It's Okay, Not to Be Okay

I feel broken. I've felt like this for years, but it wasn't always this way. As a child and even into my young teens, I was an outgoing person. I could talk to anyone. I still can, but it's different now. It's more forced. I can feel my body draining of its emotional and mental energy. It's a show... or maybe a hope on my part. It's a hope that maybe one day I'll return to normal. But what is my normal? I can't remember anymore.

Mental illness is always there. It isn't something you can "catch." It's not something you can cure, only treat. However, it can be triggered. I don't remember having any issues when I was younger. I was happy, healthy, and ready to take on the world, until I was about 16 years old, then I started changing.

There are things that can trigger anxiety to come popping out. For me, it started with my terrible relationship as a teen with my mom. She was extremely overbearing and always down my throat. Now keep in mind, I was a good kid. I never got into trouble. I was an excellent student and involved in extracurricular activities. It was like, all of the sudden, all she cared about were my grades and what I was doing. I remember her taking my phone away because I got an 89% on an assignment, and because it wasn't an "A," it was unacceptable. If I didn't unload the dishwasher immediately after it was done washing, I would get a lecture. Little things that were ridiculous.

I started to feel resentment of course, but I also started feeling very angry and paranoid. I never left my room unless I had to. Even just going to the kitchen to get a snack or a drink left me crawling in my skin because I felt like everyone was judging me. I didn't want to spend time with my friends anymore. I was changing, but at the time, I didn't realize what was happening to me. I wish I had so I could have gotten help sooner.

It only spiraled from there. Different events and people that I had come into contact with had me receding into myself more and more each day. As I write this, I am waiting for a psychologist's office to call me back so that I can set an appointment and finally get the help I need. It only took nine years for me to be brave enough to do so. I am so broken, but I'm not going to let it defeat me. I feel defeated, but at least I'm reaching out of the dark hole for help. Don't be afraid to seek help. Don't feel embarrassed or ashamed. We have to work past those emotions to be able to rise from the ashes. It's okay, not to be okay.