Maybe I’m the problem. In fact I know I am. I have stood in my own way for years now, telling myself I’m trying to get better, be better, live the life I want. The truth is, I have stayed comfortably in my comfort zone. I haven’t really pushed myself in years. For the past year or so I’ve thought that it’s been for my own good, my own protection. That if I just give myself time I’ll heal. I think that time has run out. I think anything at this point is just pushing me further and further away from what I actually want.
I know that not everything has been directly my fault. There have been outside circumstances beyond my control. My extreme reaction to Lexapro and the subsequent withdrawal, the financial troubles that plagued my family, having so many people in my life die. I’ve used all of these situations like armor, holding them close to me and shielding myself from any additional feelings of discomfort.
The thing is, I feel more discomfort than ever. By consciously and subconsciously protecting myself from any experiences that I conceive as negative, I’ve gotten to the point in my life where the things that once brought me comfort just remind me of everything that I’m missing. I want more for and from my life. Like most people I want to be fulfilled, I want to experience joy, I want to be creative and I want to love and be loved in turn. How can I expect any of this though when I sit in my house, too scared to do anything differently?
I don’t know if my situation is unusual, it certainly isn’t normal. I’m 27 and live with my mom and brother. I moved home three years ago after a nervous breakdown and stayed after a series of events led my aunt to be sick, and me wanting to help take care of her. Immediately after, my dad went into the hospital and died 5 months later. My mom lost her job, and is in a staggering amount of debt. I had an extreme reaction to the SSRI Lexapro and subsequent withdrawal that I had been taking for years that led me to the absolute lowest point in my life last fall. I couldn’t be alone, I took a leave of absence at work, and I couldn’t drive anywhere. To be honest I couldn’t function without my mom. I wasn’t a functioning member of society, and had such bad intrusive thoughts that at multiple points I thought going to a mental health hospital was the only option. If it wasn’t for my mom doing everything within her power to be there for me I would have ended up in a hospital. My younger brother moved home to help my mom and I out financially and emotionally, and ever since then I have been functioning, but just barely.
I don’t say any of that as an excuse, but more of an understanding of my own behavior. I had immense emotional upheaval in my life for months on end, and I reacted very poorly. To this day it is still difficult for me to be alone, I can barely drive anywhere and if I do it is within a five minute radius of my house. I fear that I will never return to being a functioning adult ever again. That is my worst nightmare, my biggest fear- that life will not get better than this and I will be stuck and dependent on all those around me while only daydreaming of a life I want.
But I can’t give up, something inside of me is refusing to let the fear completely take over. I realize that all of the events that have taken place might not be my fault, but how I reacted to them certainly was. In my spiral downward last fall I stopped eating healthy, I stopped exercising, I stopped being interested in anything that used to hold my attention. I let myself get lost in fantasy and romance books to distract myself from what was going on in my own world. I still maintained and succeeded at my job, but it wasn’t and isn’t fulfilling in any way. I stopped pushing myself. I stopped believing in myself.
And that is my fault.
The argument could be made that by going through so many life altering events I was bound to have some sort of negative reaction and spiral. I reject that train of thinking. I ignored signs from my body, I didn’t take care of myself, and I treated myself as if I didn’t matter.
It has almost been a year since being in the throes of the darkest time of my life. Since then I have successfully come off of all SSRI’s and antidepressant medications and only take an antihistamine that helps to subdue my intrusive thoughts. I fought for years to be in the place that I am today. Going through absolute hell trying to taper off medications, spending hours researching how and spending hundreds and hundreds of dollars on doctors. Now that I’m in the place I always wanted to be at, what am I doing? Not a damn thing. Sitting here on a Saturday evening for the hundredth weekend in a row with no plans. Getting “one more” sweet treat from the grocery store, having my mom or brother go with me anywhere I need to go because I am unable to drive on my own and unwilling to push past the discomfort.
So yes, I am the problem in my life. And I think it’s time I take some accountability. Even though I don’t believe I have a very wide reaching audience, it’s humiliating to write all of my lackings and failures for the world to see. It’s necessary though. Humility, picking myself up by the bootstraps, and stopping the “I’ll start tomorrow” mentality that plagues me might just be one part of the puzzle in how I can start trending upwards in life.
It is my sincerest hope that I can come back to this post in a year, two years, ten years, and look at it as the jumping board for starting fresh and no longer being the problem in my own life. For everyone who is going through something similar, it’s time to make ourselves proud again.
