I have a vague notion that some of you may already know this about me, but perhaps not. Perhaps, like I do not know this about millions of others, you too are in the dark of a very large and very disruptive part of my life, simply because I choose to keep it relatively hidden. Well, not anymore.
And, no, I’m not writing this for attention. In fact, I did not want to write this post, or explain anything to anyone. But I feel a sort of strange pressure on my heart to share with you this part of my life I normally try to keep quiet about.
Anyway, I’m 23 (just), a senior at a kick-ass university, an English major, an amateur ballerina, and a lover of Yorkie puppies and the color pink. That’s me in a nutshell.
Well, sort of.
Whether or not you knew this statement was coming: I struggle with severe depression, anxiety, and trichotillomania (hair pulling disorder), to the point where it impacts everything about my daily life, my decisions about my future, and the way think about—or overthink about—my past. It’s all very frightening business to wake up one day and not have the energy to lift your little finger (I kid you not), but I am currently doing “okay” right now, if that is even a standard mode of being, or an appropriate term to describe myself when I’m not in the throws of a depressive episode or so anxious that I rip all of the hair out of my head in large chunks.
I tell you I’m okay so that you don’t worry about me, though I know some of you will worry anyway. Like millions of others, I take medication for my mental illness and precisely because of that, coupled with ongoing therapy and self-care, I am able to function at a relatively normal level, and even enjoy the life I have worked so hard to rebuild for myself over the past couple of years. With thyroid hormone, a hefty dose of antidepressants, stimulants, and anti-anxiety medication, I am a productive member of a society, doing well in both life and school and finally able to live up to my potential and go after the career I want in academia (despite the baldness; fuck you, trichotillomania).
Despite being in treatment for a while (medication + therapy), I still struggle from time to time, and I am nowhere near symptom free or in full “recovery.” Recovery for me is symptom management, despite how others tell me my goal should be full remission. Try as I might, I have not yet seen “full remission” in regard to my mental illness, but that’s not to say there’s no hope. There are days when I can’t seem to cope with anything, and I worry I’ve relapsed. There are days when I have panic attacks and migraines to the point where I can’t sleep. There are days when I can’t stop worrying about the smallest of things. There are days that I can’t remember and days that I can’t forget, and days I want more than anything in the world to sink into oblivion or a long pill-induced sleep. But those days are fewer and further than they ever have been in the past.
Academically, I’ve had the best past two semesters of my life, making all As my past two (hardest) semesters at my university. Not only that, but I’ve gotten admitted in my English department’s honors program, travelled abroad, earned a grant for my summer research, earned a spot as an undergraduate humanities fellow, and started writing my senior honors thesis, which I will finish and publish this spring. Socially, I’ve made more good friends that I ever thought possible, and had the confidence to embrace who I am and what I love. It would be wrong to say that I myself have had nothing to do with these positive outcomes that the year of 2015 has brought to me, because a lot of it was hard work on my behalf combined with constantly pushing myself to love deeper and to care more about everything and everyone around me. I would venture to say, however, that the biggest reason behind my recent onslaught of successes over the past year has little or nothing to do with circumstance and everything to do with the fact I’ve been appropriately and adequately medicated to control my mental illness.
What I want people to take away from all of this is that mental illness can be affected by environment and even be partially situational, but for me and many others, it’s not. My struggles with mental illness are somewhat more independent of the waxing and waning of life’s challenges, including my dad’s motor neuron disease, which leads to me further reiterate the importance of taking medication if you find you need it and talking about mental illness, spreading the word, and letting others know that it’s okay not to be okay, and that’s it’s okay to take medication for any medical problems you might have. I like to think of myself as medicated and mighty. Let’s cut the bullshit that shouldn’t “need” a pill to function everyday. Some people do and sometimes there isn’t a good reason.
In other news, I’m wearing colorful wigs until my hair grows back in. If I’m going to be bald, I figured I might as well have fun with it, no?
Nothing like colorful hair, confidence, and some good friends (thanks, guys!) to help #StoptheStigma against mental illness :).
(I feel the need to mention that this is not a post meant for medical advice on medication for mental illness–that is a conversation you need to have with your doctor. Thanks!)
Thank you guys for all of the notes! It makes me happy to know that people are interested in the conversation about mental illness. I do have a few updates since I first posted this piece last winter:
1.) I don’t talk about my eating disorder here, but that is one thing I’m still struggling with these days.
2.) I’ve been in many different forms of intensive treatment over the past few months -and I may be going back.
3.) I’ve changed medications since this post, but all the same stuff still applies.
4.) I HAVE MY REAL HAIR NOW! YAY!
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Love you all and thank you again for supporting each other and the important topic of mental illness. Hope all is well.
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