Sunday, November 18, 2012

The Things I Don't Say...

Today's post is incredibly hard to write. But it needs to be written. If you're looking for upbeat, or crafty or DIY - today's post isn't for you. I'll be OK if you decide to pass on it. I'll even understand if, after you choose to read it, you'd rather not read my blog anymore. Trust me when I say that I've gotten similar reactions in the real world.

I'm mentally ill.

I don't even know how to sugar coat that to make it sound funny or intriguing. 

I have something called Generalized Anxiety Disorder. And I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I never tell people that. Ever. But after the weekend I had, I felt like I had to. 

I spent Saturday night in the Emergency Room of our local hospital because I couldn't stop sobbing and having a meltdown after something happened that even the "normal" people in my life found gross. 

I am deathly afraid of germs and contamination. I am afraid of change. I am afraid of just about everything. While the anxiety comes and goes and the OCD ebbs and flows, it has steadily been ramping up with no end in sight. Saturday night, I could no longer control my worries and fears. Months of steadily increasing fear were finally triggered enough and I lost every grip on control that I had. 

At the urging of my husband (and even my own admission), I agreed to go to the hospital and finally allow myself to be put on medication.

There are days when I can't handle the day to day tasks of life. There are days when I worry so much I can't put one foot in front of the other. There are times when I can't move. Literally - can't move. Have you ever stayed in one spot for over an hour because you were too afraid to move? I have.

My brain lies to me. It lies consistently. It's lies do not cease.

I never tell you that. I never mention that I am struggling. I never say that some days I can't blog because I am so paralyzed by fear that nothing gets done or that I sit in a chair all day just trying to make it. I never say that I feel guilty because my issues effect others and effect my blog.

But I am struggling. So much.

I'm getting help. I've been placed on medication to help even out my anxiety temporarily and I'm calling my insurance company first thing tomorrow morning to find a doctor. I hate being on medication, and that hatred alone is enough to make me want to work hard to get off of it as soon as I can. I'm going to try and work with diet and exercise and a nutritionist to help find foods that will help as well. I don't want to be chained to a bottle of pills the rest of my life. I want to be normal.

That's all anyone likes me ever wants to be. Normal. If you or someone you know struggles, my prayers are with you.

My brain lies. But I was tired of lying to all of you - that sin of omission.

Mental illness is real. It is painfully debilitating. It hurts not only the person it ails but also those around them. Be patient with people like me. We want to be normal so badly.


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