Many years ago-- a lifetime ago or maybe just another life-- I used to be vibrant and strong. I was nicknamed smiley. I felt like I could do anything I set my mind to do.
Anxiety and depression runs in my family (on my mom's side) and I thought I didn't have the gene marker. I didn't have social anxiety and I was always happy and positive.
My mom reminded me that I had had depression-like moments prior to 2014 but I think the stress of my first internship (fieldwork experience, halfway through my graduate program) in fall that year was when I realized I had the gene. I eventually decided in the middle of my internship that I just couldn't anymore. I needed a mental vacation so I institutionalized myself and was there for about a week. Life through more punches my way days following my discharge-- great grandfather was on life support and died, during his viewing I received a text from my landlord/ roommate that I needed to move out by end of the month (October) (which was days a way) and I knew legally I needed a 30 day notice but at the same time I didn't want to be somewhere I wasn't welcomed, and my sister was getting married on November 1st and I was the maid of honor (I was actually proud giving a speech). Just a lot to undertake. But the following months I was proud of my ability to ween myself off the medications I was given in the hospital (just seems to be their process-- medicate) and being there I realized our health system especially our mental health care needed improvements.
And I really thought I could make changes. And I was determined that I had to experience this to learn my path. I've been an occupational therapist since summer of 2016. I've been averaging about a year these past two years with jobs but it's been hard staying motivated and happy. I don't know if I can handle the stress. I question my decisions basically every day, often multiple times a day.
Saturday, I finally got my hair done for a little pick me up. And I found myself in the chair teary-eyed.. a few tears found their way down my face while the stylist stepped out of the suite. I was sad because I don't feel amazing anymore. Like I don't think people like me.
For about two years I had thought some physical relief would help... like cutting. But I could never actually do it. I can apply pressure with a tool but couldn't actually inflict harm to myself. Last fall I succeeded with scissors on my leg... and in some way it was soothing. But the next day, seeing it made me sad and a bit scared. Lately I've been wanting to again... I just get really low and I don't know. I found someone to hang out with and by the time I we were hanging out the crying stop. And yesterday I was anxious all day but managed now to cry. And this morning I can't stop crying. And need to go to work... somehow.