Recently, as in the last few months, I was diagnosed with a mood disorder. Shock. I was in utter shock. So much so, I dropped my coffee all over my psychiatrists nice rug. OCD, anxiety, depression- these were all diagnoses I could handle, heck, even expected. But a mood disorder... Undergoing multiple medication changes, increased counseling, and endless ups and downs, I'm still in shock, denial, and overwhelmed. I'm utterly overwhelmed. I've had endless questions about my own sanity. I've loathed my own brain, and told myself over and over to just get through college and then seek help. I did just that. I graduated college (somehow) and started counseling a week later. Now I'm going through the "you should have gotten help sooner." "Why didn't my doctor listen to my concerns when I was 15?" "Is this my fault?" "Am I making all this up?" The irony in all those questions is that I'm living this. This is my life and even I am doubting my own struggles; my own mental illness. The stigma around mental illness affects even me. "My struggles aren't that bad. I should just snap out of this." The thing is, I haven't been able to "just snap out of this" for 10+ years. I've tried yoga, eating healthier, essential oils, meditation, running, and even just plain counseling. None of these were helping. Medication. I started to accept that the next step might be medication. I approached my doctor and was prescribed depression medication. "Okay, perfect, that should fix things for me." It didn't. One frantic phone call to my counselor (after months of counseling). One emergency counseling session, and suddenly, my counselor is expressing concern over my meds. I'm seeing my counselor three times in one week, calling to schedule an appointment with a psychiatrist, and having an emergency appointment with my doctor. Mood disorder and OCD. Those were my diagnoses after an hour and a half sitting on a couch, telling a very nice stranger every secret, every horrible thought, that plagues my mind. My psychiatrist looked at me, after we cleaned up my spilt coffee, and told me seriously, "I promise you aren't crazy." Tears. So many tears. Finally, answers. I had answers. I wasn't crazy. My brain really wasn't working correctly. This was all in my head, but I wasn't making it up. My struggles, they were real. They didn't excuse some of my actions over the years, but there was some kind of explanation. The euphoria and relief I experienced after my session with my psychiatrist was short lived. I resented having to take more meds. I resented that I wasn't just "fixed." My gut churned because I quickly realized my struggles we far from over. Reality hit and I realized my "journey" was just starting. Adding a mood disorder... what did that even mean? "I don't want to do this." I have said those words countless times to my counselor as we lay on the floor eating chocolate. Since my diagnosis, I have had 2 emergency counseling sessions with my counselor to discuss suicide, always followed by a call from my psychiatrist to problem solve. I have argued, cried, and hugged my counselor so many times as she patiently helps me through each leg of this journey. I have apologized and felt guilt and shame that I'm not better yet. I went to counseling with the expectation of being better after a few months. Hahaha. Nope. A few days ago, I over heard people discussing whether or not suicide was illegal and the repercussions that occur when someone is caught trying to commit suicide. An emergency psych evaluation and 72 hours detainment in a psychiatric ward. That's what tends to occur when some attempts suicide. I listened as these people laughed and argued if that means it's illegal. Suicide isn't a joke and it's hardly ever a choice. To say someone "committed suicide" is very misleading. No one commits suicide. Their brain, it betrays them and tells them that dying is a better option than living. If someone attempts or succeeds with suicide, it's not because they think it'll get them attention. At times, it might be a cry for help, but usually it's the last resort to escape the prison that is their mind. I haven't attempted suicided, but I've been tempted. I've thought about it more times than I can count. Mental illness and suicide, these things aren't choices. They are so real, and people who are struggling with them- I can't even begin to express how amazing and courageous it is to face this demon that is your own brain. "Shannon, you are impressive. You set your mind to something and you succeed. You should be so proud of everything you've accomplished." Some paraphrasing aside, I have been told these exact words by multiple people. I'll be honest, I have no idea how I got here. How I graduated high school, didn't flunk out of college, or how I was accepted into grad school. I honestly don't. I didn't try, I simply let people tell me what to do. I really thought I'd be dead a long time ago, and as a result, I stop caring. I stopped living and became a shell of a person. Each time someone praised my accomplishments, I retreated further into my own miserable cocoon. For being 24, I am in some ways proud of where I am. I'm not dead, I've grown closer to my family, and I finally asked for help. I am beyond blessed that I get to go to grad school. I'm in shock as to how I didn't fuck up my life. So here's a shout out, a reality check, to say even those who "have it together" can be fighting a very real battle. Here's a reminder that mental illness is real and doesn't discriminate against anyone. I hate that this is my story. I hate that I wanted to break down crying because people still don't get it. This, this thing, that goes on with my brain, isn't a choice. My own misery isn't made up to get attention. I'm terrified that this post will bring pity, judgment, or will change how people see me; but more than anything, I'm hopeful. I'm done having a stigma against myself and I'm done pretending that these aren't very real things. Hiding, pretending, and denying that I'm mentally ill isn't going to make it better; and maybe, just maybe, I can give someone else hope, too. So, for now, I'm going to try my hardest to be here. To be present. To keep moving forward. And above all, I'm going to have hope.
