I have dealt with Anxiety my entire life. If you’ve read my book, you know that I have memories of anxious feelings and panic attacks from before the age of six. Anxiety is not new. Anxiety is a familiar foe. But depression…that’s a whole ‘nother can o’ worms.
I am in the midst of depression right now. Moderate depression, apparently. I don’t know how long it will last, and I can’t really pinpoint when it began. It’s hard to tell because sometimes anxiety and depression blend into one hideous creature. But now I can tell. I can tell that I am both anxious and depressed.
And guess what. It sucks. What a surprise, right? I fluctuate between having panic attacks and crying on the floor for no reason. I fluctuate between caring too much about my health to not caring what happens to me at all. I honestly feel like I’m going insane.
I do (sort of) know what brought this on. I’ve always had health anxiety but the past few months I’ve become obsessive about it. I do have some legitimate health issues. My doctors are looking into them now (and that’s an entirely different blog post because I’m totally freaking out about that stuff). But I’ve become so convinced that these health problems are serious problems (which they might be, we don’t know) that I can barely function.
At this point, I have no idea what’s wrong with me. I don’t know when I’ll find out. The point is though, as of RIGHT this second, I don’t have a reason to worry because…well…I just don’t know.
But I can’t stop worrying. I can’t stop crying. I can’t stop feeling this way. I’ve talked to my mentor. I’ve talked to my parents. I’ve talked to God. I’ve talked to my counsellor. I’ve talked to my husband. I’ve talked to some friends. I don’t know what else to do.
Feeling this way feels extra bad in the midst of all the Christmas festivities. I freaking LOVE Christmas. I love everything about it. And when I was with my family, I actually felt better for the most part. I was distracted. I was actually able to enjoy myself for the first time in what felt like two entire months of misery.
But now, it’s almost over. I start back at school next week. I have full time classes. I’m terrified but at the same time, I feel like I don’t have the effort to care. How is that even possible.