Mental Health Journey & Therapy Thoughts

Hi there, fellow readers! It's a super chilly, Monday morning (weird considering its mid-May) at exactly 6:45am as I begin to write this while currently sitting in a Panera location; I finally had my first sip of coffee and am hoping I completely wake up sooner rather than later since I only got around four or five hours of sleep. I figured it's been about three months since I've written something new, and what better way to start off the week?

READERS DISCRETION ADVISED ~ BRIEF TOPIC ON SEXUAL HARRASSMENT

As you can tell by the title, this article will be pretty heavy since I'll be covering the ups and downs of my personal journey with mental health, but also tracing back all the way to my childhood when I became a victim of a sexual harassment incident. It took me a very long time to realize how I subconsciously shoved that traumatizing experience into the very back of my brain, truly not thinking about it in years, but I figured it was time to grasp these general topics and focus on it throughout my articles since I know I'm not alone when I say,

THIS. SHIT. IS. ROUGH.

There is a lot to cover in great detail, but I plan on doing my best to keep it at an appropriate length.

Rewinding a little bit, I remember when I published my last article around February, my intention was to keep up with the blog every two weeks, or worst-case scenario, monthly since I went around two years since writing anything new. I made some updates to the website itself a few weeks ago, but nothing seemed to click every time I thought about what topics I could write about. I barely got the idea to share the personal things I've been battling internally because it's been more of a struggle than not, and it became easy to feel alone which started to scare me.

I started this blog knowing I'd have to put myself in a vulnerable position with certain topics in order to connect with others, and that's exactly what I'm going to do now more than ever since mental health topics can be pretty uncomfortable when one is going through a difficult time ... but let's dive in regardless.

To start off on simple terms, I have been suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) and severe anxiety pretty much my entire life. My mom tells me that she recalls most moments of my childhood had to do with her and my dad noticing how particular I was with the smallest things; They never had to worry about telling me to do my chores for example, because I would almost have a meltdown if something wasn't clean or in place. The one story she remembers perfectly is when my kindergarten class and I were all assigned to color a drawing, and I made sure not to color it outside of the black lines. If I did, I would make the biggest deal and be incredibly disappointed in myself. Not really common for a five-year-old to take something like that so seriously or feel that it's the end of the world.

Although my OCD was very noticeable from a young age, I don't have any memory of it giving me a hard time during my childhood because I was happy having control over how clean my room was, how I organized my homework, and no one got in the way of it even though my parents did everything they could to make me wary of it. If anything, I kept feeding off of the way I loved having control over my own things and space. My nickname in middle school was even 'Class Cop' because somehow, all my classmates listened to me when I put everyone in their place so they could listen to what the teacher had to say. (I know, I know, I was a complete teacher's pet ... my brother still gives me a hard time about it). So clearly, that didn't help in the long run since it subconsciously gave me false hope everyone would always listen to my bossy self.

But as soon as my teenage years hit, that's when things began to go downhill.

Trust me when I say I learned the very hard way that things will never go as planned. Mix that with a bunch of hormones and you get a very angry teenager. Now that I think about these things and try to reflect on it as much as possible, I'm realizing my life took a complete turn when I was young; From the time I was born up until then, I sincerely remember everything being near perfect from having a beautiful house, witnessing my parents being in a loving marriage, the excitement of getting a baby brother at one point, truly loving the school I attended, and having the luxury of having my dad's big family living in the same city which meant seeing each other every weekend, plus making excuses to always throw parties.

Life was incredible, up until I started dealing with the typical bullies at school and slowly began to lose my self-confidence. I was a very timid and quiet kid in general, so it's clear I was an easy target for most. I perfectly remember one time I felt so intimidated by a specific bully who was about a year or two older than me, that I grabbed a $20 bill from my allowance and gave it to him, pleading he left me alone. All he did was laugh at my face and took it. Dealing with bullies is unfortunately very typical, but it's still easy to feel like you're the only one being picked on at the end of the day. Those tormented years of people taking advantage of how shy I was lasted up until I started middle school, but in high school I was just categorized as one of the weird kids because I sincerely didn't like people and avoided my classmates as much as possible. If anything, I would have lunch with teachers who were always so kind to me.

By the way, I STILL don't like people :)

Most get bullied in their lives, but I think a lot of us fail to analyze how that can impact one's self-worth in general even as the years go by. Maybe it's just me, who knows, but it would be interesting to dig a little deeper with that in itself. In my situation, I know I've lost trust in human beings at a young age, which is probably the main reason why I concluded a long time ago that I had no interest in making friends. Give me a good book instead, and I'll be happy. I also have terrible social anxiety so that doesn't help ...

It wasn't always bad though. Of course I made friends along the way, especially when I started college, but deep down I never fully learned to trust others. The sad thing is that I BARELY realized that at almost 29 years old. My personality changed almost instantly when I was about to finish high school because I got to a point where I was, pardon my language, sick of people's bullshit. I went a long time feeling picked on and everyone thinking they could just say or do whatever because I already had the reputation of never standing up for myself.

Well guess what, mo-fo's ... that took a quick turn as soon as I turned eighteen. Instead of finding a balance, I went to the other side of the spectrum and became a bully myself without realizing it at first. I was very mean, unnecessarily blunt, and became apathetic. I felt proud for finally getting to a point where I told people to f*** off if needed, but I certainly failed in realizing I was just very angry internally. I never took the steps to really work on myself and question why I would lash out or have the need to prove myself to others that they couldn't take advantage of me anymore.

Was I really that hurt? Did I really have that big of an internal scar I refused to acknowledge?

The simple answer is yes. I didn't know it at the time, but I allowed myself to bury past traumas and it slowly started to show in my actions. I became unhappy, ungrateful, and began to isolate myself starting at the age of six when I sadly became a victim of a sexual harassment situation that involved a slightly older, male cousin on my father's side. To be quite honest, I figured out a way to really suppress that dark memory so much so that I don't remember much except feeling extremely confused at first, but then powerless. I had no understanding of what was happening, but somehow, I knew that it wasn't okay. I began to feel ashamed as time went by and decided to keep quiet.

The only person I have briefly talked to about this is my husband, but hearing about many people's relatable experiences and also being afraid to speak up made me realize how much of an expert I became at hiding that part of my story when in reality all it did was harm me extensively as time continued to pass.

I've personally struggled with physical touch since then, always feeling uncomfortable even with the smallest things like hugging, and of course I am not known to be the cheery human being within my family or friend group either because I lost all trust in people for most of my teenage and early adult life. I thought I was doing myself a favor in learning how to make that traumatic memory disappear for as long as I could make it, but it made me into a person that would make the grinch look like the happiest creature alive.

Fast forward a bit, my parents ended up getting a divorce when I was around eleven years old, and that's when I began to notice my life "falling apart" in multiple ways. This was in absolutely no way no one's fault, but I sort of wasn't allowed to have a childhood anymore from that point forward considering I have a younger brother who I am seven years older than, so it was expected of me to act and think accordingly in order to provide help in any way my mom needed. I became the second parent, and I believe that's when my anxiety started ever since I figured out I didn't know how to handle certain things.

I have to add that I wholeheartedly acknowledge my mother's sacrifices throughout the years, and I regret not having the ability to feel that a long time ago. It was easy to blame her for all the things I felt I missed out on, for feeling trapped, getting upset that she was always working, but now that I am very close to turning 30 years old, I think to myself ...

NO WAY IN HELL I COULD DO WHAT SHE'S DONE FOR THIS LONG.

The respect I have for single parents is through the roof. However, as a kid, we don't tend to admire how our parents manage to balance daily tasks, therefore I was not my mom's biggest fan growing up. To say I felt pressured every day is an understatement, and I've always been a sensitive person. My first instinct was to have the desire to talk things out, but the household I grew up in did not allow that. Both my mom and brother are extremely reserved when it comes to emotions but I'm the opposite, so you can imagine how I felt in my household at a young age. I began to suffer from frequent panic attacks, not knowing what they were at the time, but they scared me so much I asked my mom to take me to a cardiologist; I was convinced my heart was failing in some way. Results came back showing no concerning signs whatsoever, which made me a bit anxious since I wanted a specific answer to not worry about it so much.

Years continued to pass by, and although I became aware of those attacks within that timeframe, the topic of mental health continued to be non-existent in the ethnic household that I grew up in. The typical saying was,

"Everyone has problems, and one must learn to get over it and deal with it on your own"

or the famous

"Life goes on"

Having heard that multiple times at a young age caused me to be hard on myself for suffering in silence and it added to my stress; Courage was the last thing I had when it came to seeking professional help. The amount of panic attacks I was having throughout my first two years of college became exhausting, and that led me to have depression where I lost motivation to take school seriously. I ended up almost getting kicked out of my college the first year, and that was the wake up call I needed in order to start talking to someone about it and figure out how to get back on track without my family finding out. I realized very quickly how much impact it can have on relationships as well; I noticed myself pushing people away or lashing out more than usual when in reality they didn't do anything wrong.

Now, I fortunately have a small group of friends and a husband that have been extremely supportive and have an incredible amount of patience to ask what's going on, plus they have been honest about how I've been acting in general and vocalize their concerns towards my level of anxiety. In the case of overall relationships, I have been blessed to have those type of people in my life, but it also gave me the required push to do something about my mental health. Now, I take it very seriously and started talking to a therapist last year, but it wasn't the right fit, so I continue to search for the right one.

I never had negative opinions about therapy like some do, but I was terrified at the thought of it. I kept going back and forth in different periods of my life, but never took it seriously until now since my goal is to learn coping mechanisms and analyze the root of why my anxiety gets triggered easily in certain situations. It forces me to ask myself uncomfortable and challenging questions in order to put things into perspective and navigate what I'm feeling into a more soothing transition to get a clear idea on what steps I need to take in the future. Not prioritizing one's mental health can lead to difficult obstacles along the way and make things harder long-term, which is something I had to learn throughout my early twenties and continue to do so.

In present time, I can admit my anxiety has been at its worst, my OCD still finds a way to rule my life and it makes everything feel as if the world is shrinking and I have no way of getting out. It's so hard to focus on the positive at times, and the best way I can explain it is having a battle with yourself; One part is aware of the light at the end of the tunnel, but the other part refuses to go there since it's only focusing on the negative. I've also noticed myself becoming more sensitive, I find excuses to isolate myself, and I've been more uncomfortable than ever just doing anything new. It's as if I'm purposely closing off myself to what the world has to offer just because I am afraid of triggering that anxiety.

I know I have a lot of work ahead of me, and although I do have some days I question if it's even worth going back to therapy, I do everything in my power to fight that thought. I personally think therapy can benefit anyone, no matter what one's life looks like. We live in a society where a lot of people get fooled by these "perfect" appearances on social media, but everyone has problems. I don't care how pretty, handsome, rich, likeable or successful you are ... we're all human, we all have our traumas and insecurities, but we're all learning too.

Everyone has to find a way to navigate their own life with the cards they were handed, but that doesn't mean we need to do it alone. It's pretty amazing how far we've gotten in society where mental health is an open conversation and there are so many resources to get help, but it's still concerning how easy it can be to fall into feeling alone again even though sometimes one is aware they have family or friends supporting them.

I know this article in particular was kind of a long read, but if you got this far, thank you so much for the support in just doing so. I sincerely felt moved to share my personal battles in hopes it will reach the right person and make them feel that it's okay to not be okay. Some days are harder than others, but it's important to keep going and find what works to view life in the best way possible.