on taking care of yourself and getting help

over the years, I have seen many inspiring posts on social media about personal experiences with mental illness or psychological disorders. I always love reading these posts because it takes a lot of bravery to talk about personal struggles, especially those of mental illness. and believe me, I know how hard it is to talk about it. I still am not completely comfortable using the term "mental illness" to describe myself. I prefer the term "psychological disorder" because I don't like to think of myself as "sick" or "ill", I feel better looking it as something "out of order". and speaking of disorders, I have 3:

attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD),
generalized anxiety disorder (GAD),
and
seasonal affective disorder (SAD).

I've generally been open about my ADHD. for one thing, it's the most obvious. if you've ever read my blog and noticed how my thoughts jump from one thing to another in no organizational manner whatsoever, this shouldn't surprise you. and I mean, it's even more obvious when you try and have a conversation with me. if I say anything witty or funny at just the right time, just know I didn't spend any time thinking of it. it just came out. that's how my ADHD works, and it can be pretty fun. but it's not fun when I forget what I'm talking about mid sentence, or when I so very courteously interrupt in the middle of a story. or when I'm making dinner, but I forget that I'm making dinner and I remember that my laundry is done, and then on my way to get my laundry, I forget where I'm going and I grab a Diet Coke, and then I come back to my food, and my pasta is boiling over. now, I know this happens to everyone occasionally, but it happens to me a lot. but the point is that I've dealt with ADHD for a long time; I'm the most familiar with it, and it's not hard to notice it, so I can literally say "I have ADHD" to someone and they will usually be like, "oh ya, so that's why you do (any of my ADHD traits)!" and I'm just like "yep!"

but sometimes, it's hard to really talk about it. yes, I can casually mention that I deal with it, or make a joke about it, and people will understand (or pretend to). but when I was a junior in high school, I had to make a presentation about it for my psychology class, and it was hard talking about it in front of all those people. then when I was a senior and took AP psychology, I had to do another presentation about it, but this time I had to do a "case study". and that case study, of course, was me. (and to be honest, it was kinda weird.)

so, after my incredibly long introduction, here is my story. it's not inspirational like all the other posts about mental health, because...ya know. it's me, raw and unfiltered.

I can't remember any time of my life where I haven't made a stupid impulsive decision, or spoke my mind and hurt someone's feelings without meaning to. my parents thought it was "just a phase" and that I would learn not to walk up to people on the playground and take their shovel away that they were digging in the sandbox with. I would mature and learn not to blurt out the first answer that popped into my head in class. but in second grade, my teacher noticed that I had to go to the bathroom a lot, and by a lot, I mean like 4-5 times a day, I would ask to be excused. most of the time, I wouldn't even have to go. I was just tired of sitting in class all day, so when I asked to go to the bathroom, it gave me the opportunity to MOVE. but around this time, I was starting to have stomach aches and be nervous about lots of things that 8 year olds aren't normally nervous about. and I won't go into detail here, because it's pointless and I don't want to talk about it, but they were stupid things. so my parents started to think that I had anxiety, but hoped it was still a phase.

in fourth grade, however, I was still as impulsive as ever and got sent to the principal's office on 3 different occasions, but the only story worth telling is the time I chucked a ball at this girl's face and yelled "BULLSEYE!" and didn't apologize. why I did it, I don't even know. but my parents weren't as concerned about this as they were about my anxiety. I was afraid of so many things that it was making everyday life hard for me. so they took me to see a counselor. but they didn't tell me why I was going to see a counselor, and I was frustrated with them. why did I have to talk to this dude once a week about my life, my motives, and what made me scared? it wasn't helping. and then, I got a diagnosis. it wasn't anxiety, but it was what I thought was "80-HD", like some kind of new TV screen.

(now, imagine how shocked I was when I learned that it meant that I just had a really hard time focusing like a normal person, and that I do stupid impulsive things like throw balls at peoples' faces for no apparent reason.)

long story short, I was medicated and I still had anxiety, but after switching ADHD meds and maturing, the anxiety lessened. I mean, it was still there, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be. or, I just ignored it.

all during this time, I was a lot grumpier in the wintertime. I didn't get excited for Christmas like normal people did, and it wasn't because I hate presents and Christmas music and Jesus's birth, the only 2 reasons I could think of were: all you do is sleep all day, and winter sucks and it's a miserable time. I was more tired, I was less motivated, I had more headaches, I was more anxious, and I cried more. when I was in high school, I got diagnosed with SAD (seasonal affective disorder), which made total sense as to why I was a lot more SAD (hahahahaha GET IT?!) during the winter, and that it was correlated with the lack of sunlight I was receiving. I was told to spend more time around light, take Vitamin D supplements, and exercise regularly.

back to the rest of the story. I took psychology my junior year of high school, and when we learned about anxiety, I felt grateful to know that that part of my life was over. or so I thought. I had unexplained chronic muscle tension, I was a lazy perfectionist (but a perfectionist nonetheless), I always had to drive myself to activities because I was worried that my friends would either be late or forget to give me a ride (or that they would get lost), I hated making plans with other people because I had to know exactly what we were doing and when, and if I ever thought about all the things I needed to do, I would sometimes have a nervous breakdown and just avoid doing it. I wasn't adjusting well to change. whether I liked it or not, the anxiety was back.

but I still told myself that it was no big deal. nothing was a big deal. I'm just a regular person on ADHD medication who also has anxiety and seasonal depression but can manage it by myself. I kept on telling myself that everything was fine. I didn't want help. my father always told me to be tough, and if I were to ask anyone for help, I didn't feel like I was being tough. and since I was going to college, I needed to be an adult. I wasn't living with my parents anymore, and I needed to take care of myself. I told myself that all these feelings of anxiety and emotional breakdowns would go away once I started college.

guess what? THEY DIDN'T! I was still having breakdowns! almost every time I would go home and talk to my mom, I would just cry and not want to go back to my apartment, but I had to. things started looking up once I changed my major, but then I entered one of the coldest, snowiest, darkest, most miserable Januaries I had ever experienced, and the seasonal depression took a nose dive. I was having a hard time motivating myself to do anything, and even though my life was going pretty well, I was just sad. finally, I called my doctor and set up an appointment. I ended up getting a special "happy light" that specifically helps with SAD, a stronger prescription of Vitamin-D supplements, and (finally) a real diagnosis for GAD, or generalized anxiety disorder.

at first, I was really upset because this meant more meds and it was suggested that I start seeing a therapist to manage the anxiety. and during this whole time, I told myself that I didn't need a therapist, I was strong enough. but then, I realized.

I NEED TO TAKE CARE OF MYSELF.

and in some situations, taking anxiety medication and going to a therapist is taking care of myself.

this doesn't mean that I'm not strong enough to manage myself. this doesn't mean that I'm not mentally or emotionally capable of managing myself. because I am still managing myself. I just need to take medication to do that, and by going to a therapist, I can learn even more about managing my anxiety, which will only help me later in life.

and the fact that I'm doing all this at age 19 is actually pretty incredible. I am so grateful that I am learning this now instead of waiting until later in life when I'm even more stressed out.

so, if you read the whole thing, congrats. I'm sorry, this was long. and yes, my ADHD meds wore off and I started rambling and getting off-topic, but expect nothing less.

but, if you are feeling anxious enough that you don't think you can control it, GET HELP.

if you are feeling depressed enough that you don't think you can motivate yourself on your own every day, GET HELP.

if you are CONSISTENTLY (I said consistently) having trouble focusing and getting anything done, making stupid impulsive decisions, and/or are not able to sit still during class and need to take a break and run around the building every day, GET HELP.

there is NOTHING embarrassing about it. it's a good thing. it means that you are taking care of yourself.

I am definitely not perfect, nor will I ever be. I will always have ADHD, GAD, and SAD. and it is hard to accept, but it is definitely manageable. and holy crap, I am grateful for medication. I am grateful for doctors. I am grateful for Vitamin D. I am grateful for therapists. I am grateful that I have all these resources to help me TAKE CARE OF MYSELF.

(also, go read this talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland)

LOVE YOU ALL.