Let me just begin this section below the cut by saying that one of the reasons why I ever started to RP years ago in the first place was because it gave me some place to escape to.. It gave me something to put my mind to when reality was getting to be far too much to handle. Maybe that's been part of the problem. I'm 22 years old now, and I can't keep on running.

For some years now (and by years, I really mean yeeeears), I have had some mental health problems. It all started when I was twelve years old, or at least that's the best I can guess. It all probably started because of bullying. Nonstop, constant bullying. I have thick skin, but even thick skin can wear thin.

I wasn't okay, but I had some really great people for friends. They were my safety net. They kept me sane. They gave me a reason to stay.. And I thought that would always be enough.

I was fooling myself. I always fool myself. I have stretches of time where I'll actually be okay, and nothing can get me down. At some point, it becomes me basically tricking myself into believing I am-- even though at some point in time, I started crumbling. I just denied myself the ability to notice or realize it.

I was a junior in high school in spring 2008, just shy of seventeen, when I finally reached out for help by asking my guidance counselor to help me talk to my parents about getting serious help. I landed my family in counseling, in addition to my parents being told back then to get me a therapist. The family counseling only happened because the school nurse made sure that that much was done at the very least. They never got me a therapist. I was left to my own devices, even after they'd been told I was physically harming myself. They were told twice. Nothing was ever done. I had to find a way to make myself stop.

Let's fast forward a bit. Just know that I eventually fought my way through stopping the self-harm. I'd been working, and that may be the only reason why I did stop-- for the sake of not having to hide my arms. I'm not sure how I've managed to stay free of it since no longer working & failing to get myself employed again. Also, just know that I had a long stretch where I thought I was just doing fine. But then I had a bit of a meltdown on the job one day, and it was all downhill from there. I had been verbally attacked by a co-worker the morning this happened, and the co-worker was never properly reprimanded for his actions or anything-- despite the public humiliation & me having a major panic attack that lasted three hours... And having to get back to work once I had "calmed down."

I haven't been working since October 2011 (about a year after the verbal attack happened to me), mind you.This is because I simply just stopped showing up to work because I had a serious mental breakdown and a half. Things had not been going well in the work place, it was stressing me out, I'd been screwed out of a proper raise in my hourly wage due to someone else's massive fuck up, despite me going above and beyond my duties as an employee, and I'd been having mini panic attacks while just driving to work, and even more during my shifts. I couldn't take it anymore, and I dropped off the face of the earth. No one ever knew what happened to me. One person contacted me to see if I was okay. All they got was a "no; I'm not well. that's all i can say, other than it's deeply personal & i'm trying to get help." 

It took me two months, a relative speaking up to my father not getting me the help I need when he'd been through something similar, nothing being done to get me help, and then a former co-worker flipping shit on him for me to finally get help finding a therapist.

I've been going to therapy for two and a half years, just about... And I haven't gotten much better. I made some progress.. Baby steps, and I was okay with that. Then my car accident happened (after just beginning to get some sort of an income coming in, working off the radar for the sake of untaxed pay for a while, until I could find a real paying job), miraculously not getting myself and three friends killed- even if it wasn't my fault, I still felt responsible as the driver. In addition to anxiety, panic attacks, and possibly depression & bi-polar being an expressed concern/possibility... I was told I have a touch of PTSD, and I'll possibly be living with that for the rest of my life. (Yes, the accident was THAT bad.) 

Despite the events of 2013 (and believe me, I'm giving the shortened story), I thought I was managing rather well. I'd been lying to myself. I started to realize this ever so slowly, thanks to a number of signs that have happened repeatedly since age 15 when I started to get really bad:

the random knots in my stomach

random tightness in my chest

the god-awful moodswings from hell

feeling miserable out of absolutely nowhere

being insulted or hurt by things not even directed toward me

racing thoughts at night

spontaneous bouts of what felt like insomnia

going from having a mildly acceptable sleeping schedule to suddenly not being able to sleep, or i end up staying up for 24hrs at a time or until i'm so exhausted i'm in physical pain before i can finally fall asleep

Then there's the fact that I can't even distract myself or put my mind to RPing, because my mind and emotions are so all over the placed and frazzled that I can't even focus on distracting myself from anything other than the manic state I'm in.

The list goes on. I always miss something.. But I'll just start wanting to bawl my eyes out for no reason sometimes. Other times, I can peg a reason. I've been a total emotional wreck, and when I realize that I'm not okay, and that I'd been kidding myself for any amount of time... Then I really start to lose it.. To the point I start absolutely freaking the fuck out all the more, convinced that I've finally gone completely insane.

I finally broke to the point of no return it seems. For the first time in several years, I've been at war with myself over not inflicting any sort of harm upon myself. I've had other times where I've felt the urge, but never before have I felt my arms spasm because the urge was so bad. 

And finally, one of my breakdowns lined up to the point that I had to call my therapist in hopes that I could get in to see her or at least talk to her on the phone. Fortunately, there were friends present when this happened, and they were able to keep my mind occupied to get through the day. I was so emotionally exhausted that getting through the day was physically painful and just as exhausting. Because I'd tried to get in touch with my therapist, there was no avoiding the subject of what happened the next day when my actual appointment was. 

Spilling all of that left her almost speechless and floored, because I'd seemingly been doing relatively okay. I had to explain this whole denial thing that I do to myself.

This leads me to why I may or may not disappear, or my activity on any and all of my accounts may be especially inconsistent compared to usual.

After all this time, and thanks to my massive episode stretching over the course of weeks now, I may soon be able to know what the hell is wrong with me. I've done several job applications despite how badly I freak out over the thought of not getting a job (I've had nothing but failed attempts, except for an off the books job I had to leave because of all of my injuries courtesy of my accident), I have to follow through, score some interviews & score at least one job out of whatever I get, and see what happens. 

Come February, I'll be seeing a psychiatrist to figure out if I need to be medicated for depression. I can deal with the highs I have, but it's the lows that bring me to the brink of insanity... And each time I hit a rock bottom state, it gets increasingly worse and worse to the point I feel sick and don't eat for days. It's just not healthy.

I need to focus on myself. I can't keep running to fictional realms whenever life gets to be too much. I've never thought of myself as being a coward, and it's starting to get to the point where I'm viewing myself as one for lying to myself, for hiding in fictional worlds. I have to get my life back in order, because I've let myself spiral out of control.