I Wish

 

 I wish so much that I would stop feeling like this. Like it's the end of the world. Like I have no control over tomorrow. And stop wanting to control tomorrow.

I see people going on by their lives, so peaceful and at ease, seeming like they have no care in the world, nothing to worry about. And I look at them and think how nice it might be. For a second I want to be that way. Then I think of all the things that I dream of, and everything that I want to accomplish, and I want that. I want that trill and that emotion. That amazing feeling when you're doing what you love and you're succeeding. That smile when everything goes well and you feel one step closer to making your dream come true. I love that feeling.

If I could just shake this anxiety and fear. Wouldn't that be nice? To actually live every day without having those feelings like you're running out of air? Without worrying that you might have to give up your dream. That you will live unhappy, doing every day something that you don't like, just because you had to chose something else. That fear that you might choose or chase the wrong thing. What if you're struggling so much and in the end you realize that didn't happen, or it wasn't your road? 

But how could you possibly want something so much and feel it in every cell in you, and not be right? Not be the thing that you've been searching for and dreaming of all your life? How could you feel like every step you took was there to prepare you for this, but turn out to not be this?

That's just cruel. To feel it so deep in you, and not be what you're supposed to do ... that's just cruel. Fighting so much to get there ...

Patience. You need to have patience. This is something that I need to learn how to do. Every day is a struggle to keep the patience and the faith that all you feel in you, is because you were supposed to really do that, have that career, end up in that position, reach that point. 

I am thinking of my career, but it could be about anything in someone's life. 

It requires the same amount of energy to doubt, as well as to believe. So, choose to believe. - I have seen this so many times written in posts on social media, and I know it is right. This is like: why think it might go wrong? think it might go right. Isn't that beautiful? That hope feeling. That calmness and peace that you feel surrounding your heart when you start believing that it could be possible, it could come true. You could be the success story. 

I feel like I can breath. And I feel my veins fill up with even more hope, and happiness, and power, and an "I can" thought and feeling. I can. I can continue the fight. I can continue the hope. I can continue to do my work. Cause, in the end, this is all that I can do, my work. I just have to wake up every day and do my work, and believe that each step that I take will get me closer to seeing my dream come true. 

All I can do is my work. All I can do. The rest will come. Do you work well, be the best that you can be, try to improve yourself every day and take one step forward every day through the things you have set for that day, and the recognition, the fame, the money, the living high and well, all that will come. Because the people who are good at their job, always doing their best, they always end up having the best rewards in life. Because the people who need to see you, they will. Be present, be there, and do your work, and you will make it.

Photo credit: Couleur from Pixabay

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Seeing a Psychiatrist & The Road Back

 

I have gotten to a point where I ended up in the psychiatrist's office, almost begging for a save. I reminisced all that happened to me, and, as I was saying it, I was telling myself  "no wonder I'm close to being locked up; I'm actually amazed I made it this far, and I'm still standing". 

My childhood, my parent's divorce, the lost of a child of someone really close to me, the death of a close relative that I did not get the chance to say good bye to, my professional failures, the marriage that was falling apart, and so many others. How am I still standing? How am I still lucid enough to admit that there is a problem, and ask for help. 

"I've been through this before. These feeling I have. I know how it ended. And this time I am afraid there won't be anyone there to help me, like the last time." - I was telling the psychiatrist. "I need help". 

She looked at me and gave me pills. The fear of my life. The pills. I was looking at the prescription not knowing what to do.

- "Is there anything wrong?" - she asks.

- "If you would have asked me a couple of weeks ago, I would have said I want the pill so bad, because I know I need help, and I can't do it on my own anymore. But now .... "

- "Now you don't want it anymore?"

- "I don't know." - I say. And I really had no idea. There was something holding me. 

- "This is just supposed to get serotonin to your brain, because he can't do it on his own, and we need to train him how to do it again. And the other one is just a support for the anti-depressive."

She looks at me and see's that I am still not convinced.

- "Don't you want to get better? Why would you want to suffer when you could take a pill and feel better?"

She was making sense. Why was I so afraid? Maybe because I've heard they are addictive. And I told her. They're not, she replied. "I can't help you if you don't want to be helped". And, again, it was making sense. 

I wanted to be better. I wanted for all the thoughts to stop, and the pain to go away. I wanted to be the normal me again. I went home and bought the pills. I waited for three days, then decided to take them. I actually had three really good days prior to starting. I was thinking that now I have something to help me, and all I have to do is take a pill and be happy, and feel like I could breath again. So I did. 

The first day I felt so good it was unbelievable. I was laughing like I haven't done it in a long time. Everything was different around me. I wasn't feeling like the end of the world anymore. I wasn't feeling like the weight of the world was on my shoulders and I couldn't hold it anymore. I was having different thoughts. Happy thought. Encouragement thoughts. Things were possible again. I didn't had to figure out the future right then and there anymore, I could just live the moment, and see what came. Deal with it then. 

I was happy I decided to take the pill. "I am so glad I did", I thought to myself. 

The next day started really good as well. "I really like this. I can do things like before. Working and concentrating. I love this." 

I went for a walk in the evening and I started feeling tired. "Oh, even my sleep pattern will get back to normal. I like it." I was saying it again to myself. My mood started to change. As time went by, I was getting more and more restless. My heart was beating faster, my mind was going faster, it was like I was in a scary movie, when the main character is being followed, and she feels someone is watching, but she can't see who it is, and if she's really being followed. I was in the house and obviously there was no one there. I just thought I was tired, and I needed to sleep. Which I did. 

The next day was worst. I still took the pill, because she said the only side effects will be dizziness, nausea, things like this, because my brain was adjusting to a higher level of serotonin. So I thought nothing of my symptoms. And I did not want to read the leaflet because I did not want anything to influence me. 

I made it through that day. I hoped it all ended, and which ever was the reason I was feeling that way, it passed. The next day, after that, it was the worst so far. I was having panic attacks, I couldn't bread, I was feeling sick, I had anxiety attacks, I was switching moods from calm and at peace, and smiling for feeling so good, to being nervous and frustrated, and angry, and hating everybody. I was having so many bad thought that I can't even explain it. I practically had all the symptoms that the pill was supposed to make it stop. 

I went back to the doctor and her reply was "You've induced these on yourself. Because you didn't wanted to take the pills."

How could I ever? Ever? 

I was so amazed.

- "I wasn't expecting this. You said nausea, headache, dizziness ... not all the symptoms I was trying to escape." 

- "Well, you will have the anxiety and panic attacks and all, until the pill settles and the brain gets used to it. It's just for a few days". - she said.

The only problem? By the time our time was getting close to the end, the "few days" turned into "two weeks".

- "I can't do two weeks of this" - I said. "Two weeks will end me."

-"Don't you want to feel better?"

This question was really getting on my nerves. 

- "Yes! Feel better. Not worst!"

She changed the medication and told me to come back in two weeks. "These are better. They won't have the same side effects like the other one".

Then why didn't you give me those in the first place??? - this is what I wanted to scream out. But I didn't. Because I thought that maybe they're not necessarily better than the other ones, or different. Maybe they just have a different name, since they have the same substance, and they are supposed to do the same thing. 

I left. And all I could hear of one of my friend's voice in my head telling me about how she came back from it. She remembered how she lost a friend over it, and that image made her decide then and there that she will pull herself out every day, just to avoid getting there. I doubted her technique then and thought that maybe her depression wasn't that bad - something I've regretted instantly; but when you are in a bad place, you don't believe anyone could possible get themselves out on their own. How could you, right? 

I started to remember everything everyone told me along the lats years that I was battling depression. How words matter, how important it is what you tell yourself, how impactful can be if you say that you are happy, that you are ok, and you try to smile even if you don't feel like it. Your brain doesn't tell the difference between what is real and what is fake, so you can tell him whatever you want him to believe. 

So there started my work. Every day. Every minute. Every situation. Every thought. ... I just had to make sure that it was a good one. Push away the ones that I didn't wanted, and only allowed the ones that I did. 

It's not easy. It's a constant battle. I have moments when I need to fight so hard, and I still lose sometimes. But I have to keep going. I have to keep fighting, because the pill ... that's not an option for me. Not in my condition. 

This is not a plea for or against seeing a psychiatrist, or taking the prescription they might give. This is just my story. It is what happened to me. Everyone's story might be different. There are no two people who react in the exact same way to the same stimulus. 

If anything, take this from this story: as soon as you feel like you can't do it on your own anymore, ASK for help. And choose what you feel it is best for you. Your mental health is incredibly important, so take care of it in any way you can.

Photo credit: blizniak from Pixabay

If this helped you in any way, you can donate a little something to help me keep going. No amount is too small, but it is deeply appreciated. Thank you :)

 Donations : PayPal