Everyday, a sick feeling twisted in my stomach. It felt like boy scouts were learning how to tie knots, but with my intestines. That was my first experience with anxiety, or my first physical side affect of it. From ages 11-14, every day that I woke up to go to school, there would be an instant stomach ache. As I started high school, the status of my mental health floated to the back of my mind. I convinced myself that because I switched to a new school, it was only right that I cry every morning. Sophomore year was different. That fall, I experienced my first depressive episode. I stopped turning in my work, only talked to two friends, had more conflict with my family, and I stopped taking care of myself. The first wave of the COVID pandemic saved me. School ended early, and that summer was mostly spent at home, or with a few friends masked outside. I needed a break from everything, and thats what the isolation gave me. However, that didn't last long. An extrovert by nature, as my junior year started, I began to long for in person contact again, and going back to school. But I didn't. I stayed online the entirety of my junior year, and that took a huge toll on me. I stopped getting out of bed. I didn't change my clothes. I barely left my house. Simple tasks were hard for me. I barely ate. I threw myself into a really personal experience when I was at my lowest. The relationship that I decided to partake in made everything worse. My quality of life plummeted, I experienced great loss, and I begged my parents for help. They are very supportive, but just didn't understand why I should start therapy. I kept nagging them about it, and then, on June 16, 2021, I arrived at Meadowlark Psychiatry to have my first appointment. I realized quickly that all the healing I needed to do wasn't going to happen in a linear process. Some weeks it felt like each session got harder, while other times I would feel 100% fine. As senior year started, my physical health became the worst it ever had. I was throwing up multiple times per day, suffering from awful headaches, and I wasn't sleeping. I barley drank water, and ate maybe once a day. I knew that this wasn't because I had the flu, or loss of appetite. I knew it was because I suffered from anxiety. My therapist talked to me about how I might have Borderline Personality Disorder, and referred me to a psychiatrist. As I read the description of BPD, I felt heard. This is how my brain had been functioning my whole life, I was ecstatic to meet with a doctor, and receive a diagnosis. This might seem odd, but I felt that hearing those official words would help me find a treatment. But, during the appointment I learned quickly that I did not have BPD. It felt great to know that because why would I want to have that? But then, what do I deal with everyday? I was put on anxiety medications, and diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Depression. I was happy to receive some answers, but still confused. The doctor explained to me that I am just an emotionally intense person, but that doesn't mean I have a personality disorder. My journey to receiving mental health treatment has been confusing. I have felt very alone most days, and have seen no end in sight. But things will get better. I have a therapist, medication, and people who truly love me. I know that one day I will be able to feel completely content and happy, and even if that day doesn't come soon, it will eventually. I am thankful for the opportunity to see professionals, and that my parents are willing to pay for it. I realize that I am very privileged. Although I have experienced some very awful things this past year, I know that those situations have showed me that I can handle anything. I do wake up with a pain each day. But its not as bad as it was, and I still show up. I have started attending school more regularly, and I have been a lot happier. This pain that affects me, I can learn to manage. I am definitely still in the hard part of it, but if I want it to get better, I need to keep reminding myself of how strong I am.
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