TW: depression, codependency, obsessive-compulsive disorder

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Long story short: Saturday sucked as much as I thought it would. I constantly kept on thinking how happy I was to be on antidepressants during the entire thing because it made it bearable to get through and distract myself through hostessing. 

There’s something about being set up or deceived that makes me feel like I did something to deserve it because several people had to agree to do what they did to me on Saturday. It’s incredibly hurtful to have people tell you they don’t like how you’ve been treated only to go completely out of their way to accommodate a person they know has been cruel to me. I don’t get it. Perhaps there is nothing to get, because judging by the conversation on Saturday I’ve been allowing my mind to be polluted with some of the most juvenile and anti-intellectual conversations with these people. I don’t feel like competing in a race over who spent the most money on Fiesta dinnerware or fancy wrapping paper. I almost feel like no expectations is too much in this situation, I need to expect the worst. 

For better or for worse, I held it together at the party. I also cried for the majority of an hour and a half car ride because I finally have enough self-esteem to think I deserve to be treated better than I was at the party. Crying on antidepressants is some ways is a gift, it means I’ve finally cleared away so much of my codependent tendencies to be upset for myself for once. I also can stop the “what if it wasn’t intentional” game in my head, shit clearly was intentional. So two more events and I’m pretty much walking away from this entire thing because there’s no way in hell I’m compromising my health and my character anymore.

So last night in a somewhat pathetic attempt to pretend I don’t care that people will judge me for taking care of my mental illness, I publicly checked into a mental hospital where I attend meetings last night. I don’t know who noticed or not (nor do I really care), but at the same time I had known for the last five times I’ve driven up to Cobb County not to do what I normally do when I go out.

And to be frank, I’m also not terribly comfortable with mental healthcare facilities as a concept. Images from Running With Scissors, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, Prozac Nation and Girl, Interrupted come to mind when I think of the words “mental hospital” or “in-patient psychiatric unit” or whatever label someone at the hospital gave to it. Despite my own experiences and knowing that for the most part the treatment options are the best that they’ve ever been for people like myself, the social construct of mental illness and mental health care seems impossible to change. I’ve been making jokes about another hospital in the Atlanta area, Charter Peachford, since I was nine years old. They used to play commercials for the programs they have there and they were mocked heavily throughout my adolescence. Perhaps this too has helped me internalize stigma about living with mental illness and seeking treatment for it.

However, once I realized I needed to actually talk to people outside of my therapist’s office about my experience, going to a hospital was my best option. They know how to run the meetings and organize everything. They train former patients to be facilitators. Perhaps not all hospitals are as well run as Ridgeview, but I’m also no longer afraid of the idea of being hospitalized if I were to be a patient there. People do well after their programs. Everyone I’ve encountered there has been kind and willing to help me find whatever room I need to be at for meetings without judgement. It’s a lot less scary or sterile or depressing than I anticipated.

As for the meetings, it’s so nice to be able to talk openly about my experiences and hear from other people further in their lives that I can make this work. It’s good to be assured hat there are so many more resources and treatment plans than ever before, that things really can be managed. I like feeling hopeful about the future - that I could get married and have someone support me through this journey without having to miraculously overcome my illness. More importantly, we don’t pity ourselves. Everyone at these meetings is working toward something, even if it’s just working on not giving up. The solace I’ve found in a place that is most often presented in the most negative light makes me look forward to realizing other paradoxes and hypocrisies in this life.

Talking about meds, seizures, and how it’s not fair everything at Berry got upgraded once we graduated with my old roommate.

In a way I’ve been participating in Lenten practices since the beginning of 2012, giving up things to gain more of myself back. Phase 1 on reclaiming my life has gone really well, I’m feeling a lot healthier physically and mentally.

Phase 2 is going to be harder. Lent for me is now not representing just me becoming better acquainted with Episcopal traditions, but is also falling around events involving people I know aren’t invested in treating me with the respect I deserve. I’m not looking forward to having to spend so much time, energy, and money on a wedding shower, bachelorette party, and wedding with people who don’t want the best for me. The next 40 days are going to be me facing a lot of things I don’t want to face. But by the powers of cognitive behavioral therapy, anti-depressants, and a new found appreciation for organized religion I’m going to try to make the best of it.

So in preparation of dealing with immature people, trying to be a better person myself, and generally trying to make the world a little nicer I’m going to try to do the following things:

• Give up alcohol (outside of communion) as it’s often allowed me to feel more comfortable in situations that are emotionally unhealthy
• Do something that shows my appreciation to my family members daily
• Show my appreciation to my dearest friends through letters and care packages since most of them live far away currently
• Volunteer as much as possible
• Make myself available to my new church community
• Be assertive but kind in social situations where I’m likely to be treated poorly

I’ve been on medication for 25 days now, and my mindset has changed so much. So many of the extraneous thoughts from my OCD have faded into the background and I’m able to focus on myself and being well.

While I’m still frustrated with a lot of aspects of my life (jobs, questionable friends, etc.) I’m no longer so preoccupied on what’s bothering me. I can focus on the future now. I can ignore the passive aggressive comments in e-mails. I can keep my phone on silent and not feel guilty about it.

Having this time at 24 to move toward cognitive and neurological health has already changed my life for the better. I’m worrying less about other people’s expectations of me and instead working on the bigger issue of finally figuring out what I want. More importantly, I don’t feel guilty for taking the time to become well.

Small steps are adding up. I’m going to support groups, being more assertive and outgoing, and reconnecting with those I know are empathetic, passionate, and creative. I’m not denying the fact I want a Ph.D. anymore, instead I’m being open about how scared I am of the process of obtaining one. I can see the strength I have in being emotional and am acknowledging that there’s nothing wrong with being a person who needs things to feel right rather than look right. 

I could wish that my family (immediate and extended) would act normal for more than 48 hours, but instead I’ll wish that they get treatment, that I continue with mine, and that this wave of anxiety/OCD madness passes.

It sucks that I felt really good today and then I started having tremors.