It's O.K. to Admit That You're Not O.K.
**Trigger Warning: Anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation discussed in this story.
Hello readers,
Happy post-Thanksgiving day or Black Friday if you're celebrating! On this day when most people are out taking advantage of deals and buying things they'll most likely regret buying the next week, I am here on my couch taking the time to reflect on the feelings the holidays have sprung for me. For some people, Thanksgiving is a love-filled day about family and reflection – and it is for me too – but this holiday can also spark feelings of anxiety. For me, I absolutely LOVE Thanksgiving (it's one of my favorite holidays!) but it's also a day that makes me feel anxious and overwhelmed. I love being around family, but the large amount of people crowded in my home for several hours offers me little to no physical and mental space. And you see, as an anxious introvert, I need space in order to function. Something that is also anxiety-inducing is embarrassing yourself by causing a scene at Thanksgiving (Thanks anxious brain!).
And when you cause a scene, you don't necessarily gain a lot of fans. People look at you weird, some sympathize, and some just make unsolicited comments that make you feel even worse about yourself. I have anxiety and one of the behavioral symptoms of anxiety is irritability. I used to think that I had anger issues, but I realized that I am just highly irritable. So when I noticed that my headphones had disappeared from my room and someone may have stolen them or mistakenly took them, I went nuts! I had a total meltdown, and wrongly accused some people. Did I feel good about it afterwards? No. I felt terrible. I had let my anxiety brain get the best of me and cloud my judgement. I made some irrational and impulsive decisions that I now regret. So, with the aftermath of this event and the snowballing of my emotions the past couple of days, I had a lot to think about (after a good cry of course). To re-gather my thoughts, I journaled. And the conclusion I came to after journaling is this: I need help, and that's O.K.
As you know, I am currently taking a semester off. In the spring, I hope to attend New York University if everything works out. A lot of good things have come from this time off: discovering my passion, figuring out next steps, taking those next steps, succeeding in getting into college again, honing in on my interests, taking advantage of opportunities, re-discovering my love-hate relationship with the city, to name a few. However, this time off also came with a lot of bad emotions. I re-acquainted myself with the loneliness of my childhood as a result of social isolation; I visited my old friend depression; and I started having suicidal thoughts. I have experienced suicidal ideation before – it is common when experiencing extreme stress, anxiety, and depression – but never to such intensity. In the last few days, I have been crying my eyes out to the point that I get intense headaches and my mouth becomes so dry it thirsts for water, as if all the water in my body has left through my tear ducts and the body must be replenished in order to maintain homeostasis. One of these days, I even texted my therapist in a state of panic because I didn't know who else to turn to. In addition, recently I've been seeing a hanged girl in the shadows of my living room walls – a shadow I had not seen before. All of these signs lead me to the conclusion that I need help.
Consistency is important to my wellbeing, and my life recently has been all but consistent.
I have been actively treating my anxiety since my freshman year of college. I've tried everything from self-care – meditation, exercise, changing my diet, stress management – to therapy. Some have been affective, but none have shown me the results I want. For example, meditation and exercise helps with improving my mood and makes me feel alive again, but without a consistent workout schedule the improvements have been minor. I have changed my diet to limit my intake of red meat and fatty foods, but without the motivation to cook for myself and relying on my mom's cooking, my eating habits have been sporadic and the joy of eating has vanished – only adding fuel to my depression. Therapy has been most affective for me, but with two weeks of not being able to see my therapist, my mood has been drastically declining and my anxiety has spiked. Consistency is important to my wellbeing, and my life recently has been all but consistent. It takes too much effort to walk to the subway station to commute to the gym, and people are unreliable – things come up, people take vacations, schedules changes and appointments are cancelled. After all, therapists are people too. I've decided that I want to see a better improvement in my mood and anxiety. I want something consistent and with great results. I've talked to my therapist and parents, and I've come to the conclusion that I want to explore medication options.
A mental illness is just as serious as a physical illness.
I want to give medication a try – either pharmaceuticals, over-the-counter, or non-traditional treatment options (i.e. CBD oil). There was a time in which I swore I would never take medication to treat my anxiety. If all else fails, medication would be my last resort. In my mind, if I had to rely on medication to feel good, I had failed. I had anxiety not a physical ailment; I could find a way to make myself feel better without drugs. But, a mental illness is just as serious as a physical illness. Our brains are an organ that is just as important, and in need of care, as all the other organs in our body – it is time that we start treating it as so. Seeking medication to treat your mental illness does not make you a failure, it means that you're taking proactive steps to improve your overall well-being – which is more than others can say. I am taking this active step because I am tired of feeling this way. I want to better myself in order to protect myself and others. As 'SNL's, and Ariana Grande's former boo, Pete Davidson says, 'There's no shame in the medicine game'.
Xo, Naydeline