Today was the first time I felt like my mental health was preparing to skyrocket.
That might be a little bit optimistic since so many factors go into mental health. Both things are and are not in my control capabilities.
I spent last night curled up reading the book I borrowed from our local library (I’m reading The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix) way later than I should have been, woke up several times, and got up for the day when my husband was leaving for work at 5:30 this morning.
If that exhaustion wasn’t enough to make my mood a little sour, I dealt with insecurities with my husband. Something that I blew entirely out of proportion but that fear of being abandoned took over my thought process. Plus, he lost his wallet, again.
I have been hurt and left by every single person that has entered my life in one way or another. The only exception to this are my three daughters and there will be a day when they will spread their wings and leave the nest that I have spent the moment I conceived them creating.
And all of a sudden we are talking about birds because I guess that’s what I’m thinking about.
Anyways, after my meltdown happened and I realized that neither I nor my relationship is in danger and wiped the tears from my cheeks – I realized that enough was enough.
I have been in a deep depression since 2018. I have always suffered from a mental illness. Maybe it was all of the horrible stuff that I have been through or maybe it’s the misery that has been hiding in my blood for generations before me. So, coming up against it again was no surprise to me.
It still feels just as scary, lonely, and painful as it did ever since I could remember. The days I was afraid of getting out of bed. The days I would fake being sick so I didn’t have to face things at school. The days I would stay in horrible friendships and relationships because my loyalty was blind. The days I was afraid to die but I was in so much emotional pain that it hurt to exist.
Those days have become having nightmares of people that used to mean the world to me and waking up in tears and sweat or having severe nightmares that I wake up in a panic, and that dread of anticipation before going to sleep.
Those days have become me being too afraid to open the windows, step outside, or leave in the car. There are moments where I just cry thinking about it. Even on my medication, which feel like they are starting to not work, I still struggle with normal functions. I know I should be doing so many things like going to see my doctor about my meds or trying therapy again but I’m just too afraid.
I don’t say these sorts of things for pity or to stretch the truth. These things feel like my truth and these past few years have been even worse.
I have been so uncomfortable being in this apartment that is definitely not safe for us to live in but our landlord is so dismissive that we haven’t even been able to pay our rent yet, even though it has been ready and we have been contacting him since it was due. It’s been exhausting. I’m fighting to stay in a place that hasn’t felt like home since we moved in.
Today is really the first day that I have sat with these thoughts instead of continuously shoving them under the rug. There is only so much stuff you can put until you start tripping over it. There is only so many times you can ignore something until you cannot stop glancing over at it. There is only so much running you can do until these thoughts and feelings catch up to you.
It’s the first day I not only said “it’s time I have to start getting my life together” or “I have to do all of these things and THEN I can start the journey” and I just… I started with baby steps. I’m tired of the mess, the clutter, the guilt, and the shame I feel just for not having the energy to clean.
It started with looking on the bookshelf to help my husband find his wallet – not there.
Then little by little I would clean the floors and vacuum the sections that were cleared.
I even ripped apart the couch cushions and vacuumed that clean – something I had been dreading.
I cleaned, vacuumed, and rearranged the kids’ room. I remembered to take my night medication. I picked up the living room.
These are nothing for the “normal” person. But for me, for me, it feels different.
It just made me feel hopeful for the first time.
Maybe I can actually get my life together.
Maybe it’s the first real step until I work on scarier tasks like overcoming my phobias.
But for now, I’m just happy that I’m washing away, even if it’s only a little bit, away from rock bottom.
Oh, and I found his wallet!
That’s it for me.
Thank you so much for being here, being you, and spending time with me.