Getting Help

I finally did, I checked off my number one new years resolution for 2020 and it’s just the beginning. I finally tool the leap and I reached out to a local counselor for help, I’m getting help. I’ve talked about mental health a lot on this blog so far, but I haven’t really dug deep into what this journey has meant for me thus far. I’ve needed this help for as long as I can remember really. The first time I can remember feeling like something was really “wrong with me” was when I was 12 years old. At 12 was when I felt suicidal for the very first time, and at 12 is when my debilitating depression would begin.

I grew up in a home with a very mentally ill father, and to be honest I didn’t even really know it until recently. I don’t want to get too into that, because its simply not my place to air out all of his dirty laundry on here. Although, I suppose his dirty laundry has become my own as well. When I was a small child my dad was great (from my memory anyway). I was his little buddy, we did everything together. It wasn’t until I got closer to the age of puberty that the mental and emotional abuse started. My dad has been deeply scarred by women in his family, and I have to assume thats where it came from. From a very young age he would be sure to try and put my younger brother and I against each other, and we’ve just started to recover from that recently. My dad still hasn’t got help, but he has proved himself with A. For now I know he loves her, and would never hurt her, but for when she’s older I’m really not sure if that will be the case.

I was never allowed to feel my emotions when I was younger. I remember going in the bath (the only place I could let it all out in private). I would silently scream for God, or whatever higher power there may be to take me. I begged for it to be my time, and nobody knew. I wasn’t allowed to be depressed. I wasn’t allowed to cry, those actions would come with punishment. If I was upset for whatever tweenage reason at the time I was not allowed to show it to my father. If he caught me crying in my room then I was immediately grounded, not allowed to see my friends anymore. I think thats when I developed the habit of isolating myself. To this day whenever I feel the depression coming I go into hibernation mode. I cut myself off from my friends and the other things that make me happy because I have to punish myself the only way I know how. I’ve developed some pretty extreme depression, anxiety and panic attacks as a result of my pubescent years and how I was raised.

For the longest time I held a lot of resentment towards my parents for making me this way. It really wasn’t until I became a parent myself that I realized they really were doing their best, even if their best was absolutely fucked at times. My dad is a seriously mentally ill man, a man who doesn’t know how to help himself, and probably never will. I’ve made a choice for myself and for my family. A choice to be better for me, for my fiance and most importantly, for my daughter. I’m learning that it’s ok to not be ok sometimes. It’s ok to feel my feelings, yes even the bad ones. It’s ok to not be happy all the time. I’m learning to feel those emotions, and most importantly I’m learning how to let them go in a healthy way.

Everyone around me is constantly telling me to stop having negatives thoughts and feelings. While I understand that they’re coming from a good place, trying to help I’ve learned that their words are everything but helpful. I have one friend in particular that wont talk to me about anything if its not sunshine and rainbows, she tells me to go meditate then text her later. For the longest time I’ve felt like a burden to everyone, and maybe I am to them, but from now on I will not let myself feel that way. It’s time for me to take time to work on myself. It’s time to say no to spending time with the people that bring me down. It’s time for me to be alone and find my own inner happiness. I’ve always been the type of person who enjoys surrounding myself with friends, I always thought thats what made me happy. For now I think I need to say goodbye to those old ways, because lately friends are the ones bringing me down more than ever. They are constantly disregarding my struggles to bask in their own happiness, which I understand is their journey and I’m happy for them. I want to be happy for me though, I want to put myself first for once in my life.

Happiness can only be achieved once you accept your true self, and let go of the self you think that you need to be.

I’m nowhere near being “cured” or “fixed”. If anything I’m in one of the worst places I’ve been in my entire life, and thats ok. I’m extremely self aware, and I know the things that I need help with, and the things that I want to change for myself, not because the people around are telling me that I should. I know this journey in therapy will probably be long, maybe even the rest of my life, but I know eventually I’ll be able to look myself in the mirror and say “I’m proud of you B”.

xoxo, B.