I’ve always had anxiety. My parents joked that I came out of the womb anxious. Because of this anxiety I’ve thrown up every single morning from since I was 4 1/2 years old (that’s 24 years for those of you keeping track at home). 24 years of throwing up every single morning. 24 years of unnecessary tests, scoping, probing, medication to rebuild the tissues of my esophagus, and organ removal to try to cure my chronic morning sickness. Yes. Organ removal.
During Covid I stayed home from work, church, and anything social for a total of 9 months, which was the worst thing I could have done. I thought my anxiety was bad until I tried venturing out into the world and doing things again, turns out I made my anxiety 1000 times worse. Venturing back out into the world for me meant crippling panic attacks in grocery store parking lots, sobbing, shaking, and hyperventilating at the thought of leaving the house, and an inability to do the things I once loved. I also developed a new symptom to my anxiety during this time, which was my entire body going numb. Anxiety was no longer something I just had to deal with and occasionally take rescue medication for, it was now in control of my entire life.
Venturing back out into the world meant more psychiatrist appointments and more medications than I’ve ever been on before. It meant more rescue medication than before. It meant trying to find natural remedies for panic attacks and surviving social situations because I grew exhausted of how xanax made me feel even though it became a daily part of my survival plan.
Normal things that had not increased my anxiety suddenly became out of the question. My increased anxiety made my marriage proposal weekend a living nightmare. Which looking back kills me because I would have loved to be in the moment and enjoy a meticulously planned out 4 days but I allowed my anxiety to make me hate every minute of it, and almost completely ruin it.
Anxiety is exhausting. It has stolen my life. It has become the biggest factor of my life. Every scenario I enter on a daily basis needs to have at least two exit strategies set in place, and that’s if I can even muster up enough mental strength to venture out of the house or out of my comfort zone. And believe me, my comfort zone is ridiculously small.
So please don’t tell me it’s just anxiety when it is something that has been debilitating my entire life and the lives of many others. If you don’t know what anxiety can do to a person, just stay out of the conversation.
I really just want to be at the whole clothed with strength and dignity and laughs without fear of the future part of my life now please.
I don’t feel strong enough to survive this pain much longer.
Key word there being “I”, I guess.
God needs to be my strength. I need to let Him in and allow Him to cover me in His strength and comfort. Because the reality of all of this is that I’m weak and fragile and broken.
I tend to do everything I can to attempt to numb my hurt because being out of control and being in pain is killing me. And the more I can numb the pain the better I feel like I can survive my days.
But the attempts to numb the pain are actually emotionally crippling me to the point where I’m not healing, I’m not thriving, and I’m certainly not relying on God or giving control over to Him.
So I sit on the floor in my tears, post panic attack, and I’m begging God with the last few ounces of strength in my body….to be my strength and my comfort. So that I may move on to a period of healing and be able to help others heal and be in relationship with God.
Lord, take this devastation and brokenness and create something beautiful for You.
I kill myself daily over and over again flipping through every single scenario in my head to figure out if I’m ruining my relationship, my friendships, my job, my family…
There is a never ending investigation against myself by myself to see where I am failing, where I am falling short, where I am being a hindrance and an annoyance instead of a help and a joy.
I thoroughly believe that me being mentally ill is going to be the downfall for everything that is good in my life.
Why should I be happy? I can’t be happy. I’m not happy. What am I currently ruining? How have I negatively affected my partner this week? Did I offend my best friend? Did I blow off my mom? Does everyone currently hate me?
I don’t know why I do this. I don’t know why I exhaust myself and overanalyze every single little interaction I have ever had. It’s exhausting. It’s ridiculous. But I can’t stop doing it.
I found this quote about OCD, “It’s like you have two brains – a rational brain and an irrational brain. And they’re constantly fighting.” – Emilie Ford. That’s how it feels. Like my brain is constantly battling itself.
I obsess over everything, little things are huge things, I destroy my nails and pick at my teeth and scratch the same spot on my hand over and over and over again and pull at the same spot on my ear while I destroy my brain thinking about every single detail, every single conversation, every single underlying tone, every single facial expression. It’s all glaringly loud and screaming in my head. I don’t know how to stop the cycle.
I’m sure plenty of you can relate to the fear of relapsing and spiraling with your mental health during this time of uncertainty. with society, with our jobs, with finances, with the inability to afford mental health care, with doctors offices closed. It’s definitely scary. It’s a game of survival. The only thing we can do is keep checking in on one another and make sure that when we can afford healthcare again…that we actually make the leap to get help.
Life after trauma takes a bit more time…if that makes sense.
Simple decisions that used to be decided in a single thought now seem to take days. And even after you’ve made a decision you rethink that every single moment until you make yourself crazy.
You find yourself distracted by everything and anything and focusing on anything in particular…besides your trauma…just seems utterly impossible.
Mindless distractions take the place of responsibilities. New ticks take the place of healthy habits. Nail biting, picking your cuticles until they bleed, biting your lips, staring off into space, scratching your skin, tapping your foot, rubbing your sleeve…all things you do to self soothe…yet they never seem to work. You obsessively pick at yourself until you feel better.
Life slows down, it stops, it pauses, but at the same time it’s going far too fast and you can’t seem to catch up.
The simplest things take far too much time, far too much brain power, and everything weighs so much. Life is too heavy.
Life is wading in water and sometimes the wading becomes so exhausting that you slowly begin to drown.
It’s easier to close everyone out, even the most important people in your life, than to let them in even for just a second because you know as soon as you do the rawness of your vulnerability and scars may scare them away.
So you sit in your trauma…in your pain…in your loneliness counting down the days until you feel normal again.
It was World Mental Health Day. this past Saturday and I couldn’t leave the couch.
It has been weeks of long exhausting days, mentally taxing crisis situations, faking it through required social interactions, and panic attacks for what seems like very little reason. Completely overthinking to the point of making myself physically ill.
I have not been taking care of myself. My worries and stresses have been overwhelming and instead of seeking a therapist or reaching out to my psychiatrist or most importantly spending time with God I’ve been wallowing in a state of mental distress.
On edge all the time, completely exhausted, not even taking a second to evaluate the state of my mental health and implement changes. Just embracing this as an it is what it is situation.
I talk about seeking out your support group, doing check-ins, and making sure you stay on top of your mental health…but I’ve been doing little of what I’ve been preaching recently. And I’m sick of it.
I’m so tired of this routine, the routine of keeping up with meds and psych appointments and coffee dates out with friends and functioning like a semi-normal human being…and then crumbling entirely.
Do you have anything you do to avoid the total mental breakdown days…weeks…months? How do you combat what feels like the inevitable with anxiety and depression?
I don’t know what I would do without my support system.
My very small close knit to me circle of people is astronomically important to me. They get it. They deal with their own mental chaos as well and they don’t drop me when I accidentally go four months living as a shut in because I can’t find the strength to leave the house let alone answer my phone.
But, while I’m drowning they’re praying. They’re making sure I’m alive. They’re waiting. And when I resurface from survival mode they’re there. No questions asked.
And I don’t know what I would do without them. I hope I am able to love them and support them as much as they do for me.
When you are going through the highs and lows of life and of mental illness there is nothing more important than your relationship with the Lord and your support system of people who love you and the Lord. That combination is my rock.
My support system reminds me to go to God, they challenge me to read my Bible and take a shower and get out of the house. They encourage me to call my doctor and actually be honest with him about how I’m doing.
Sticking to my treatment plan has been so incredibly difficult. But each time I fall off the horse they are there to help me get back up.
I can’t do this alone. Mental health is not something you go through alone. You go through it with your doctor, support system, and God.
One moment I’m fine. I’m happy. I’m going through my day like a normal functioning adult. I’m taking my meds, and not the emergency ones, just the maintenance ones. I can go to social functions with little difficulty.
….and the next I feel like I’m drowning, suffocating, being attacked from all sides, yet so completely alone.
I feel defeated. Ready to give up. Sobbing in a crumpled mess, unable to get up off the couch because I’m devastated and exhausted.
I just don’t know why. I feel like a failure. A burden. A screw up. I can’t do anything right. I’m not supposed to be happy.
Everything inside of me dies.
I fall asleep from the exhaustion of the fight in my own head and the next question is will I wake up completely fine? Or will the feelings of mental devastation roll over to the next day?
This battle within me is a never ending tidal wave going back and forth. Back and forth.
People say I’m just not relying on God. My doctor says I need to up my medication. I tell myself to just give in to the hurt. Give in to the mental battle and give up.
I can’t give up though. Because right now I’m in the middle of a good moment. I want to keep fighting to live a life dedicated to serving the Lord and loving those around me.
So I refuse to let myself give up even when everything inside of me is sick of fighting.
I pray the turmoil inside of me subside even the tiniest bit so I can see the light. I pray I can see God’s hand when I’m on the floor and can’t breathe. I pray I continue to fight. Continue to encourage others to fight. And continue to seek the Lord. He isn’t done with me yet.
When I was diagnosed with PTSD and a non hereditary exaggerated startle response I almost laughed, I had never even considered that other traumatic events in my life could lead to post traumatic stress disorder. My response was, “I was never in the military, so that can’t be right.” I was not educated enough to know that more people than just those who have served in the military can have PTSD.
My triggers may look different than yours because my traumatic experiences may be different. But loud sudden noises are a big trigger for me. A big sudden noise elicits an unpleasant response within me. I jump, my heart jumps, and need to take a minute to catch my breath. Dog barking is an immediate intense trigger when continuous elicits aggravation within me. I can’t explain it. I don’t know why. But continuous dog barking makes my skin burn and my insides are shrieking in panic.
Being touched is also a huge trigger for me. I don’t exactly know why but I get that feeling of panic and my skin burning. I feel fear and am instantly looking for an escape from the situation.
However, through dealing with this PTSD for the past 4 years I have been able to help others work through their PTSD triggers and talk with them about their mental health. So it’s been a good and bad thing. I enjoy the ability to help others with this and grow closer to the Lord together.
All we can do is find peace in our lives, find reasons to move past this, get help for our mental help, and rely on the Lord.
Oh the pit of mental disorders. Mental illnesses are nasty conniving liars. They tell you that everyone is out to get you, that the worst thing that could (or even couldn’t) possibly happen is bound to happen, they tell you that you are worthless, your life has no meaning, no worth, and no purpose, and no one likes you. They keep you up at night and they make you sleep too much. There is no in between. They give you unavoidable tendencies that make life a living nightmare. You establish unhealthy coping mechanisms just to get through the day because of them. They remind you of everything you’ve ever said or done that you aren’t too happy with yourself over. They tell you that you will never amount to anything. They tell you not to bother. Just sit this one out. Sit it all out. It isn’t even worth trying so why bother?
Mental disorders are best friends. When you have multiple diagnoses they are working together against you. Anxiety disorders are a constant hair raising whisper and a deafening scream all at once. Depression disorders keep you in the place that anxiety disorders tell you not to move from. Anxiety disorders tell you to not leave your bed because all of the worst case scenarios that play over and over in your head will happen if you step foot onto your bedroom floor and depression will keep you there. OCD and PTSD will refuse to give up the fight to let you live a normal life. One minor thing could happen to set off your PTSD and your entire day is ruined. You wanted a normal day? Well too bad. You aren’t going to get one.
There are so many of these binding and crippling mental illnesses that litter society and are never talked about. Suicide is mourned, yet depression is silenced. And when these life destroying disorders are left not talked about and untreated they can lead to a pit filled with darkness and despair with no hope of escaping. They can lead to self destruction and destruction of everything you love in your life. They can lead to lives taken too soon. Mental illnesses should not be silenced. They should not be kept in the dark. They should not be hidden. They should be treated. The thing with mental illness is you need to constantly work on it. It’s not one of those things you can ignore and hope it goes away. Ignorance leads to growth which leads to a less hopeful process of healing and treatment.
Do not be dismayed, do not rest in the feeling of defeat and loneliness because there is hope for us. There is bountiful overflowing amount of hope for everyone who suffers from a mental illness. Over the next four weeks I am going to focus on mental health and finding ways to stick to treatment instead of running and hiding from it. We are only as strong as we think we are. And with the right team and treatment plan we can all find a life filled with genuine happiness, fantastic mental health, and hope. Let’s get out of this pit.
Anyone who has depression understands the disconnect from responsibility that happens far too often. During these lows you neglect tasks that need to be done because you can’t even begin to think about getting out of bed or doing anything that might require a thought process. There is a total shut down that happens. And I encourage that behavior. I despise it. But I allow it. I enable it for as long as I need to. But I am so done with that mindset. I’m furious with myself for becoming this person who gives in to their mental illness. I live my life in a constant state of anxiety, denial, and disconnect. And I’m done.
Important mail piles up, piles pile up, laundry doesn’t get done, my floor becomes a pathway of items instead of a floor. The house can be completely clean and dishes need to be done…but I can’t function enough to keep my own room organized. My room becomes a direct product of my depression.
I’m breaking up with my depression. I’m breaking up with avoiding my psychiatrist. I’m breaking up with the inability to keep my life together. This week is the beginning of the new me. I am NOT my depression. I am NOT my anxiety. Or my PTSD. I am Kait. I am a daughter of God. I am a fully capable woman who can handle life without giving in to my diagnosis. Not only handle life but dominate it. And not because I am strong. Not because I am able. I’m not. I am fully aware of my own shortcomings, trust me. But I can do all things through God who gives me strength.
I will start my day talking with the Lord, and continue my day talking with Him. I will get ahead of this illness. I will take my meds. I will meet with my psych on a regular basis. I will not give in to the behaviors of my illnesses. I refuse to be that person. It is not who I am.