Things Fall Apart

Hello again, been awhile. Way back in October I mentioned that I'd started talking with a guy that I'd met on a dating site and since then things have gone remarkably well, we're dating now, though technically we haven't met up in person yet. We'll be doing that for the first time in a little over a week, I'm driving down to spend spring break with him and I'm really looking forward to it. In the interest of advocating safety when meeting up with someone that you've met online, I will mention that my mother is coming along with me. While I know that he's an amazing guy and not a creeper or potential predator, it appeases her paranoia if I have someone along, and in truth it is generally better to take precautions when meeting up with someone for the first time that you've only known online. Even though 99.9% of the people out there are genuinely decent, there is still that tiny chance of finding the psycho that you read about in occasional news headlines or see depicted on murder mystery tv shows. Though personally I tend to think the chances of something like that happening are no better than they would be if you got picked up in a bar or club or wherever you might meet guys in real life. Anyway, other good news since I last wrote, I passed all my classes from fall term.

Which, unfortunately, brings me to the bad news: I've had another break down. I haven't read over my old posts, so I don't remember how much I've mentioned, but I was having some trouble getting an extension on my financial aid to help me finish school since last summer. I finally got things straightened out in January, but that's where things got tricky. An unfortunate thing about depression is that it sometimes crops up even after you get past the stressful stuff. Once my problem finally got fixed and all the adrenaline from the stress went away, I kind of crashed and needed to take time for my body to recover. Now if I was smart I would have taken winter term off to recooperate and make sure I could keep my head on straight, but I was so wound up with the need to keep up this image of the "healthy and functional" person that I stupidly tried to push through and let myself get overwhelmed. Again. And to make matters worse, the courses that I'd signed up for for winter term were the worst possible ones for me -- they were all bac-core instead of the psych classes that could keep me focused, all online (which messes with my head because there is literally a written record of your every activity, what you do or don't do and when), and all essay and participation based instead of test-based grades. I am an excellent test taker, something that is actually fairly unusual in people with social anxiety, but essays totally freak me out. I'm a good writer, but I'm a very slow writer who has an incredibly difficult time getting started, not to mention the fact that I get so unnerved by the idea of someone reading what I write that I literally have to leave the room when they read it or I start to get a panic attack. Between the depression and the anxiety (not to mention problems with my medication), my brain effectively shut down and I got majorly screwed this term.

Depression is an evil disease. It sneaks up on you when you aren't looking and pulls you down until you feel like you can't breathe. I've barely been able to sleep during the last few nights, and spent most of this morning curled up in the fetal position sobbing because I just felt so completely hopeless and out of control. And it's even worse in my case, because like many people with social anxiety I have this perfectionist streak that messes with my head to the point that I have a lot of trouble asking for help; there's this warped idea that I need to be in control, that I can't let people see when I'm falling apart. So I suffer by myself, hiding my problems from the people that I care about because I can't let them see me be weak or burden them with my problems. I have still been seeing my doctor, so I'm getting the help that I need, but I haven't worked up the nerve to let anybody else in. I finally got enough control of myself today to try and get some help from someone at school, the woman in disability services who helped me earlier this year. And yes, this is a disability, it is an ongoing problem that continually interferes with my life and my very ability to function. While some people are fortunate enough to recover after a single bout of depression, I seem to be one of the chronic sufferers who will be dealing with this for the rest of my life. Now that I've finally gotten myself to admit the severity of my problems and deal with the fallout at school, I just have to steel my nerve and let my parents in on what's been happening with me. That's the hardest part.

Unless you've suffered serious depression and actually felt that utter despair that completely destroys your ability to function, it's really hard to understand how things get so out of control. My mother has worked so hard to help me get things back on track that all she's going to think about is that I've thrown away all of her effort. That's why it's so hard to talk about, other people have a hard time separating their own feelings from the situation and take it very personally when someone in their life hits that low. It's hard for them to remember that this is an illness, a problem with the brain chemistry and other contributing factors, and not an innate fault or laziness in the sufferer. It's so hard to tell someone that you're falling apart when you know that their reaction will only make you feel worse, will make you feel guilty for being sick.

And I'm crying again just thinking about it, so I think that'll be all for today. I do intend to start posting more frequently than I have been though, I seemed to be doing so much better when I had this outlet.