courage; strength in the face of fear (freudcomplex) wrote,

personal post

recovery
triggering warning: mention of mental disorders


as a survivor of depression i think speaking out is important. there is a lot of stigma surrounding mental disorders. no one should ever feel ashamed of going through depression, anxiety, psychosis or any other mental disorders. it's a medical condition just like any other. it's not something you go looking for.

it just hits you, sucks you in and you don't know how it happen. it happened to me.



i was a relatively quite kid who moved from school to school. my only real friends were my sibling and my cousin. my parents owned a business. to the world i was a happy kid. but i hoarded secrets.

i was never real comfortable with myself. it didn't help that my skin was deteriorating. there was nothing else i hated the most than wearing short sleeves. my mom would take me from doctor to doctor. i would be prescribed one medication to another and nothing ever seemed to work. it was to the point that i started to take steroids orally to help the swelling. i scratched hard to the point of punctuating skin and bleeding. not until years later did i found the right doctor. my self esteem suffered severely. on top of that, i had a speech impediment. i hated talking in front of people. i went through speech therapy until i was in seventh grade. till this day i have a complex. i was always called weird. my race was always made fun of. as a first generation in the united states it was hard. my parents raised me differently than my classmates were being raised. my parents would work twelve hours seven days a weeks. they gave us everything but it didn't compensated for not being there for us. my parents fought, called us names and no one got along. my dad would drink. i was the one consoling my mom at nights. all i learned was to be abusive. i didn't take on others. i took it upon myself to punish myself. in my head everything was my fault in some way or another. i would isolate, scratch and sleep. it started to reflect on my grades, my skin and my reluctance to live. one day i stopped going to school, take showers, brush my teeth, eat or even drink water. i barely spoke about anything to anyone. i was bottling my anger. it turned to resentment. i was pissed off with the world. i wanted to die. one day i filled the bathtub with water. i sank my head under water for two seconds. my brother knocked on the door and so i decided to get out. that day i was hospitalize. with therapy, medication, some self realization and support i was recovering. it's easier said than done. it's not an easy road. i hit some bumps in the form of anxiety attacks, more suicidal ideation, purging, using laxatives and finally relapsing. i don't think anyone in the road to recovery ever said that it was an easy ride nor that they were not scared of the future. if so, they were lying to themselves. the fear of relapsing is always there but sometimes you have to face your fears and chase your dreams. i learned that goals are vital. goals motivated you when you are left with nothing else. one day you got to realize that it's so much harder to continue down self destruction lane, even though it became your comfort zone. you are not your diagnoses. you ARE strong because going through this requires an enormous amount of strength. you WILL make it as long as you want it. and if you don't want it, find the simplest thing and roll with it. it becomes easier. trust me.

stay strong.

- b
Tags: personal post
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