According to a quote I found (a.k.a. searched for) on Pinterest,
You can’t pour from an empty glass. Take care of yourself first.
What are pouring? Mimosas?
Mental health is an umbrella term that covers a slew of issues ranging from mental disabilities to girl locura and beyond. To break the taboo-ish-ness, I share with you a sample platter of my journey with mental health but be forewarned, if you looking for a hot mess, you won’t find it here. You can read Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things by Jenny Lawson. She’s a hilarious mess. You’re welcome.
At just 19, I lost my sh*t. Losing your shit doesn’t happen over night. Instead, it was a chain of uncontrollable events that spiraled me into depression. Aside from dealing with mierda growing up, I was absolutely miserable in high school with a graduating senior class of 18 students (yes, you read that right), and I couldn’t wait to move on to college. The problem was that I was thrust into the fourth largest university in the United States with class sizes that ranged from 40 to 200 students and no friends in sight. Do you smell the social anxiety brewing? In the midst of this, my first serious boyfriend called it quits over AOL Instant Messenger (AIM). For my youngsters out there, that would be like your boyfriend breaking up with you on Snapchat. I know, WTF, right?
I grieved my failed relationship and I pulled through my first semester, but something was wrong. I couldn’t feel joy or sadness. There was an emptiness that I couldn’t explain. If the situation called for me to smile, I smiled; however, I didn’t feel happy. This is where most cut or mutilate their bodies in order to feel something. Thankfully, I didn’t attempt this; however, I can’t say I wasn’t tempted. Along with feeling like a sociopath, I developed a neurotic habit of repetition. For example, I played Super Mario 3 everyday for hours. I replayed the levels, acquired 99 lives, beat the game, restarted, and continued to replay levels. I was entirely focused on the game, because it was something that would distract me from life. I also refused to eat solid foods, so my diet consisted of soup, mashed potatoes, and chocolate pudding. I couldn’t stand chewing food, and I don’t know why.
I’m sure you’re wondering where the hell my parents where in all of this. Well, I couldn’t really speak with my parents in confidence. My dad was aloof and my mother was also suffering from depression. I would often find her in the living room crying for me and other things that were affecting her. Nevertheless, she mustered up enough strength to get us both help.
I saw a doctor for over a year to help combat social anxiety and reactive depression or stress-response syndrome. Reactive depression is a type of depression that is characterized by the relationship to the event that caused it. This is different from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), which is more severe. Life hurls giant bowling balls at your head but if I couldn’t deal with life at 19, then I sure as hell wasn’t going to deal with it at 30. Who knew that something so “trivial” like a break up or a change of school could cause depression and anxiety? I didn’t! After over a year of weekly sessions, I told my doctor about another break up and she asked how I was feeling. I smiled and said, “I’ll survive.” She returned the smile and said, “I think we are done here.”
Since my last session, I’ve experienced a best friend’s passing, a horrible break up, toxic work environments and more. Nevertheless, I possess the tools to overcome bouts of depression and have also established a healthy outlet for dealing with stress — playing my ukulele.
It’s important to seek help if you are suffering from mental health-related issues and have a support system that will take the necessary steps if or when you cannot.
You can’t make mimosas if you ain’t got no champagne!