LipstickStains

It’s always been important to me to be able to be open about my mental health struggles. I felt like by sharing I was able to help people feel less alone, or sometimes terrible about their own struggles. This proved itself to be true in high school when talking about my journey brought people to me who had felt alone in what they were going through. From there I decided to always do my best to help people who, like me, might be suffering with something that feels impossible. 

My mental health has changed a lot since I started being vocal about it at 18. For a long time I felt like I’d always be stuck in life, like some way, some how, it all would end before it became too real. But then, I grew up, and with that, changed and things became easier. If you’re struggling with something you feel like you won’t overcome, I hope you can find some solace in knowing that it does indeed get better, as long as you put in the work.

So here’s the story…

A constant anxiety ate at me about every aspect of life from the time I was about 3,  I was terrified of being kidnapped, and with that, terrified of adults. I was scared of judgment and criticism from my peers, and because of that, I was scared of kids. I was afraid of Satan, and later in my life, God. I was afraid of moving out one day and being by myself; I was scared of growing up.   

By 7th grade, shortly after I burst into tears in the Target checkout line for no reason, I started therapy and was diagnosed with social anxiety and generalized anxiety. My therapist recommended journaling, but it didn’t help. I wasn’t medicated and didn’t fully understand what was happening. I felt a little bit scared all the time, I felt like at any moment my life could fall apart.

Now, this could be from any number of things, moving a lot, my parents-iffy-relationship, changing schools, caring for my grandmother, or the bullying i faced at the christian school i was attending at the time. Being 11, I had no concept of how any of that had an impact on my development, I just knew something was wrong.

Going into 8th grade, I started self-harming. 

I was discovering my sexuality, and I hated myself for being queer due to the fact that I grew up in a very religious family who taught me that being this way made me wrong, a sin, an abomination. 

My family moved once again, and I hated them for dragging me away from my family and friends. I was very close to my cousins and played a large role as a caregiver to the younger of them. 

I was starting a new school, year-round, which I wasn’t fond of, and I had just changed schools the year previously and before that I was bullied fairly severely. I was finally happy and making friends and it all changed again. I had no friends, I was distancing myself from my family, and I felt completely alone.

This all just piled up and I needed to cope, hurting was the only way I knew how. Now I know why I like to hurt; and  finding the answer to “why?” is a big step in overcoming certain challenges for me and knowing what shaped me to be the way I am helps me adjust how I behave and respond. It takes a lot of research and time and this can even be very painful  process but taking time to learn yourself is essential for growth.

Upon my mother discovering my SH through my school therapist, I was taken back to therapy, this time for my depression, and there I received Prozac for the first time. 

I don’t remember much about being medicated in middle school, probably because I largely wasn’t. I’d forget to take my medicine or not care to. My only memory from that time revolving around my medication is when I was going to try to OD on it, my parents had discovered my secret (ex) girlfriend and weren’t responding well to it. I felt like I didn’t deserve to be here anymore. I didn’t OD, thankfully, but aside from that, my meds went largely ignored.

Despite me being in more consistent therapy, this medication tactic carried over into high school, and my mental health got worse. I was, honestly, a very unpleasant person to be around by the time I was 18. I was constantly bouncing between depressive episodes and manic episodes. I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder with mania in the form of irritability shortly before my senior year. This meant that when I was manic, I’d feel scared, threatened, and my fight or flight would always be on, this made me incredibly rude, I felt constantly under attack and would often jump to fight for myself when it wasn’t necessary. I lost all my friends, and my relationship with my parents worsened. I was on another downtick. Then I started developing other unhealthy coping mechanisms. 

I’d put myself in situations to be hurt by others over and over again. I won’t go into detail, but I will explain that I found ways of hurting myself that weren’t necessarily cutting. In using others I was able to inflict strong emotional pain, subconsciously and at that time, unknowingly to me. I’ve always had a particular interest in my brain, but this pattern was very difficult for me to acknowledge and change. 

By August of ’23 I was completely unmedicated, still bouncing between mental states, still hurting myself. This is when I met Jaiden and Ruby, my now partners.

Truthfully, they didn’t change much about my being medicated at first. They both had their struggles and they were completely unmedicated. I figured I was doing fine enough without medication that it didn’t really matter if I was taking those steps to improve, I could be just fine without needing to remember to take a pill every day. When someone would point out my bad behavior, I’d do everything I could to change, but it was hard, and eventually, Jaiden and Ruby stopped believing me, not that I blame them. But then something happened that I never expected: Jaiden got medicated.

I won’t tell Jaiden’s story because it’s not mine to tell, but he’s had his own mental health struggles that have led him to also emotionally hurt himself and others. He knew his behavior was wrong and always strived to be better, but it wasn’t until he faced a great loss that he actually pursued medication. His change was so immediate and drastic for the better that it inspired me to do whatever I could to get better. One day, he explained it to me, “The medicine doesn’t fix you; it just makes it easier to change. You still have to put the work in”. This helped me realize why I’ve always fallen short in the past. I did want to do better and everytime I made a promise I couldn’t fulfill, it hurt, because I wanted to change. Hearing this made me want to do better; for the first time I wanted to be medicated, and I wanted to not hate myself. 

So, I started the process, a process I really couldn’t have done without my girlfriend, Ruby, helping me. I first got health insurance, then I went to the doctor and got set up with a therapist and psychiatrist. Needless to say, I’ve been feeling much better since consistently taking my medicine. I don’t hate myself or others as much as I used to, and I now have more space and patience for kindness towards others. 

It still haunts me how I’ve treated people in the past. I will never escape some of the horrible things I’ve said to some of my closest friends. Over the years, I’ve considered apologizing, but I think it’s ok that those relationships have come to a close. While I miss them, I’m not the same person I used to be, so I just don’t think those friendships were meant to last. My focus now is on helping people as much as I’ve hurt those in the past. I want people to feel kindness and love from me, even on the days when I feel like it’s hard to give. 

I’m still working on myself, still trying every day to improve. I want to be a better girlfriend, friend, and daughter. I want to make up for what I’ve done, even if I never can; it’s still worth a shot.