I woke up today at 1pm with a full face of makeup from the day before. My room was stuffy from the heater and my closed door, the way it gets whenever I oversleep, and a shred of bright light blinded me as I tried to reorient myself. The first thought that passed my mind this afternoon was the fact that I was awake, and I hated being awake. I didn’t want to deal with my life, this day, or any of the tasks waiting to be checked off my list of things before the semester ends. I was angry the moment I woke up, not at the world per se, but at myself. I was angry that I was conscious, alive and breathing.
Today was the first day I realized I needed to seek psychiatric help again. For almost twenty minutes I sat in my bed, blankly staring at a wall, trying to figure out where I’m at in my timeline of development. That in itself is messy to think about, because linearizing my progress doesn’t shed light on my changing conditions. When I was first hospitalized, I was still in high school. I wasn’t dealing with bills or college courses, I was dealing with graduation, clinging to my 3.8 GPA that was withering away from burning myself out. I was dealing with myself, and what I saw as successful: attending a UC, getting a good degree, getting paid for grad school, excelling in my field. Recovery in that space required a full shift of headspace and unlearning, something I’m not particularly dealing with now.
My depression is deeper than this and is dealing with the roots of my problems. I’ve left my trauma unattended, and haven’t been dealing with it has relationships and circumstances shift in and out of my life. I’m again, weighting my success on the amount of things I fulfill and do, opposed to what’s making me feel whole. I don’t know what circumstance I’m in, or what the root is. I don’t really have words to explain what I’m even fighting against, which is why I need to seek psychiatric help. I need to be making concrete steps and actions to deal with this issue.
I also don’t have to be entirely strong. I’m going to slip up, even though I know better. I’m going to sabotage myself sometimes, only consuming coffee and cigarettes instead of actual meals. Understanding this process is messy is also something I need to get comfortable with. But also understanding that this process isn’t isolative is part of it all in the long run.
I don’t have all the answers, and that’s okay. I’m taking the time I need to grow and help myself and that’s all that matters.