This is a lengthy and
personal post. It’s taken me a long time to finish this. I am by no means
recovered from my anxiety, self harm or depression, but I’m on the right track.
I haven’t relapsed with self harm for almost 2 years, but recovering fully is a
long process. Also, everyone’s experiences with therapy, medicine and other
helpful tools to recover or ease any kind of mental illness can be
very different, so this
is NOT a guide on how to recover.
____________________________________________________________________________
When I was 14 I had this weird experience. It was like my lungs collapsed, my heart was about to jump out of my throat, everything went blurry and it scared me a fuck ton. I didn’t think more of it, and I wasn’t planning on telling anyone about it. It got worse, I was scared of everyone, I stopped going out with friends, I was skipping school more and more, and I wouldn’t even go to family events. I would over think every single little thing, got physically sick if plans suddenly changed - if anything changed. I let it eat me up for far too long. It wasn’t until I was 17 I knew what I was experiencing. It was anxiety. And the weird experiences? Panic attacks. I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh, yet another thing wrong with me but it was a relief to know I wasn’t the only one feeling like this.
I opened up to my mum, who then talked to my teacher and doctor because we needed to do something about this. I decided to go away to a ”free school” (Højskole) to work on my anxiety and fear of meeting people. It was hell and heaven all at once. I made friends and I was coming out of my shell. But then I started on a new school and I was back to isolating myself. For 2 years I was trapped in my room, I was trapped in myself. No one knew what to do with me, no one knew how to help me. In my short life time I’ve had around 7-9 different therapists and doctors and other clever people who promised to help me, but I always ended in the same dark hole.
But then something changed. I’ve been on this journey for a few years now, trying to get accepted into getting a gastric bypass. The doctors were - understandably - worried about my mental health because I had a history with self-harming. And for some reason, when he explained his worries about my self-harming issues I thought ”This is not a way to handle feelings”. This sentence has been so important on my journey to feeling better.
I talked to my support system, and we all agreed on trying to find a therapist for me. My mum took on the task to find one that would be good for me, because after all she knows how to handle me best. But the catch was that we would be unable to get financial support from these highly qualified people, so we had to seek elsewhere. My mum works in the psychiatry department at the hospital next town, and she recently went to a meeting with a therapist/nurse and they clicked. I had to go through a ”sorting” with a doctor, basically to find a diagnosis so the therapist and I could make a treatment plan.
I started therapy in August 2014. I talked to her once a week for 4 months, and it was hard. It was hard opening up to yet another person who claimed to be able to help me, it was hard realising my problems, it was hard realising my life had to change, because even though I felt like shit, it was safe and known. It was hard to accept that even I deserve to feel good about myself and my life. But I fucking deserve to feel great, I fucking deserve to love myself.
She taught me so many things, how to change the way I was thinking and feeling about myself, letting go of the overthinking and ignore the feeling of everyone staring at me and thinking bad things about me. I was taught different tools of how to calm down during panic attacks and how to handle situations where the anxiety would make me stay away instead of trying. After 2 months of therapy she decided to put me on some medication to help boost my mood, because I naturally don’t produce enough endorphin. I’ve been on Citalopram for almost 5 months now and I have never been so stable (mood wise and emotional) in my entire life.
Along with therapy I had to learn how to be around people again. In October 2014 I started in a little group project with 3 others who had a difficult time being social and being around people. I met an amazing girl who I got along with well, but it wasn’t a big enough challenge. So in December 2014 I was put in a larger group. We were 10 total plus the guy who runs the project. It was hard, I started a week later than the others because Sean was there for a visit, I was afraid everyone had already gotten along and I would be the odd one out. But to my surprise, I fit right in. I’ve learnt so much being with these people, not only that being with new people isn’t as scary, but also accepting other peoples’ and my own flaws and that they are a part of who we are and that there are people out there who wants the best for me - just like I wish all the best for them.
It is now 2015. I haven’t had a panic attack or extreme mood swings for 4 months. I’m confident, I’m hopeful, I’m happy and have the energy to think about school in August. I’ve found out what I want to do with my life, I’m not as scared of meeting people any more, I can go to town and shop on my fucking own, I’m not scared of being home alone, I can talk to people. I am moving forward. And it has been and is an incredibly scary process, but it’s exciting. I have a long way to go, but it’s okay. Because I deserve to be happy, I deserve a life without constant pain and fear. I am worthy. I am Malle, and I wouldn’t want be anyone else.
When I was 14 I had this weird experience. It was like my lungs collapsed, my heart was about to jump out of my throat, everything went blurry and it scared me a fuck ton. I didn’t think more of it, and I wasn’t planning on telling anyone about it. It got worse, I was scared of everyone, I stopped going out with friends, I was skipping school more and more, and I wouldn’t even go to family events. I would over think every single little thing, got physically sick if plans suddenly changed - if anything changed. I let it eat me up for far too long. It wasn’t until I was 17 I knew what I was experiencing. It was anxiety. And the weird experiences? Panic attacks. I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh, yet another thing wrong with me but it was a relief to know I wasn’t the only one feeling like this.
I opened up to my mum, who then talked to my teacher and doctor because we needed to do something about this. I decided to go away to a ”free school” (Højskole) to work on my anxiety and fear of meeting people. It was hell and heaven all at once. I made friends and I was coming out of my shell. But then I started on a new school and I was back to isolating myself. For 2 years I was trapped in my room, I was trapped in myself. No one knew what to do with me, no one knew how to help me. In my short life time I’ve had around 7-9 different therapists and doctors and other clever people who promised to help me, but I always ended in the same dark hole.
But then something changed. I’ve been on this journey for a few years now, trying to get accepted into getting a gastric bypass. The doctors were - understandably - worried about my mental health because I had a history with self-harming. And for some reason, when he explained his worries about my self-harming issues I thought ”This is not a way to handle feelings”. This sentence has been so important on my journey to feeling better.
I talked to my support system, and we all agreed on trying to find a therapist for me. My mum took on the task to find one that would be good for me, because after all she knows how to handle me best. But the catch was that we would be unable to get financial support from these highly qualified people, so we had to seek elsewhere. My mum works in the psychiatry department at the hospital next town, and she recently went to a meeting with a therapist/nurse and they clicked. I had to go through a ”sorting” with a doctor, basically to find a diagnosis so the therapist and I could make a treatment plan.
I started therapy in August 2014. I talked to her once a week for 4 months, and it was hard. It was hard opening up to yet another person who claimed to be able to help me, it was hard realising my problems, it was hard realising my life had to change, because even though I felt like shit, it was safe and known. It was hard to accept that even I deserve to feel good about myself and my life. But I fucking deserve to feel great, I fucking deserve to love myself.
She taught me so many things, how to change the way I was thinking and feeling about myself, letting go of the overthinking and ignore the feeling of everyone staring at me and thinking bad things about me. I was taught different tools of how to calm down during panic attacks and how to handle situations where the anxiety would make me stay away instead of trying. After 2 months of therapy she decided to put me on some medication to help boost my mood, because I naturally don’t produce enough endorphin. I’ve been on Citalopram for almost 5 months now and I have never been so stable (mood wise and emotional) in my entire life.
Along with therapy I had to learn how to be around people again. In October 2014 I started in a little group project with 3 others who had a difficult time being social and being around people. I met an amazing girl who I got along with well, but it wasn’t a big enough challenge. So in December 2014 I was put in a larger group. We were 10 total plus the guy who runs the project. It was hard, I started a week later than the others because Sean was there for a visit, I was afraid everyone had already gotten along and I would be the odd one out. But to my surprise, I fit right in. I’ve learnt so much being with these people, not only that being with new people isn’t as scary, but also accepting other peoples’ and my own flaws and that they are a part of who we are and that there are people out there who wants the best for me - just like I wish all the best for them.
It is now 2015. I haven’t had a panic attack or extreme mood swings for 4 months. I’m confident, I’m hopeful, I’m happy and have the energy to think about school in August. I’ve found out what I want to do with my life, I’m not as scared of meeting people any more, I can go to town and shop on my fucking own, I’m not scared of being home alone, I can talk to people. I am moving forward. And it has been and is an incredibly scary process, but it’s exciting. I have a long way to go, but it’s okay. Because I deserve to be happy, I deserve a life without constant pain and fear. I am worthy. I am Malle, and I wouldn’t want be anyone else.
