silvernmusings

[silvernmusings]

The Beginning

Since starting this journey of healing and introspection, I have found myself unsure of where to begin. I’ve tried pin-pointing a moment in my past where I feel it all began, but I have come up empty handed at every turn. Until now.

My biggest struggle as of late has been finding the strength to be vulnerable and candid about my mental health when seeking help from my loved ones. I very rarely express my true feelings because I fear that they will not understand, or that they will not care, or that I will be deemed altogether Too Much. 

I decided that this is where I should start. I took a deep dive into myself to try to figure out why I feel this way, and I came across a memory I have kept neatly buried for over a decade. And that memory revealed the reason for this great struggle of mine.

When I was 14 years old, I experienced my first true mental breakdown. I had always struggled with anxiety and night terrors, due to many traumatic experiences as a baby and as a child, but this was the first time it presented itself in this way in my adolescence. 

I suffered from daily panic attacks and constant feelings of anxiety and dread. I told my parents that I was afraid I might lose control and harm myself, so they took the necessary steps to get me the help I needed.

Those steps led to me being placed in an intake program for troubled youths. I spent a couple of weeks there, it was kind of like going to school. It wasn’t a full intake program, so I got to go home every day and then my parents would take me back each morning. I didn’t find it particularly beneficial while I was there, I was mostly uncomfortable because everybody else there seemed to have “real” issues and I felt that I didn’t belong because my issues weren’t “that bad”. I have since come to see the misguided nature of those thoughts and to truly appreciate the help that I received there.

To be released from the program, my parents and I had to have a meeting with the resident psychiatrist at the facility and come up with a plan to continue my treatment outside of the program. The psychiatrist officially diagnosed me with anxiety and depression, and prescribed me medication to treat those illnesses. Then they matched me with a therapist, wished me well, and sent us on our way.

In the days leading up to that first therapy appointment, my parents encouraged me to be vulnerable and honest and to not hide my feelings, to understand that the therapist is there to help me. I was nervous and uncomfortable, but I wanted to get the help I needed so I vowed to myself that I would be fully transparent and tell the therapist everything I was feeling.

That first therapy session will forever be burned into my memory as one of the most traumatic events of my young life.

The day finally came and I found myself sitting in a big, mostly empty, room on a high-up floor in a very tall building in downtown Philadelphia. I don’t remember much of what was said, as the appointment lasted approximately five minutes at most, but I know it went something like this: I broke down in tears on the sofa and explained that I was scared of what was going on inside my head, scared that I would lose control of myself and hurt myself even though I didn’t want to, and that I had no idea how to make it better. I was so sure that this woman would be able to help me, but instead she looked at me in near-disgust and said “I can’t handle this” and then she left the room. 

When she came back a moment later, she informed me that she was having me hospitalized. I was terrified.

Many things happened after this event, but I will not go into detail about them now. Perhaps in the future, as those events become more relevant to my journey, I will recount those memories. But, for now, what is important is how this traumatic experience has shaped me for over a decade, in ways that I didn’t even realize until just a few days ago.

I have such an intense fear of being vulnerable, of being completely transparent about my feelings, for fear of being too much, or not being taken seriously. I often fear that nobody will believe me because I have kept my true feelings hidden for so long, so these immense emotions of despair and hopelessness and pain and fear will seem new and I am terrified that my loved ones will think I am making it all up in some sort of scheme to garner attention and sympathy.

This fear of being misunderstood or perceived as too much or as inauthentic, I now understand, stem from that first experience I had with being truly vulnerable. All I ever knew about being vulnerable was that it was too much and would not get me the help I needed, so I quickly learned to hide it and pretend to be fine so that I wouldn’t be a burden to those I loved. That first therapist telling me she couldn’t handle my emotions, the look she gave me, had permanently damaged my ability to be vulnerable and has led me to this point where I am a young adult who is too afraid to express the extent of my struggles for fear of being cast out by those I love most.

While I feel immense pain over this realization, I also feel a strong resolve to move forward with vulnerability and honesty, regardless of how uncomfortable I may feel. I know that to move forward and to truly heal, I must overcome this obstacle. I am lucky enough to have a support system who will be there for me through it all, even in my moments of doubt and fear. I know that, with their love and support, I can get through this and everything else I encounter along the way. Even in the moments when I may doubt these truths, I know that they will carry me when I cannot carry myself.

[silvernmusings]

Part I : Death of the Girl

I have died.

Gone is the girl who hid from her darkness, parading in a fake light.

I am to be a woman of shadows, ready to face my demons and embrace my sorrow.

Too long have I fled from the reality of what lies within myself. Too long have I lied, to myself and my loved ones, for the sake of not being burdensome.

I am ready now. To confront the raging storm within myself, to learn from it and to grow, to hopefully come out triumphant on the other side.

I am ready to crawl back to life through the depths of my soul.

I will be reborn.