda got two. I got to be a part of the amazing people who submit, and I got to be an official member of “The Brains.” (Kinda sounds like its own band!) Seeing the front-side of the site for so long, I kinda thought I’d have a hard time finding stuff to do; it seemed to run so smoothly and without many hitches.
Boy, was I (mostly) wrong.
Behind the scenes is a WHOLE ‘nother world. Editing posts, scheduling posts, coming up with awesome Carnival and World Tour ideas, writing resource pages, commenting, social media teams, plus all that stuff that the IT crew takes care of that I have NO CLUE about. (Side note: I grew up in an IT-savvy family. I’m not computer illiterate. That crew talks about stuff I have never heard in my life.)
There are so many e-mails everyday, I almost can’t keep up. But, this is my new family. One I take with me everywhere I go. I’m waiting for the day when I’m wearing my “With the Band” t-shirt and someone gives me that knowing smile. Because they KNOW. They know what an awesome thing this site is.
I can’t speak for the other Brains, but we’ve saved lives. Mine, most especially. Both my kids are in school and when they started, I thought, “Finally! I can do whatever I want all day!” There’s only so much daytime television I can watch. The house can only be so clean (okay, I don’t clean – quit judging me). Job hunting was going nowhere. My depression was starting to rear its ugly head. I needed something to make me get out of bed in the mornings.
So now, I spend my days reading, commenting, promoting, writing, and laughing. Oh, my Brains make me laugh. And cry. It’s like a secret club that anyone can join. Because we are none of us alone. We are all connected (in the great circle of life).
And, ’cause I’m not too proud to beg, and I know Aunt Becky hates to do it, go nominate us for a Bloggie. It’s a small thing that would mean so much to our AB. ‘Cause without her, The Band wouldn’t be here.
And I’d like to keep my triangle skillz up.
by anonymous | Feb 22, 2019 | Anxiety, Ask The Band, Chronic Illness, Fear, Feelings, Mental Health, Postpartum Depression |
My fiancé and I have been together for over three years. We have an almost 1.5 year old daughter. I have chronic illnesses.
I have good days and bad days, as well as post partum depression.
Why do I always feel like he’s going to be sick of me being sick and leave? He’s fully supportive at all times, and I rest when I need rest.
Will I ever feel good enough!?
by anonymous | Feb 21, 2019 | Anxiety, Coping With A Dysfunctional Family, Family, Feelings, Hypochondria, Mental Health, Panic Disorder |
My mother is a hypochondriac, and so my sister and I have grown to question, by default, everything she ever says about her health.
Six years ago, I got sick with an incurable condition. My sister has always questioned the validity of my condition, even though half a dozen doctors have confirmed it. While the condition is in remission, there are side effects that linger.
I can’t talk about my health struggles around my sister. I feel as though she dismisses them or invalidates them.
I can’t discuss my anxiety or panic attacks, even as they are happening. I can’t say no to going places because of my agoraphobia because I fear her reaction. I can’t mention the pain of my chronic hives because she’ll flippantly say “just put some lotion on it,” as if that will cure it.
I love my sister, but I wish I could be open and honest with her about what is going on in my life. But our mother has poisoned that potential. Every attempt at conversation about health ends in her shutting down. I understand why she does this, but I just wish that someday it could be different. We are not our mother, and we are allowed to get sick.
by anonymous | Feb 20, 2019 | Anxiety Disorders, Depression, Fear, Mental Health, Therapy |
So, I got my medicine adjusted like I said I was going to in my last post.
After a hilarious rigmarole of being referred to a doctor who only saw seniors, then one who only saw children, then one who didn’t take my insurance, I finally ended up with a really sweet doctor (who is the tiniest woman I’ve ever met).
She added another antidepressant to the one I was already taking, and it seems to have helped the symptoms in question – I’m still sleeping odd hours, but it’s only for 8-9 hours at a stretch, not 12-14, and my default state is “bored” instead of “bored and sad and mopey and lonely.”
And yet…
(There’s always an “and yet” with mental illness, isn’t there?)
(ed note: Yes. – AB)
And yet I’ve not managed to quite nail things down. I’ll stay up late without realizing how late it is, then sleep until 4 or 5 the next afternoon. The new medicine causes insomnia, so I was warned to only take it in the morning. But if I don’t take it when I wake up at 4 PM, then I’ll just sleep even more. If I do take it, I’ll be up all night and sleep late the next day. If I do manage to wake up early and take my medicine, I’m so tired that even the medicine can’t keep me up and I pass out around noon and wake up at 7 PM (which is what happened today).
I just want to wake up in the morning feeling at least somewhat rested and get tired at night being able to fall asleep. Since when is that such a massive thing to ask? If I could just do that AND have my medicine killing off the sadness and apathy, then all I’d have to do is muster up the motivation to do laundry and clean my room and make it look like a human being lives here!
To top it all off, I’m moving to North Carolina within the month. My best friend is moving back into her childhood home, which she inherited when her dad died, and she’s offered to let me live there rent-free if I cover half of the bills. Her area has a much better economy than mine, so I could find a job more easily. And there are nearby schools where I could get either an associate’s or a second bachelor’s degree in the field I want to move into. It’s too good an offer to refuse, so I’m cashing out my savings and heading up there as soon as she gets moved in and ready.
And yet…
What if it all falls apart? What if I can’t find a good psychiatrist nearby? I don’t even know what my insurance situation would be before I got a job. What if I get on this same fucked up sleep schedule again and my room stays this messy and I’m awful to live with and she hates me? What if I still don’t find a job and I burn through all my savings? What if I get the degree, and take out a bunch of loans to do it, and still can’t find a job even then?
I don’t know. I was so sure for awhile this medicine had made things a lot better, but I sure don’t feel any less afraid.
by anonymous | Feb 18, 2019 | Family, Happiness, Hope, Love |
This oughtta be pretty easy.
I’ve got a big ole dose of happy today.
It’s 2019!
I trust that you all have had a wonderful winter break with the kidlets, a Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, Awesome Festivus and Amazing New Year!
Mine has been great and today is being spent getting the decorations down, my calendar organized and my plan for implementing the few resolutions I’ve made for myself written down.
Here’s to a full year of happiness to you and your loved ones!
Share your Dose of Happy on your blog, on Facebook, on Twitter (#DOHMonday #WithTheBand) or write it on a napkin. Link up below and show the others some love!
