Sometimes I think it's odd that people I see, talk too, work with, have no clue what goes on inside my head; my illness. It's not always physically noticeable, but it's most certainly there. I have clinical anxiety/panic disorder and major depressive disorder.
About 7 months ago my grandmother underwent a major surgery, which resulted in my first panic attack. My grandmother is now fine, as much as someone her age can be, but my anxiety continued and progressively got worse. I'm not sure if it would have resulted eventually anyway or if the stress of the surgery was a trigger, but from that point forward it's been part of my life. Not only did I start having anxiety, but depression too. They hit me like a brick wall and neither me nor my mom knew how to proceed. We started out just seeing if I could suck it up and wait for it to pass. When it didn't pass, and got worse, I told her I needed something to change because I could not live like this. We started me on medication and it seemed to help for a little bit, but then it didn't, so we would try a different one. We went on like this for a while and then decided to try therapy, also. That mixture is currently what I'm doing and it's a process.
If you have never had a panic attack before, it's very hard to describe. I have day-to-day anxiety, which can be debilitating sometimes too, but panic attacks are on whole different level (more like a different planet lol). The experience really varies from attack to attack. Some are just a result of anxiety built up and built up until I have a panic attack, but other times it is clear out of the blue and overwhelming. The ones with no rhyme or reason are what the panic disorder is; those are the most common for me. I could be sitting and watching TV when, boom, it hits me. I start crying uncontrollably, and not as in boo-hoo crying, this is hyperventilating sobbing. I also usually start shaking my hands, in the way you would when you are shaking off water after washing them. It feels like something is very, very, very wrong but with no idea what it is, along with my chest feeling like it's collapsing. It's terrifying and inconsolable.
Depression also isn't just the stereotypical, "I'm sad". Sure, I'm sad, but for no reason what-so-ever. I want to cry when everything could be going perfect in my life. If you ae thinking, "Oh, well just think of all the great things in your life and cheer up!"; if only that's what I could do. This isn't sadness, it's depression. For example, I know when something should make me happy but it's like there is this fog of depression over it that I just can't clear. On the bad days of it, I can't even get out of bed and every once in a while I'll fall into this deep, dark pit. When I nose-dive like that the only thing I can compare it to is having a panic attack, with the crying and freaking out, but different. It is an all consuming despair and feels like my insides are physically decaying. It's that feeling when you find out someone you love has died, yet nothing of that sort has happened.
Living with mental illness is rough. Not only fighting the battle, but doing it in silence. If you see someone with a broken leg you are gong to be a little kinder to them, maybe even assist them; with mental illness it's difficult when you are having a bad depression day because it isn't externally visible and no one knows to act accordingly. It is as real as a broken leg. When I say in silence I don't only mean my previous example, I'm also talking about the stigma surrounding mental illness and how it is all hush-hush. It shouldn't be embarrassing, we aren't "crazy", and neither is it for attention. The stigma is simply incorrect. Mental illness is explained in the name, an illness. Living with is it hard, it's a process, but it's achievable. I'm trying my best everyday, and if that that means sleeping the whole day away or having crying fits occasionally, so be it. I'm getting help and that's all I can do.
About 7 months ago my grandmother underwent a major surgery, which resulted in my first panic attack. My grandmother is now fine, as much as someone her age can be, but my anxiety continued and progressively got worse. I'm not sure if it would have resulted eventually anyway or if the stress of the surgery was a trigger, but from that point forward it's been part of my life. Not only did I start having anxiety, but depression too. They hit me like a brick wall and neither me nor my mom knew how to proceed. We started out just seeing if I could suck it up and wait for it to pass. When it didn't pass, and got worse, I told her I needed something to change because I could not live like this. We started me on medication and it seemed to help for a little bit, but then it didn't, so we would try a different one. We went on like this for a while and then decided to try therapy, also. That mixture is currently what I'm doing and it's a process.
If you have never had a panic attack before, it's very hard to describe. I have day-to-day anxiety, which can be debilitating sometimes too, but panic attacks are on whole different level (more like a different planet lol). The experience really varies from attack to attack. Some are just a result of anxiety built up and built up until I have a panic attack, but other times it is clear out of the blue and overwhelming. The ones with no rhyme or reason are what the panic disorder is; those are the most common for me. I could be sitting and watching TV when, boom, it hits me. I start crying uncontrollably, and not as in boo-hoo crying, this is hyperventilating sobbing. I also usually start shaking my hands, in the way you would when you are shaking off water after washing them. It feels like something is very, very, very wrong but with no idea what it is, along with my chest feeling like it's collapsing. It's terrifying and inconsolable.
Depression also isn't just the stereotypical, "I'm sad". Sure, I'm sad, but for no reason what-so-ever. I want to cry when everything could be going perfect in my life. If you ae thinking, "Oh, well just think of all the great things in your life and cheer up!"; if only that's what I could do. This isn't sadness, it's depression. For example, I know when something should make me happy but it's like there is this fog of depression over it that I just can't clear. On the bad days of it, I can't even get out of bed and every once in a while I'll fall into this deep, dark pit. When I nose-dive like that the only thing I can compare it to is having a panic attack, with the crying and freaking out, but different. It is an all consuming despair and feels like my insides are physically decaying. It's that feeling when you find out someone you love has died, yet nothing of that sort has happened.
Living with mental illness is rough. Not only fighting the battle, but doing it in silence. If you see someone with a broken leg you are gong to be a little kinder to them, maybe even assist them; with mental illness it's difficult when you are having a bad depression day because it isn't externally visible and no one knows to act accordingly. It is as real as a broken leg. When I say in silence I don't only mean my previous example, I'm also talking about the stigma surrounding mental illness and how it is all hush-hush. It shouldn't be embarrassing, we aren't "crazy", and neither is it for attention. The stigma is simply incorrect. Mental illness is explained in the name, an illness. Living with is it hard, it's a process, but it's achievable. I'm trying my best everyday, and if that that means sleeping the whole day away or having crying fits occasionally, so be it. I'm getting help and that's all I can do.
Thus is really good.
ReplyDelete<3
Delete