first post

I'm not really sure what to write here, but I've had the itch to just write for a while now. I used to write a lot but it's been years since I've done more than a little journal entry here or there. Mostly I've spent the last while (and I say 'while' but I don't really know how long exactly...) just trying to numb myself to the pain I feel on a regular basis. Pain from depression, anxiety & addiction.

Some of the pain is self-inflicted, but a lot of the pain is legit, straight up, biological. I've come to understand that depression is something I get to live with, probably forever. I spent almost 4 years eating what I thought was "perfectly". I exercised almost every single day, sometimes multiple times a day, and still was plagued with that dark cloud hanging over my head, weighing down my limbs and causing my chest to hurt. Depression and anxiety were not cured through a "healthier" lifestyle. I don't even know how many meds I have been on and off in the last several years, but I have come to accept that they are a part of my life, and that's ok! I am not weak or stupid for needing meds to function in my life. I am strong for accepting that they help me and not being weighed down by stigma. I come from a family that didn't speak about things like depression, anxiety or addictions growing up. Things that were hard to discuss, we just didn't. When hard things did come up, we got the broom and swept them under the rug as quickly as possible, never to be addressed again. It wasn't until I was about 27 that I was even diagnosed with a mental illness, "bipolar". Since then I have been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, ADHD & OCD and every one of them was a shock! Until I looked back and could see how they made total sense.

I think they all kind of work together into one big ball of chaos. Recently, my therapist and I were discussing shame. She wondered what it would look like if I was able to see shame as something that wasn't a part of me. Something outside myself. I have this image of shame as a slimy, brain/yarn-like ball with arms and legs on a leash. For some strange reason I continue to bring shame along, but I think I like the imagery of mental illness in this same way. Taking this ball of chaos on a walk too. It's something outside of myself. It doesn't define me. It's not who I am, but is a part of my life. I don't think I'm doing a very good job of explaining my thinking there, but it makes perfect sense in my head!

My homework for this week was to try a new coping skill. So, here's me trying a new one: writing.

Until I have something much more interesting to say...