My version of “content” is probably a little different than most. I have struggled with depression and anxiety my whole life, and even when I’m content, I’m still struggling. However, I’ve always had functionality. I’ve always gone to work, paid the bills, did my laundry, etc. Maybe it’s just a part of the mask I wear so no one can see how incredibly broken I am. Whatever it is, it gave me power over my mental illnesses and allowed me to feel like I was much more.

I have suffered from both depression and manic episodes, depression probably being the worst. It could knock me off my feet for weeks, causing weight loss, disassociation, etc. But it’s never lasted more than a month, and I’ve always bounced back. Not this time. This time is different.

This episode started back in January, when I was feeling defeated from all the failed attempts with medication. I was referred to get Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation Therapy which you know from my previous posts, went sour. My anxiety sky rocketed to a place it had never been. I couldn’t leave my parents house, answer phone calls, drive, NOTHING. Throughout my life, the only thing I have not had a problem with was my ability to socialize. I flunked school but excelled socially, making friends anywhere and everywhere. Yet here I was, confined to the walls of my parents house, paralyzed at the thought of being around anyone besides them.

Slowly, I was able to introduce the idea of being in the same place with people outside my family and eventually I was even able to move back home. But nothing has been the same. Socially, I’m shot. I almost feel like I’m recovering from a stroke, having to relearn the things my brain had forgotten. I haven’t been out on my own, but have occasionally been out with my girlfriends friends. After forcing myself to leave the safety of my apartment, I’m stumped on how to interact with these people. I feel like a chicken with it’s head cut off. Lost. Alone. Confused as fuck.

It’s not just socially (because is it ever JUST one thing?) My whole body has started to betray me. It’s the things that used to keep me grounded, the things that let me label myself functional that are now slipping through my fingers. My mind will tell me it’s time to do something (like hey, what about those dishes over there? The ones littering your entire kitchen) but my body will not react. I lose all function. I am not in control of my arms and legs, they are dead weights. So I don’t do the dishes. Or sometimes I do as much as I can, which is not much by looking at my kitchen lately. It also happens when I’m driving and will cause me to have to pull over and patiently wait for my body to come back to me.

This applies to all sorts of things…paying my bills, depositing a check, responding to an e-mail or text I’ve been staring at for weeks, and even liking an Instagram. I don’t feel any sort of depression or anxiety surrounding the tasks I am trying to complete, I just feel weighted down and incapable. I have fallen behind on my bills, cleaning, eating, and just about everything else. It is so incredibly frustrating not being able to do the things I was doing just 6 weeks ago and have no idea why. I can hear my brain screaming “HELLO HELP ME WHAT IS GOING ON HERE” but no sound comes from my mouth. I am trapped. Held hostage by my own body.

There is such a fine line between “accepting your truth” and “becoming comfortable”. I want so badly to say I have not allowed this horrendous thing become my comfort, but it is really scary to think about myself without it. I do not remember the girl who was able to do these things, only that there was one. I don’t know what recovery from this looks like, because realistically, what the hell even is this? How can I explain to someone that the things that once came easily to me are now impossible? If I don’t know what “this” is, if I can’t put a word to it, how can it be real? Right now I am losing this battle and I am screaming for help as loud as I can, but I know you can’t hear me.