L
Lex
Member
- Joined
- Jun 25, 2018
- Messages
- 28
- Location
- Oregon
I could fill this page with history and maybe I will... If this mood continues. I feel like my childhood reads like a long excuse but I am trying not to treat it like that. As long as I can remember my mom has been sick. Really sick. Kidney failure, brittle bones, tracheostomy, infection after infection. I think I was 10 when it got really bad for her. I spent the rest of my childhood and most of my adulthood thus far in hospitals, doctors, care centers... For her. I don't recall a time that I went for myself as we spent so much time focused on keeping her healthy. I worried so much. I self medicated. I threw up a lot. My anxiety started strangling me when I was a young child and never really let go. I kept it together on the outside. Presented well to others. I got married. My mom is still sick. She won't get better but 18 years later she is still here. I'm really thankful for that.
I just got into therapy. I had a breakdown almost 3 months ago. My cat died the day that we moved into a new place and it was literally the final straw. I functioned enough to work but I cried all the time and I stopped eating. I became convinced that I was dying. I became convinced that I was a burden to everyone around me. My husband had a hard time understanding how I could be so normal in public and collapse into despair the moment I was in private. My therapist helped pull me out. During our first appointment she told me that I was my toughest critic. That my self criticism was stealing my joy and bolstering my anxiety. She told me that it was okay to worry about myself and that it was even more okay to take care of myself. She asked that I offer the same love, forgiveness and empathy I would offer someone that I love. It hit me. Just like that is freaking hit me. I realized that if someone I loved was doing things as I was, I would freak out. I would want them to get help. I would do everything in my power to make life better for them as that was no way to live. I don't know why it took me so long to realize that I mattered and that I needed to give myself grace so I could get better.
I'm not better yet. I'm eating again. I lost 20 pounds on what my best friend calls an anxiety diet. I'm still a nervous wreck. I got to therapy. I talk openly with my friends and spouse about my anxiety and the depression that has creeper up because of it.
My first step in getting my confidence back and conquering my fear was to visit the dentist. My teeth are fairly terrible. I have an unerupted wisdom tooth that is causing pain, one that came in crooked, multiple broken molars from clenching and grinding, at least a few cavities and cracks. I'm a mess.
One more things though. I made an appointment today. I cried through the entire phone call with the receptionist. She was so sweet and kind. I have to wait a week to go and that's almost more than I can bear but I am going to do it. I am going to do it for me.
I will keep updating.
I just got into therapy. I had a breakdown almost 3 months ago. My cat died the day that we moved into a new place and it was literally the final straw. I functioned enough to work but I cried all the time and I stopped eating. I became convinced that I was dying. I became convinced that I was a burden to everyone around me. My husband had a hard time understanding how I could be so normal in public and collapse into despair the moment I was in private. My therapist helped pull me out. During our first appointment she told me that I was my toughest critic. That my self criticism was stealing my joy and bolstering my anxiety. She told me that it was okay to worry about myself and that it was even more okay to take care of myself. She asked that I offer the same love, forgiveness and empathy I would offer someone that I love. It hit me. Just like that is freaking hit me. I realized that if someone I loved was doing things as I was, I would freak out. I would want them to get help. I would do everything in my power to make life better for them as that was no way to live. I don't know why it took me so long to realize that I mattered and that I needed to give myself grace so I could get better.
I'm not better yet. I'm eating again. I lost 20 pounds on what my best friend calls an anxiety diet. I'm still a nervous wreck. I got to therapy. I talk openly with my friends and spouse about my anxiety and the depression that has creeper up because of it.
My first step in getting my confidence back and conquering my fear was to visit the dentist. My teeth are fairly terrible. I have an unerupted wisdom tooth that is causing pain, one that came in crooked, multiple broken molars from clenching and grinding, at least a few cavities and cracks. I'm a mess.
One more things though. I made an appointment today. I cried through the entire phone call with the receptionist. She was so sweet and kind. I have to wait a week to go and that's almost more than I can bear but I am going to do it. I am going to do it for me.
I will keep updating.