So I was actually going to write this
post back at the end of the May (around the 2 year break up
anniversary), but then . . . I just got busy and it got pushed to the
back burner and I ended up not getting around to it then.
But the more I've thought about it, the
more I've realized that today—the first of July—is actually a
more appropriate anniversary for this journey I've been on. Because,
even though it was on May 25th that Ex-Fiance told me he
didn't think we should get married, that relationship didn't truly
end—and I didn't truly start to focus on myself and getting
better—until I moved back up to Flagstaff. And that happened two
years ago today.
Honestly, it's hard to even know where
to begin when I talk about this. I've changed so drastically since
that day two years ago that I barely know how to put it into words.
I've talked about it a lot on here, in bits and pieces, but summing
it all up is a challenge.
The day that Ex-Fiance drove me to
Flagstaff felt like the worst of my life. To say I was miserable
would be a pretty major understatement. I remember the anxiety and
numbness coming in waves: my stomach knotting up, palms sweating,
heart racing, and then a sudden detachment, a sense of almost
nothingness, like I was outside of my body and all around not a part
of what was going on. I didn't want to be in Flagstaff; I kept
thinking that there was no way I was ever going to get better in the
place where my life had completely fallen apart. I kept thinking
about my nephew and and saying goodbye to him and how awful that had
been, and how bitter I was at being forced out of my hometown and
away from my family. At the time I had a crappy job and really
didn't know how I was going to survive financially. I knew I needed
a full time job, but I also knew that I wasn't mentally well enough
to hold down a full time job . . . and I wasn't going to be able to
afford treatment without a full time job. (How's that for a vicious
cycle?). I didn't have a car and I was dreading having to depend on
the bus system. And on top of that I had just gotten dumped; I was
with the man I loved, the man I had fully intended to spend the rest
of my life with, the man I was supposed to have married just the day
before, and I knew that at the end of the day he was going to leave.
I remember that he stuck around for a few hours, and that I felt like
I was going to throw up when he finally said he needed to get going.
He kissed me and told me he loved me before he left; I stood on my
porch and watched him drive away and wished that I was dead.
On that day my life just didn't make
sense. I looked at it from all the angles I could, and it sucked
from every single one. I don't think I'd ever felt more defeated
than I did that day. My future—to me, at least—looked bleak.
Very, very bleak.
Today, two years later, I am happier
than I've ever been. And it was just a normal, busy day; I got up,
went to work (at both jobs), and came home to Jerbs and my dogs.
That's probably the best part about being mentally healthy—that the
normal, uneventful, everyday kind of days are happy ones. When I was
sick I hated being alive, hated having to live through every day, but
now I'm truly engaged in my life and myself. It's such a good
feeling.
I've come so far in two years. I got
an amazing full time job, and I've been excelling at it for almost 18
months now. I feel like a lot of my personal growth has come from my
job at MHC, for a lot of reasons. The financial stability has been
great, and has led to a lot less anxiety about money. I've also been
able to start getting my credit on track. Aside from that, I feel
like I've become a lot more confident about myself since I started at
MHC. I've taken on more responsibility there than I ever imagined I
would; some of the things that have been added to my work load are
things that, when I first started, I didn't think I could do or would
want to do. But now, I'm pretty sure I could do anything that was
asked of me at work; I'm very confident in my abilities. And the
confidence that's come from everything I do at MHC is what let me to
be sure I could handle a second job. And let me tell you that having
two jobs makes me feel absolutely amazing.
It's also been a great experience to
work with people who don't know me as being sick. My co-workers like
me, and just think of me as me. And it's been nice to be looked at
like a normal person, to have been able to make friends and just . .
. I don't know, show people who I really am. When you think about
it, my MHC co-workers are the first group of people who have ever met
me without knowing anything about my mental health history. And I'm
definitely not saying that I feel like other people in my life have
been judgmental; I'm just saying that it's kind of nice to have
people in my life who never saw me like that. They make me feel
normal.
I've stopped overreacting to things. I
feel like in the past, things that were pretty small and
insignificant would make me freak out. Like changes in schedules or
the store being out of something I needed or whatever. Those little
things would just make me go ballistic and ruin my whole day. Now,
those things just don't bother me. And even bigger things that
happen don't bother me as much. Like the flat tire on my way to work
last month. Old me would have lost my shit. I'd probably have cried
and screamed and kicked my car. I wouldn't have had the money to pay
for a tow or new tire and I'd have made Jerbs wake up and meet me so
she could take care of it. I probably would have been so upset that
I'd have called in to work because I wouldn't have been able to focus
after freaking out. And then I'd have come home and thrown myself a
huge pity party and thought about all the reasons my life sucked.
But instead, I rolled my eyes, grumbled a little bit (because no one
WANTS to get a flat tire on their way to work on a Monday morning),
and took care of it. I joked with the tow truck driver, passed the
time at the tire shop playing Angry Birds on my phone, and then went
to work. And that was just that. It didn't even remotely ruin my
day.
I've stopped focusing on other people's
lives and letting them effect me. Before I dreaded reading Facebook
statuses because every little thing just . . . I don't know, made me
get all over analytical about my own life. Any time a friend would
get engaged or get married or move or get a job or really succeed in
any way, I'd have an anxiety attack about the fact that I wasn't
succeeding. I felt like a failure and everyone else's successes
just reinforced that over and over again. It got to points where I
wouldn't be able to focus on anything else and would get far too
wrapped up in other people's lives for my own good. Now when I hear
about good things happening to other people on Facebook, I'm just
happy for them. I'm doing well enough in my own life, at this point,
that I can come back to it easily. And even more than that, I want
to come back to it. No matter how well anyone I know is doing, I
like my own life better. I used to dread the future but now I'm
excited about it. I see so much potential in myself and I know I'm
going to accomplish great things.
I've stopped feeling like I need to
define myself and become more OK with all of the parts of my
personality co-existing. Before I felt like I had to pick who I was
and whenever I did anything I wondered about how that fit into this
over arching definition of me. For example, I remember once I got to
thinking that I hadn't done a sewing project in a while. So I
decided I wanted to sew something. And what should have been as easy
as picking a pattern, grabbing some fabric, and setting up my machine
turned into a massive anxiety attack because I just didn't know if I
was the type of person who sewed. Does that make sense? My head
made it a far bigger thing than it was, I guess. I just didn't know
how to reconcile all the things I enjoyed into one personality. It
seems so ridiculous now but it was a very serious issue at the time.
And now I really get that I can be all the things I like and it's all
just part of who I am. I sew, I write, I read, I hike, I work out . .
. and it's all fine. I can do all those things without worrying
about what they mean.
In general, my mind just feels more
mine than it used to. I feel like I didn't used to have a lot of
control over where my thoughts would go and what they would do; it
was to the point that I couldn't really read books or watch TV or
movies because I never knew how they'd effect my thought process. It
sounds crazy but it's true. I was so afraid of the anxiety or
depression or mania or whatever might come up that I just avoided
anything I hadn't read or seen before. And it's silly but I missed
those things, and having them back is a small victory but a victory
nonetheless.
One thing that I haven't talked much
about on here is that I've found my faith since I started this
journey two years ago. I used to be a staunch atheist. And while I
don't think there's anything wrong with that at all, my views in that
area have definitely shifted. I don't know that I'd call myself a
Christian, and I haven't read the Bible, and I don't go to church,
but I do believe in God. I feel like my faith is something I want to
experience on my own terms; I pursue a personal relationship with a
higher power and that's that. I will say that I pray a lot, and that
I feel very blessed. I see God at work every day in my own life.
Like I said, I don't talk about it much, because it's very private.
Right now, I really do love my life.
It's not perfect but it's wonderful, and I'm happy. I love where I
live, I love what I do, and I love who I am. I am aware, every
single day, of how fortunate I am to have gotten where I am from
where I was. And I am thankful, every single day, for everything
that got me there: for God, for my family, for Jerbs, for my ex, and
for my own determination.
It hasn't been an easy journey, but it
has been a beautiful one. As much pain and struggle as there's been,
I don't think I'd change a thing.
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