#sanitycheck

they say it was all just...

...my imagination.

Am I the Monster?

Time Capsule of Coping in 2020. New sketchbook comic

I will be alright. Everything is going to be fine. I promise.

At least that’s what I kept trying to tell myself. I had to. It had to be okay.

That’s how I got through 3 years of turbulent ups and downs and falling deeper into a debilitating anxiety disorder that seemed to be triggered by my miscarriage.

I was 16 when I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I wanted to do all I could to avoid being dependent on pharmaceuticals. I’d experienced my mother going through a terrible time trying to stop taking Paxil and I didn’t want to go through that. I wanted to find other ways to deal with my disorder. I did a decent job most of the time. In fact, I don’t think many people even knew I was bipolar. It pretty much only impacted my romantic relationships and very close friendships.

I can point to exact times in my life when I knew I’d been depressed and even more times when I knew I’d been in pretty serious manic episodes. It was usually after a huge life change. It seemed like my body’s way of adapting to something new. However, I can’t pinpoint any of these episodes since being married.

I wasn’t sure if my symptoms were less noticeable in a more stable state or if I had somehow outgrown my disorder. I even wondered if Mike had somehow helped me overcome it. But I never really knew why...

Turns out, it had warped into General Anxiety Disorder. I had never experienced a true panic attack before the miscarriage. Suddenly, they were part of my daily life.

I assumed that once I was able to grieve properly and recover from the tragedy, that my anxiety would fade. However, it only seemed to get worse after Xander was born. It didn’t help that shortly after that I unexpectedly lost my job at Xbox while on maternity leave due to the position being eliminated.

This was my dream job. I had left a very stable, comfortable position in something I was very good at to pursue this seemingly perfect for me job. Everyone told me to take this job, even though I was 6 months pregnant. Even though I was on a brand new team for a brand new role with untred territory. I’d worked for 6 years to get into a position like this one. I had to do all I could for this job.

And just like that… it was gone.  

On top of that, Mike was all set up to be a stay-at-home dad, so we had no source of income or insurance for our newborn baby.

The next day Trump was elected.

Let’s just say, that was a miserable week for my emotions. Could I ever feel happy again? I’d look at my son and feel happy enough not to worry.

It wasn’t too long before Mike found some remote work and I was hired at GTS. I had to take a substantial pay cut for this career move, but there were a lot of perks to consider and huge potential for growth. I assumed everything was coming together again and that my emotions would soon follow.

Adjusting to being a working mom was easier than I expected, but still very hard. However, feedback at work was telling me that I was really good at this job. I poured myself into it, taking trips to visit stores, sometimes doing work on weekends, trying to fit the role I never expected to fit. And I liked it. I loved the stores I worked with, and while there were challenging days, overall I felt happy.

As things always do in corporate jobs, things changed. There were some changes for the new year, including a pay cut. I had just switched to commision and was barely making my base salary. Luckily, by this time Mike had gotten a really great job and Xander was loving daycare. I thought it would be okay to make less than I’d ever made if I kept being happy. Was I happy though? I was stressed all the time, always thinking about work, always being completely exhausted from motherhood, trying to maintain so many things every day.

I would look at my life, and outside of raising Xander, I didn’t feel like I was doing anything truly fulfilling. What had happened to my creativity? When was the last time I’d written something? When was the last time I sang a new song? What would 16-year-old dreamer me think of where I was?

I was a good mom. That was the most fulfilling aspect of my entire life. My true legacy and something I had always wanted. He was perfect.

But don’t I deserve more? I’d feel terrible for thinking it. Like, what’s wrong with me? I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

But I knew that was a lie. I’d always wanted more.

Founding LPS came close to what I wanted to do for this world. It scratched that itch for me for years. But it was so much harder now being a mom. It was so hard dividing my time between LPS, Xander, Mike, work, family, friends, and (OMG do I dare think it?) myself! I couldn’t do as much for LPS as I used to and I hadn’t been as deeply involved in a long time. It’s just... different when I can’t go every week. Or maybe it’s different because I’ve been doing it for so long and I’m ready to move on to my next big fulfilling project.

But then I found out that I’d be going to GAMA, representing GTS. Maybe I could find my next project through GTS. Maybe it will be at the other end of the show. I felt honored to be selected. While at the show, I networked until 4am, getting up at 7am to be on time to have a few minutes of breakfast with my team. I became close friends with some other GTS employees while at the show who wanted to work with me more. I was excited for those opportunities. What more could I do with this great company?

Within a few weeks, I was in talks with the marketing department. I was told that I had all the skills that they were looking for. It sounded like a role I’d be good at. One I’d get to finally be creative full-time, something I’d never really gotten to try.

But they wanted someone who could travel. A lot.

I suddenly felt like I was suffocating under the choice between this amazing opportunity or being with my son on weekends.

I couldn’t do that.

I didn’t get the job. But I was still in sales. Yay? I didn’t know how to feel. I was barely making enough to pay for daycare on my worst months. I was literally working in order to pay to be away from my son all week. To do a job that I liked, but that I wasn’t really passionate about. Looking at the paychecks was scary. Everything felt scary. Like weirdly scary.

Car rides alone could cause anxiety attacks. And I had to do a lot of driving since Mike was commuting to Seattle and kicking serious ass at his new job. But I couldn’t keep going on like this.

The anxiety was unbelievable. I couldn’t see into my life. I couldn’t define what it was that I wanted. That too was scary. All I saw was being a good mom, but what else was I… good at? What was I passionate about besides my family? Had I lost my defining characteristic of passion? This thought alone could send me into a racing heart and tension headache. This was anxiety. But I didn’t understand it. I’d never felt this before.

I needed help. I couldn’t take off time from work for therapy. I couldn’t find a therapist outside of work hours. The anxiety had gotten worse. I experienced a 20-day headache. I went to the doctor… where I was first diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder. I scheduled 6 appointments with therapists. I took time off work to go. I started to take medication for the first time in my life. I had very little PTO for anything. I worked every hour I could to make up for it. I got worse before getting better. I took a medical leave.

On medical leave, I felt like I was seeing for the first time in… years? I would find true happiness in the littlest of things. Xander’s shoes, the smell of his hair, the cat following me around at 1am while I stayed up writing.

I was still passionate. I was still that dreamer. I was still defined by passion. I found passion in my story. I had found my project. It had been in front of me this entire time.

The project I’ve been wanting to finish for over 15 years. Over half of my life.

I looked at my life goals and realized I’d followed the biggest one already by having an amazing partner and child to share my life with. But what was next for me?

Why had I spent 3 years writing instead of having a social life as a teenager? Why had I studied for 4 years with no sleep to obtain a degree in Creative Writing? Why could these characters I created so long ago never once leave my mind? I could see their faces as clearly as the day I created them, drawn mediocrely on lined paper with colored pencils. Now created in every game that has a built-in character creator. Each person that I’d given deep back stories and interesting character arcs, with development far beyond what you’d think a boy-crazy, 14-year-old, awkward, opinionated girl obsessed with video games would be capable of.

I had to follow my dreams. It would never be the right time. “I have to do this before I turn 30,” I thought. As though I’d be able to inform that 14-year-old girl that her hard work would get published before she turns 30. High five her and let her know she makes a great mom and has a husband who knows how to dance, before flying away on a unicorn. I had to make a change. I approached Mike with the idea. He was fully supportive. He’d been with me on this journey through some rough times and questions like “What do I want to do with my life?” at 2am on random nights when I’d wake him up because I couldn’t sleep. He knew I would be happy pursuing this. He knew I needed happiness again. He knew we’d be okay, no matter what.

I often question my sanity, and sometimes, it responds.

how do i send somthing like this to my best friend without him not blocking tf outta me

ps. im not in love w him or anything, but i just think he deserves better