I recently got a request to post something (how about anything?) lighthearted on the blog and while I agree that it would be nice to post something less heavy than my norm, it's gonna have to wait.
This time of year can be extremely difficult for many. In fact, I think this time of year is difficult for most to some degree but society tells us that we're supposed to walk around like we're lit on eggnog all the time, and so we perform. We shove the stress and anxiety and depression and inconvenient thoughts down, down, down. I get it. I am so good at that game. Which is why before I post something lighthearted, I need to post something that could potentially save someone's life.
A little over a year ago I was beginning to spiral. I've written about my struggle with mental health in many of my previous posts so I won't do it again here, but for those who are new to the blog you can read about my sexual assault and PTSD here, here, here, and here. Yeah, I talk about it a lot because it needs to be talked about.
You wouldn't think so, but it's actually easy to recall the details of what it was like during the worst of the worst. It's easy because I can't imagine that I'll ever be able to forget those days. They are extremely vivid memories. But what I haven't talked a lot about is how I got to that really bad place.
It was happening slowly but it happened before I knew it. I began to withdraw. I would cancel on friends. Shut myself in my bedroom. Self-medicate with sleeping pills. Essentially, I wanted to "not be." I didn't want to feel. If someone would have asked me if I was suicidal, I would have answered emphatically, "no." And I truly wasn't. But I was also desperate to not feel anything anymore. To make matters worse, I was really good at hiding all of this. The "I'm too busy" or "it's too cold out" texts were frequent and the "I don't want to talk about it" reply was automatic anytime someone tried to care. By the time I realized what was happening and reached out for professional help, I was already pretty far gone. I had no idea just how bad it was about to get over the following months.
It scares me to think of what could have happened if I hadn't reached out for help. I'm not telling you my experience with individual and group therapy was easy, if you've read my posts you know I fought hard to get here. But it could have been worse. And I could have found myself in a hole so deep I might not have been able to get out.
Let me be clear, what we're talking about here isn't some holiday sadness that Hallmark movies tell you can be cured with a puppy and a fiance (side note, I fucking hate those movies). The desperation one feels around this time of year is something that is preexisting and it is only amplified by the holiday pressure to be social, act happy, and show your love by spending thousands of dollars. In my case, I was already feeling the symptoms of my PTSD when the holidays came around.
If you are in pain now, please know that you are not alone. You are surrounded by people who are hurting just like you and you have nothing to be ashamed of. There is nothing wrong with you. You are not abnormal.
You are brave for getting out of bed every morning. You are brave for fixing that smile on your face before you walk out the door. You are brave for making it through another day. I know it doesn't feel that way. I know you feel weak and unworthy. I know. But I promise you - I can tell you from experience - it. gets. better.
I implore you - if you are desperate to not feel, especially if you are desperate enough to take your life, please reach out for help. You can cry. You can talk. You can get answers and most importantly, you can get help.
You are needed here. You are wanted here. You are loved here.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1 800-273-8255
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