The Road to Recovery

The “Road to Recovery”. If anyone has heard me say it, it is a long and lonely process. It’s not just enough to admit that you have anxiety, depression or an addiction of some form. It’s not going to fix everything. Admitting that you have something that effects your mental stability just puts it on the table and makes it available to those around you. In the real world, it is up to you to snap out of it and do something about your anxiety, depression or addiction.

In my life, I thought I was doing better. I stopped taking drugs in February 2019. Moved out of an apartment that was killing me financially in April 2019 and broke up with someone who has constantly breaking my heart in May 2019. In June of 2019, I went to my doctor, I told him everything. I broke down in his office. I needed help, I needed back on my medication. He prescribed me my medication and that was that. I had my fix.

I started seeing someone later that month and everything felt perfect. I finally had a job I was good at. I had an amazing apartment rented by my friend. I had so many friends that I could call at any hour of the night because I was bored and wanted to hang out, over everything, I thought I found someone who really wanted to be with me. My world was finally coming together until it wasn’t.

In July, my doctor prescribed me anxiety medication. The final piece to the confusing puzzle that is my mental health. What they failed to mention was that, if you were someone who needed an anti depressant then, the anxiety medication will backfire.

Early August, that guy who I thought really wanted to be with me, left me. Through text and didn’t even allow me the chance to speak with them. Messages went left on read, the truth came out. All of it. This was the ignition to the dynamite I had no idea piling up in my mind. This was the explosion of my mental/ nervous breakdown.

Work didn’t see me all of August and part of September. My birthday, late August, was one of the worst. Basically, I was on my floor screaming and crying, pulling my hair, begging for the voices to stop. Screaming that I was crazy and that I didn’t want to be crazy anymore. I just wanted to feel normal; wondering why I wasn’t good enough. I lost all my feeling. Music couldn’t make me happy anymore. I couldn’t take care of myself, let alone my cats. My anxiety medication that I started to take in July, caused me to have pains. Unimaginable pains. I told everyone I had cysts in my uterus because I thought I did. I thought I had a conversation with my doctor, that I had the ultrasound…those pains were never there. This medication caused me to hallucinate.

I lost it all. I lost what I thought was my sanity. I lost my best friend. She wanted me to go to the hospital but I wasn’t ready. I didn’t think I needed the hospital. We already figured it out. It was the medication. Done. No hospital needed… I was wrong. I went with my mum causing me to lose my friend because I lied to them because I couldn’t handle having them be angry at me still. I saw a psychiatrist and they started to evaluate me. I wasn’t crazy. I’m not crazy. I just need to be treated right.

It’s October of 2019 and I’m on the road to recovery. Shit is lonely. I learned a lot and I am still learning. My head has never felt more clear and more open. My mania has been controlled. I cut the toxic strings that were holding me down. That perfect apartment? I got evicted from. My long list of friends that I could call up? I only have 2 good ones that I plan on keeping around. As for the love life, that’s still up for debate. What I didn’t know was the past relationships that happened during the mania and how I am clear headed and can see those red flags. How, I was good enough. They just weren’t good enough for me.

I guess my take away from the Road to Recovery is that it’s not an easy fix. I wasn’t fixed by going to the hospital but it pushed me onto the right path. My leg no longer bounces to the point that it’s pissing off the people beside me. I don’t have a physical home address at the moment I am writing this but, I am feeling lighter because I am now out of a place that made me feel unwelcome closer to the end. I got a raise at work and can finally prove my strengths to them. The strengths that I lost during my breakdown because I stopped caring. I’m lonely as all hell but it has shown me who I can depend on. The real and honest people I can depend on. I’ve learned who is by my side for everything.

The relapses I have been told that I will incur haven’t been fun but I am learning now that you need them to become the stronger person you need to be. You need them to become the person you were born to be.

I may be stuck on this road for a while but with every step, I am feeling lighter. I’ve learned to give myself a break every now and then. I’ve learned to love better, myself and others. I’ve learned to appreciate everything around me. I learned to be more grateful.

Ever since I got onto this road, I started to feel everything again. Still can’t see the end but, I know it’s going to end well.