A friend once told me that she was willing to help me get through my anxiety and depression as she got through hers, but she could only help me if I truly wanted help. I felt offended. Why wouldn’t I want help? Being too anxious to leave my room wasn’t fun. Feeling too depressed to do homework wasn’t fun. How dare she assume that I didn’t want help? But then I thought it over. It’s so easy to just be complacent and stay where you are. Sure, I was struggling, but I felt like there was no way out. I felt like I was stuck. Most importantly, I felt like if I didn’t have anxiety and depression, I wouldn’t be me anymore. My personality felt embedded in the mood swings and self destructive behavior. I felt like I was my mental illness. After some time, I started taking mood stabilizers (which took some destigmatization), and it felt unnatural. I had been struggling with extreme moods so long, I forgot what a healthy dose of emotions was. I was still anxious, but I could leave my room. I was still sad, but I wouldn’t sleep 15 hours a day and miss class and assignments. I didn’t have spurts of uncontrollable energy. I was… Normal.
I have an appointment with a new therapist for Monday. I’m anxious, but in a healthy way. I’m looking forward to going (and actually being able to leave my room). And going to therapy regularly will take some budgeting, but I finally feel like I’m worth it.