*Trigger Warning*
This post has been delayed for a few weeks because of how hard it is to put my current state of mind into words in a completely honest fashion. The last post in this series, “BRAND NEW”, was dedicated to what got me spiraling out of control again and collapsing into a state of relapse. This post is completely dedicated about what I am going through now, and how my new recovery is affecting me.
I’ve always had trouble adjusting to new things, simply because I grow anxious when I have to change my patterns and go outside of my typical comfort zone. So when it finally fit me that I was moving to college, my anxiety shot through the roof. As previously mentioned, moving to college was a huge ordeal for me, and making friends was so incredibly difficult for me. However, in a way, this was a distraction from some of the other pain that I was fighting through, because I was more focused on fitting in, just like in high school. Now, this has completely changed. I have a fabulous group of friends and support system that I love more than words can describe. Nonetheless, this has caused my mind to really focus on the roots of my anxiety and depression. Over the winter break, I confessed to my mother that I needed help. I needed to talk to my old therapist and try to form words about the storm that has been trolling constantly in my head for so long without me saying a word about it.. The great thing about my mother is how loving and accepting she is; she called my therapist within the blink of an eye and had me an appointment for the next week. I sat that week over break and wondered what the hell I was going to say to her and how the fuck I was going to describe the turmoil that was rampaging through me body at every waking moment of every day. The morning finally came where I had my appointment with my therapist and my mind and heart were racing at a million miles an hour on the car ride there. I sat down on the couch in her office and I made some small talk for a minute. She quickly cut me off and said, “Josh, I haven’t seen you in 2 years, so what the hell is going on that made you run back here?” My heart nearly stopped.
I kept walking around the truth of what was really going on in my life. She cut me off yet again and quickly told me that lying to her was pointless because she knew every single excuse that I had in my book. She was asking questions about my triggers, and if I had the temptation to cut and purge in the present. I lied. I told her no. When in my mind, I was thinking about my true answer; how I wanted to, more than anything, to make fresh cuts on my skin and be reminded of the pleasurable pain that used to grace my skin daily. How I felt like I was gaining weight and the easiest way out was to throw up everything that I eat instead of exercising like a healthy and logical person does. However, the brilliant woman that she is could probably see through the lies that I was weaving in that session. I talked for about 30 minutes without her saying a word, she just listened – she replied to my massive monologue with just one sentence: “Josh, you’re clinically depressed and have extreme anxiety, I don’t know why you keep avoiding this.” I sat there, stunned in silence. About 3 years ago, I was prescribed to an anti-depressant called Wellbutrin, which made my moods a lot better but had intense side effects such as vomiting that I just couldn’t deal with. So after about 4 months on this medication, I threw the bottle away and was determined that I wasn’t depressed anymore, that I didn’t have anxiety any longer, and that I could fight off any of my problems on my own (but we all know how far I got with this and how many times I have told myself this in the past).
I began talking to her about how I finally understood that I probably was clinically depressed and had an intense amount of anxiety that handicapped some of my every day life. She finally asked the crippling question that I had been dreading so much: “So, how do you feel about trying some medication again, Josh?”, my heart absolutely sank. For any of you the have read my blog in the past of follow me on basically any form of social media, you know how much I talk about reaching out for help when you need it. You can also conclude from my blog and social media that I seldom follow my own advice, a lethal trait. I don’t like to ask others for help, and I certainly didn’t want the help of medication again. However, with the urge to draw blood from my body and let it drop on the floor, and with the urge to leave my meals in a porcelain bowl, I felt as if I didn’t have any other options. So the next day, I picked up a prescription for a new anti-depressant that was also supposed to calm my nerves and help to deal with the effects of my anxiety. I felt embarrassed asking for help, I felt like I had failed on my own,, that I was letting everyone down, little did I know that medicine could be the best thing to make people be proud of the progress I could make while prescribed.
So here I am typing you this blog about 2 weeks into my medication and wondering if I was going to start feeling better. I didn’t think anything was working until today… I was rejected from my dream job at a place I have gone to for my entire life. I longed for this job more than just about anything I ever have. I had prepared for the worst, knowing that I was probably going to fall apart if something like being rejected happened. I was ready to go to war with myself yet again. However, when I got the news that I didn’t get the job, I cried for a bit, and then I started to laugh and smile. I started to think about all of the possibilities that could take the place of the job until I reapplied the next year, and all the places that I could go and the people I could meet. For the first time in my life, rejection felt like it had purpose; and for the first time in so many years, I felt like I understood what God (Refer to some old blog posts on God and you will see to clear struggle that the two of us have had over the past several years) wanted me to do. I firsthand saw God today, in the oddest of places – in rejection. Today I felt like I understood God’s plan and I didn’t fall apart at the sight of rejection. Is it the medicine that gave me this optimism? Or was it just a strike of luck? I was so used to dogging on myself and hating myself more and more when rejection happened. However, I put my all into the things that I attempt. I may fail several times, but I always put maximum effort. I did the best that I could, and me getting this job just wasn’t in the cards. God wasn’t ready to deal me that hand, and until he his, I’ll play the hand he thought was best for the present time.
“BRAND NEW” is all about telling the past, present, and future of my new recovery. This post was dedicated to my present, where I am, and what I’m experiencing through my new recovery. I opened my world to you completely raw and unedited. I would love to hear the experiences you have had with medication to deal with mental illness. Today, I am happy, for I feel that this medicine could actually be working with me to find a route to happiness. I am becoming brand new, a brand new Josh, and a brand new form of confidence and commitment.
I would love to hear from you, truly.
Send me an email at Jshepherd637@gmail.com
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(P.S – Stay tuned for the finale post of “BRAND NEW” and several new posts coming in January and February 2016!)
Confidence to Commitment 