Mental Health Month: My Mental Health Story

When I was doing research for blog topics, I came across Mental Health American, the nation’s leading community-based nonprofit dedicated to addressing the needs of those living with mental illness and promoting the overall mental health of all Americans, and their Million In May campaign. The goal for the campaign this year is to encourage as many people to take a free mental health screening and reach one million mental health screenings! May is Mental Health Month so I thought it would be cool if I shared my mental health story with everyone. I have talked about my mental health struggles before, but I don’t think I have gone into very much detail. Opening up about this stuff is kind of scary, but I think it will be worth it.

I believe my mental health story started when I was around nine years old. I was diagnosed with ADD (which I know is not a mental illness. It’s a learning disability) and was singled out in school pretty bad because of it. My teacher made me feel small, always made me sit in the front row, and made it known to me that there was something “wrong” going on inside my brain. As a child, I was confused. I felt normal and I thought I acted normal like the other kids in my class. My teacher went out of her way to make me feel different from my other classmates and that is wrong. To her I had a “condition” and felt isolated from everyone else.

This teacher was the one who told my parents that I had a problem. With that being said, they took me to my pediatrician to figure out what my “problem” was. In my honest opinion, a pediatrician isn’t qualified to diagnose me with ADD. It was not her area of expertise but she was all for shoving medication down my throat. I didn’t even start going to see a therapist (the proper person to see if you have an issue like this) until maybe two years after I was prescribed medication.

My counselor wasn’t great either. She told my dad that she couldn’t help me. She said I wasn’t opening up to her. Excuse me but therapy at eleven years old is kind of scary. It’s a stranger asking me personal questions and I was a child. I was most likely scared of her and the situation I was put in. The only reason I was in therapy was because I wasn’t doing my homework and I started doing poorly in school. So because I was doing poorly, the only option was medication? No, I don’t think so.

Fast forward to high school. This is when I truly found out what was “wrong” with me. I stopped going to counseling years before because my counselor moved. In my first ever blog post, I talked a little bit about my diagnosis so I will recap it here: When I was seventeen I actually began my mental health journey and started taking it seriously. I was going to counseling (after a few years of taking a break) regularly to try and figure out what exactly was going on inside my head and I was getting a lot of different answers. My counselor at the time thought I had ADHD (different from ADD) so she took me next door to the psychiatrist's office to get tested for it. The test was pretty boring because I had to sit at a desk and stare at a computer screen for 10-15 minutes and press the spacebar every time a letter popped up on the screen except when the letter “X” popped up. I finished the test and got my results back and it turns out I didn’t have ADHD and the psychiatrist told me I probably never even had ADD, which is what I was diagnosed with when I was nine, but that I had a mild form of depression.

Cool, right? Leaning that the “condition” you had for years wasn’t even diagnosed properly? So for basically my whole life I was living with depression, but was told something completely different. My parents did what they thought was right, so I don’t blame them for anything just in case anyone was wondering. I think they were misinformed or maybe didn’t know any better but they were trying to help their struggling child the best way they possibly could! But, little did I know that depression was genetically handed down to me by my birth mother (along with other things but that’s a story for a different day). The anxiety and PTSD came later in my life.

Many know, especially if you read this blog regularly, about my abusive ex-boyfriend who I call T. I have mentioned him from time to time. Well that is because he caused me psychological torment. He made me feel special and loved when that wasn’t the case. He IS a pathological liar who somehow is so convincing you start to question your own sanity for questioning him. He lied about cheating on me and lied about many other things. He has lied to people about me and had lied to his girlfriend about talking to me. That doesn’t happen anymore since I cut ties with him, but his lies still stay in my brain to this day. I’ve heard about the stuff he’s said about me from mutual acquaintances and it wasn’t nice stuff. His lies and abuse ruined my mental well-being.

Never in a million years did I think I would be abused by someone. Especially a man who I really loved like T. When I met him he lied about who he really was. He, figuratively, put a mask on and acted normal and loving, when. really he just used me to feel good about himself. Being in this relationship was like living in a delusion where everything seemed perfect but the truth was right under my nose the whole time.

After we broke up we kept seeing each other for months, which didn’t help any part of the situation. He started seeing a new girl while we were still seeing each other and to try and end it with me he would call me names and say I’m psychotic. He would put his hands on me in an aggressive way while yelling at me. One time he almost ran my foot over with his car while he was trying to leave my house because he was mad at me and I was trying to get him to calm down and not leave. This kind of stuff caused my anxiety to go through the roof. I was traumatized by his actions and was afraid of him and running into him in public. When I did run into him I would “go crazy.” My whole body would hurt, I would feel nauseous and clammy, and my stomach felt like there was a rock sitting in it. My eyes would fill with tears and a sense of fear ran over me. I felt trapped in this awful situation until I said no more, and got out for good.

It took me a very long time to come to terms with my abuse and mental state. Writing this blog has helped me so much because I get to have an outlet to write about whatever I want and show people that they are not alone! I have found amazing resources to help me cope as well.

One great resource I found was the free mental health screenings from Mental Health America. They helped me realize how severe/not severe my conditions are and put me in the right direction to get the help I truly need.

The Coronavirus pandemic has made taking some steps difficult, as in going to a counselor because most of their offices are closed. I know there are online options but for me I would be more comfortable with getting to know someone face to face. I have my game plan set in motion and am so looking forward to moving forward with my life! Most people don’t think about taking the time to identify their feelings, but it can help to better cope with challenging situations. I am happy to be apart of the #MillionInMay campaign and to help encourage people to take steps needed to help identify their feelings and get the help. they may need.

I know that thinking about these things can be scary. It was scary for me at first, but I came to realize that my mental illnesses don’t define me and that I can control my feelings and live a happy life. For a very long time things were dark. I was lost after T and was stuck in some type of rut. I hated myself and made my family worry about me all because of some man. I still have depression and anxiety but I feel better about having these issues after accepting them and working on improving myself. When this pandemic is over, I will be seeing a counselor regularly, hopefully get prescribed some medication, and finally improve my way of living! I hope my mental health story reaches people who need it and shows that there is hope.

Things may seem dark at times but there is light at the end of the tunnel. Don’t give up, there is no shame in taking steps to improve your mental health!