I have written about my struggles with anxiety, depression and OCD in the past. I have struggled with this “issues” as long as I can remember, as far back as childhood. It was about 6 years ago that I finally and forcefully received help after trying to end it all. I was placed in a room all my things taken from me, and placed in a “safe room” on watch.. I was very aware of my surroundings and what was happening.
I had just graduated with my Masters Degree in Strategic Planning, had a great career in finance and everything was headed in the right direction.. so it appeared from the outside looking in. I woke up daily wanting to hide, cried in the bathrooms and picked my skin raw with worry. I was far from healthy and it had only gotten worse as time went on.
Back to this room, I was in front of the nurses station and could hear everything going on. I knew there has always been a stigma around mental health and was hoping that I would be treated with dignity as everyone should be. The nurse called out to the doctor on call ” Want the drug addict or the Psych case” I was furious, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I yelled at the nurse and asked her does she yell out to the doctor “want the fat person with knee issues or the smoker with the bad cough?!?!” we are all human and we deserve to be treated that way. We all have ups and downs and I was definitely at a low.
I was treated and sent home and for years I battled with that scenario, didn’t want to ever have to go back to the hospital for anything mental health related. I decided after 6 years to come off all my medications that had allowed me to be functional in society back in the fall. I wanted to try and manage on my own, I wanted to prove to myself that the meds are just a crutch and I can learn to cope and thrive on my own. Hind sight, all the coping in the world didn’t help me.. I needed to have help. I was slipping and fading fast.. I was scared to ask for help again. I was scared judgment would be cast upon me again.
Last night, I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t get the bad thoughts to go away and I couldn’t stop making my skin bleed. I had called the local mental health clinic over a week ago and was told the soonest was Dec 8th, I tried to find other ways to cope. I didn’t want to go to the hospital for fear of what would happen. I was told “Try harder” I was told ” the meds aren’t the cure all” I was told “suck it up” and accused of wanting the meds only to be used as a weight loss tool ( I have admittedly gained weight in my depression)
Today I driving by an out patient care facility I stopped, no looking back I needed help. I walked in, registered and couldn’t look back. I was so pleased to be treated by the most pleasant and understanding doctor who helped me. Didn’t judge me and has agreed to stay with me while I gain my strength back. He saw that I was struggling, he saw the scars on my hands and neck, he knew this was real. Today was the day! today is the first day back to Meg. I am a women who has an MBA, a degree in Neurosciences and a license to be a paramedic, I have no shame. I needed help and despite everything that has happened I was able to get it before it was really too late.
I hope someone out there reads this and it gives them hope to try again. Gives you strength not to give up when everyone else has given up on you. You are loved!
