My brain works great when I present stuff in list or outline format, so that’s what I’m going to do to start with.

These are the mental illnesses I live with every single day:

Dermatillomania

Generalized Anxiety Disorder

Major Depression Disorder

OCD

Trichotillomania

A couple of these may seem unfamiliar to folks, and there are definitely preconceived notions about all of them, so I’ll share a little bit about what they look like for me in another section.

My family/personal history that contributes to my mental health:

Alcoholism (namely family members, but I bordered on becoming an alcoholic before I was 21)

Emotional abuse / gaslighting

Involvement in a cult

Loss of family members

Neglect (namely medical)

Other shit I’m not quite comfortable talking about in a public setting

What these mental illnesses look like for me:

Dermatillomania: It means I like picking at my skin, particularly recently acquired cuts or wounds. For me, my brain likes to make myself bleed, and it perceives that feeling, that pain, as good.

Generalized Anxiety Disorder: I worry about things and blow them out of proportion. Worst case scenarios are easy for me to imagine, and I overthink just about everything. Big surprises, the unknown, and anything outside of my control can make me panic.

Major Depressive Disorder: I’m tired a lot, and I often have trouble focusing or concentrating for long periods of time. Small things like putting something away takes extra effort, and I’ll often lose interest in things I normally enjoy. Since I was at least thirteen years old, I’ve also experienced thoughts of self-harm and suicide.

OCD: This links back to my anxiety, and it’s connected to the derma/trich stuff. I don’t do well when I don’t know something, or there’s any sort of uncertainty. I need things to be done in a certain way, and often in a certain order, or my brain will figuratively set itself on fire. I also need things organized in a specific way, or I get the same result. That’s the obsessive part. The compulsive part comes from following a somewhat strict routine along with counting in specific patterns, arranging my stuff in specific ways, and stuff like that.

Trichotillomania: Similar to the dermatillomania, but with hair. Often without thinking, I’ll pull my hair out. Sometimes, I do it purposefully because my brain thinks it helps with anxiety. This has also led to me having general issues when it comes to my hair in general.

What that family/personal history looked like for me:

Alcoholism: A lot of people in my family, including both parents, are alcoholics. They consume a lot of alcohol. I was pressured to start drinking alcohol when I was around 13-14 years old. When I was in my late teens, I would drink just to make myself feel better. Due to my intense fear of throwing up, though, I never let myself progress past tipsy. I don’t drink any alcohol now due to my medications and the knowledge that I could easily fall into alcoholism.

Emotional abuse: This is wide-ranging and extensive, honestly, and gaslighting was a huge part of it. What I’m going to do instead is link some things that explain what I lived with for most of my life. With this article from PsychCentral, I can check off every single thing on that list. This link from womenshealth.gov also covers what I dealt with.

Involvement in a cult: Insert nervous laughter. Starting around the end of middle school to the start of high school, my parents started getting involved in a cult that centers itself on therapy and self-help with some spiritual elements. Therapy through them was the only way to get help, or it wasn’t valid. My family is still involved in this cult, and I managed to get myself out of it when I moved back in 2013.

Loss of family members: In 2005, I suddenly lost my godfather, my dad’s brother. I saw him as more of a father than my biological dad, especially considering he curbed or otherwise acted as a buffer for my dad’s abusive behavior. In 2011, I lost my paternal grandmother, someone I was incredibly close to and trusted more than my parents. She also helped curb my parents’ abusive behavior, and her house was a safe place for me to go.

Neglect: I’ve said this before when talking about my epilepsy, but I was not allowed to go to doctors. Any medical issues, which included mental illnesses, I had were my fault, too expensive, inconvenient, or all in my head. It is also my belief that my mother pressured my pediatrician to tell me that my seizures were not neurological when I was sixteen years old. To this day, my parents are still very anti-doctor and borderline anti-vax.

Whoo, that was a lot of stuff, and I’m not even done---because of course not. Now, as the last part (I think), I’m going to list some things I do and personality quirks as a result of all this shit.

Confrontation/angry voices scares the ever-loving shit out of me. I shut down. I dissociate. I freeze, or I otherwise try to escape. Sometimes, this will come across as me trying to find ways to change the subject, not saying anything at all, or just agreeing with things because it’s easier.

I cry when people tell me they love me, and I often have to stop myself from saying things like “Thank you”, “Why?”, or asking for further explanation.

I doubt my memory and emotions a lot. To combat this, I keep logs, paper trails, and notes of just about everything. If I remember something that someone else doesn’t, or I have a different emotional response than someone else, I tend to assume the other person is right.

I feel guilty for everything. Somehow, everything becomes my fault, my responsibility, and I have to fix everything. This leads to apologies being my go-to responses for a lot.

I have trouble advocating for myself or saying that I need something. Needing things = bad in my brain.

I info-dump. My brain tells me people should have all of the information possible, so I do it. This includes telling people when I’m going to bed for the night or when I’m going somewhere.

I only feel safe crying when there’s no one else around.

I overthink every single thing I say and type.

I put everything in alphabetical order if possible.

I use writing to cope with feelings and other issues I’m dealing with.

I will listen to sad or otherwise emotional songs over and over again to help me get feelings out.

I will often perceive my issues as “not as bad as what other people deal with” and not talk about them. I’ll downplay what I deal with and shove it under a rug while trying to help others because, otherwise, I’ll feel selfish, self-centered, and attention-seeking.

If I can’t have my bowl of cereal for breakfast in the morning, it has the power to ruin my entire day, and I feel rather silly about it.

Lots of all or nothing and black and white thinking. Perfectionism also plays into this. If I can’t do something right the first time, or if things aren’t done perfectly, my brain will not let it go.

Physical contact without my explicit and verbal consent makes me cringe and feel incredibly uncomfortable. It can get to the point that even the thought of it happening triggers nausea. 

These are explanations for things I do and why I act in certain ways. They are not excuses, and they are things I’m working on to the best of my ability. I’m currently on a wait list to get a new psychologist so I can start going to therapy again since I know I need it. When I had it in the past, it was incredibly helpful and empowering to me. Since about February, my depression started to get worse, especially as I felt like things were falling apart around me. It rises and it falls. Nowadays, it’s just a little worse in the sense that I find shutting down easier, and I struggle to do anything that isn’t a video game.

Mental health is just as important as physical health, and it needs to be acknowledged as such. If sharing what I deal with helps even one person, then I consider it worth it.

That is all. I hope everyone is doing okay. If you’re not, though, that’s okay. It’s okay to not have good days or otherwise not feel physically or mentally okay. One day, that lesson will stick with me on a more permanent basis.

Love,