Okay, I need to confess a few things. Mental health things.
If you’ve been hanging around this blog or my YouTube channel for a while, you know I have problems with anxiety, my ‘mood’ (doctors don’t seem to like using the word ‘depression’ these days, it seems) and what I like to call OCD-type tendencies. By this I mean that I wash my hands a lot, change my clothes a lot, worry constantly about germs and sometimes, I even babywipe my clothes WHILE I’M STILL WEARING THEM.
I’ve had therapy on and off for a lot of my life, and have been on pills for a couple of years now. Things were okay for a while. I was almost considering coming off said pills, and then things went downhill. Of course, I should have done something about this as soon as I started slipping but I didn’t.
I tried my best to ignore it, not wanting to admit that I was ‘back here again’ as I describe it to people, but as I stood in the bathroom a couple of weeks ago, wet-wipping my jeans so that I wouldn’t get bathroom germs around the rest of the house, I knew I had to do something. It hit me that I couldn’t remember the last time I hadn’t felt like an emotional wreck, couldn’t remember the last time I felt like something wasn’t a bit broken in my brain, and couldn’t remember the last time I’d woken up feeling content.
I told myself that I’d sleep more because that would make everything better, only it turned out that the more I slept the more of a failure I felt, then the more of a failure I felt, the harder it got to get out of bed, and the more the thought of having to change out of my PJs and into ‘real clothes’ to face the ‘real world’ filled me with dread.
One day I just sent my mum a text while she was at work. I hadn’t been planning on it and felt guilty, but she told me to go to the doctor too. As much as I didn’t want to, I forced myself to do it. He’s doubled my dosage of my pills and is sending me back for CBT.
As much as I hate that I’m ‘back here again’, I need to admit it, and get on with trying to overcome this.