These past few months have been beating the hell out of me as I deal with both emotional and tangible problems. The tangible problems are becoming a little overwhelming, which causes stress and that’s where they can overlap. You see, stress isn’t simply stress for someone with anxiety issues.
Not everyone can deal with stress well, but a mentally healthy person can find ways to combat the stress by either taking logical steps to solve the problems, distracting themselves and checking out, or they just break down. It can happen to everyone. It’s not to say that stress isn’t harmful to a mentally healthy person, but it’s a little different. For someone like me, breakdowns are almost always imminent when stress induces anxiety. Most times, I have to make a concerted effort to not break down. And in those moments, where I’m hysterical, I often make impulsively bad decisions in a desperate attempt to relieve the anxiety. Then, I lose hope that whatever problems I have will ever be resolved no matter what attempts I make to stop it.
And in a one-two punch to my mental health, an emotional issue recently flared up that resurfaced another facet of my anxiety. This part of the anxiety makes me unsure of myself again and then, I start to regress. I regressed to the person who I used to be; a person who believed that their every move was a slight to the people they cared about, a person who believed that their mere presence was a burden. I found myself constantly apologizing for things that didn’t require an apology. I found myself re-analyzing every single move I made after hanging out with friends and regretting most of them. I found myself relying heavily on the company of my friends because I couldn’t handle being alone. And despite that, I found myself believing that I wasn’t worth anybody’s time. I thought I had broken all those habits when I started getting better. They came rushing back and made me feel worse about myself.
It’s frustrating to think that all the progress you’ve made was for naught. So there’s stress, anxiety, regression and then, frustration. It’s made me both extremely reclusive, but at the same time, desperately want the company of friends.
This uncertainty, self-doubt, and constant teetering on the edge of a breakdown has made it so that my therapist has asked for more frequent sessions because she feels that it’ll “benefit me.” And with that, I doubt even more that I ever got better.
But then, I think about some of the things I’ve said on this blog, when I was in a better place and I realize that a lot of it makes sense.
I think a lot about what I said in my Hope analysis sequel. The one line that hits me most is this: “Have hope in that if you stumble, you’ll get up again. But don’t be hopeful of springing up and leaping over the moon. It takes time to heal.” It’s a little self-indulgent to seek comfort in my own writing, but it’s a reflection of who I was in my better days… when I made sense.
And then, it dawns on me that if I can reflect on the some of the healthier days and really believe them, then I must have gotten better. At my worst, very little could be said or done to make me feel better as I was blinded by my hopelessness and depression. Everything was discounted and dismissed. But at this moment, I still really believe what I said, so that in itself has to mean something? So I guess I haven’t regressed that far back, right? At least, not to my worst… yet?
I just gotta Keep on.