It's been a while since I've written anything. I've graduated, had unexpected renovations because our dishwasher broke and left an inch of standing water downstairs, earned a promotion, and generally started losing it again. This is hardly my first time struggling with my mental health, and now I know what to call it.
It's my Scary-Go-Round. (yes, cringe-worthy for the use of an amusement park ride as analogy for mental illness, but bear with me...)
While thinking in the shower, I realized how frustrating it is to be going through the ups and downs of battling myself yet again. The pain and apathy start, and I know it will be some time before it goes away for good. Right now, it's not every hour of every day. And it's not to the point that I pose a threat to myself.
But it is often enough that it's taking away from my quality of life. I'm not running, because it seems useless when I have to start back over with every break due to a cold or rainy weather. I struggle to parent without yelling, because there aren't enough emotional reserves to let me be patient when Brianna is being a normal four-year-old. I'm not performing well at work, because I just want to hide away from my responsibilities instead of focusing and getting stuff DONE.
I don't know if all of this is seasonal, with the days getting shorter and having fewer chances to enjoy being outside. Or maybe it's just that this promotion is more than I can handle. (That possibility scares me quite a bit, because if it's true, then it feels like a lot of work to have finished grad school only to hit a wall professionally.) It could also be my Mirena messing with my hormones. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that PCOS and funky hormones made me depressed.
The first time I really struggled with depression, I was in high school, and failing nearly every class because the pain would anchor me at home, and I didn't have the energy to keep myself going in and feeling like a shadow of myself at school. A few months later, I was diagnosed with PCOS, and life was a lot easier. The effects of my performance at school ended up being life altering, though ultimately in a good way. I was no longer the Honor Roll, all AP classes, full scholarship type student that could go anywhere I wanted. I was only accepted to one college as a senior, but I'm glad to have been there because I met my best friend, who happens to be my doppelganger from across the country. It doesn't take away the frustration I felt at the time, knowing that my plans were all going to shit, but now I can look back and know not everything is lost because I have mental illness.
And this time, that Scary-Go-Round won't be a surprise. I can hear the music in the distance and start setting myself for self-care and getting help. I know that I don't have to choose the majestic horse that looks good from the outside but also gives the worst of the highs and lows -- keeping everything on my plate so that I still look "normal" from the outside doesn't help me get better. Now I can choose to keep life simple and not worry about what people see of me as I ride it out on the calm seat, if that's what it takes to get better. And I don't have to be alone, away from people who can help keep the ride from going too fast or too bumpy. I can ask for a break so I can keep myself even-keeled. And I can start working with a therapist right away instead of waiting until I'm desperate.
I have a therapy appointment scheduled for next Tuesday. I'm nervous, because I've been thinking about all the identities that make up me, and how they play into my life. It's enough to fill up that first session without even getting into the problems I need to address, let alone get a feel for whether we're a good fit. For now, I just have to wait and see, hope that it works out, and speak up if things get worse before they get better.
