My Mental Health Journey 2019
I’ve been wanting to make this post for a little while. Ever since the passing of Bubby in June, my mental health has been on a steady decline. Here’s a little bit of what’s been going on since then.
June was a very hard month on my head. I knew that Bub was sick, but I just never really had the thought that he was going to die. I couldn’t grasp losing my best friend and the main source of comfort during my years with chronic pain. As I finished the time with my psychiatrist in March, I had no real source of professional help to go to. I had seen my family doctor twice in June to talk about him, but it didn’t hold the benefits of an actual session with a psychiatrist or therapist.
My depression and anxiety were at an all-time high. I would have panic attacks every night because my thoughts would focus on the fact that I no longer had Bubby. They would then spiral, and leave me in a cloud of depression all night. That’s when I started taking Ativan nightly in order to fall asleep without the panic attacks and spiraling thoughts.
As June went by with daily panic attacks, a social event on the last day of June would be the start to a whole other chapter of my life. Without going into detail, I went to a social event with my then-boyfriend which would end in me having to Uber home due to a panic attack where I hid in the bathroom for about 20 minutes.
The next day, I was broken up with. Something that, If I’m being honest, should have happened a lot sooner, but still took me by complete surprise at the time. This triggered a whole new spiral of thoughts and landed me in the hospital that night.
I’ve always dealt with mild suicidal thoughts. Thoughts that would come and go, no action needed, and little cause for concern. Ever since becoming chronically ill, my depression and my suicidal thoughts have been different. It’s when I realized I needed professional help, and I could no longer handle it on my own anymore.
So that night, I ended up needing to go to the Emergency Room, because I was honestly scared of what my thoughts were telling me to do. I had self-harmed a little bit and didn’t want anything worse to happen to me. I was driven by my Ex at 3 in the morning to the Emergency room, extremely scared if doctors would even believe my concern.
A weird time for a pleasant surprise, but every doctor and nurse I spoke to took me seriously and just wanted to help me. It had turned out that I just missed the crisis worker, and would have to wait until at least 8 am to see one. Running on no sleep, I waited until 10 am to speak to the crisis worker.
She was wonderful in the way she spoke to me, cleared me of having to be admitted, and signed me up for appointments with both a therapist and a psychiatrist there at the hospital. I see a therapist every 2 weeks, and a psychiatrist every month or so. Right now with the therapist, I’m mostly working on my social anxiety and what I can do to help myself get further along in that process.
Shortly after, I got my kitty Cora, and then very surprisingly met someone else. Believe me when I say I wasn’t looking, but sometimes life just has a way of sending you surprises when you least expect them.
Right now things are looking up for me, getting professional help, having a cat, and having someone in my life to help support me and treat me how I deserve to be treated. It’s been a long, rollercoaster of a summer this year, but as summer starts to wrap up, I finally feel a bit more stable. I’m ready to move on to the next chapter of my life, the chapter after Bubby.