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Even though I know people don’t usually want to read depressing and sad stuff, I want to write about mine today. Because I feel that it helps me in some twisted way to write it up rather than actually talking about it with someone. And don’t get me wrong, I’m trying to make myself better at expressing myself and ACTUALLY tell people what bothers me, but because of an old habit, writing still eases me up the most. At least for the time being.
I can’t really say for sure what started it, but I have wild guesses. I had some troubles during my 5th and 6th grade. And I don’t blame only them about it , because it always takes too to tango, so in my own actions I’m also to blame. But if I can have a little back up on my side, it’d have to be that I had for my entire life lived in an environment where if you had something to say, you said it straight, no bullshitting or talking behind some ones back and telling baseless lies. And believe me or not, I still have decided to live like I have been taught. No bullshitting or lies behind someones back. I had stepped into a new world, social school life. So it was new to me.
So my guess is that my honesty, anger and ignorance got me to the point where the friends I thought were my friends just disappeared. Vanished like dust in the wind. I started to isolate myself from everything. Later on, we made peace with each other, at least with the persons who were principally involved in this spat. And I’m really glad that we did. We could and can still wave to each other when we see somewhere. Though things were never the same again and probably never will. But that’s okay, by both parties I think.
Next Chapter: Aftermath
So I think that I took quite the mental hit after all that had happened. And even though the anger was gone and fear almost, it had replaced itself with something else: Numbness. Numbness and sadness were the main elements, but most of the times I felt really hollow. Like there was nothing inside anymore. Just emptiness echoing. And actually at the time I really enjoyed that in a sense, because I didn’t NEED to FEEL anything. It was way more awesome than the surging waves of self-loath, sadness and anxiety. They swallowed me whole and didn’t want to let go. It almost called drastic measures, when I felt like I couldn’t handle it anymore, but luckily it never ended that way. Thanks to others who cared.
Though even when I sometimes got down to the same feelings I had before, I found it easy to grab back to that numbness , because it was so strong in me. It was so easy to grasp and then I didn’t need to think anything anymore. I shut down my engines. And made a notice. I couldn’t cry. Not at all. Nothing made me cry anymore, because I felt that all my cries hadvanished at this point. There was nothing left to cry. But actually years later I’ve noticed that it’s not that I couldn’t cry only, I couldn’t feel anything either. Nothing that came in my way swayed my feel-sensors in any direction. I was an empty shell that just moved according to coordinates that it was given. This phase was at the beginning of junior high school and I felt it was okay. This was supposed to be how I’m able to handle everything. I was wrong.
Next Chapter: The First Steps
I wasn’t alone in junior high, I had made new friends and I had friends from my collateral class from elementary school, that had nothing to do with the case that took place in 5-6th grade, and they probably didn’t even know what was going down ’cause I never told them at that time. I just tried to pull into my own little safety bubble most of the time. But still they stood there, even when I wasn’t anywhere near to be called a good-model friend. And I’m really thankful they did, it helped me a lot during my years.
So my mundane days went on in a haze. I didn’t take note of any of the actions that happened around me. I just went on case by case and if sensed that there could be even a 0.000000001 % possibility of getting something unpleasant coming in my way, I would always skid and back out. I didn’t want to take the risk that something might come in to surface and end my peaceful numb days. No way, not in a millions of years. And at the time I thought that I did good. No one noticed the emptiness inside, I never said anything that might start a conflict or even a normal argument. It was easier that way. I wanted to become the stereotypical member of the group, the one that just follows quietly from the sidelines and never speaks out, even when they have an opinion. And I did have. Many times, but I just didn’t tell it.
So after a long time keeping it up like this, I was invited for the first time in god knows how many years to sleep over at my friend’s house. She was in the same class as me and even though before we hadn’t talked that much, even when we hanged out in the same group, but after we got in the same class we started to hang out together surprisingly lot, even after the school day was over. And I was kind of happy that she wanted to spend time with me and I told her yes, of course I would love to come at her house. And mark my words, it was worth it. I think I told about this specific event more closely in one of my earlier post “Penny for your thoughts, dear” , when I went to her house and what happened there.
Any how, after that groundbreaking event in that sleepover, I started to build myself up again, piece by piece. I found my voice again. I had learned to cry when I wanted/needed to cry. And even though there were earth-shaking changes in one night, everybody knows that miracles don’t happen in one night. So building myself up from the scratch would take a lot of stamina and hard work. But after a long time, I had learned to feel at ease again. The feelings were back and I even enjoyed their presence. I started to feel alive again. I could move from my for-so-long frozen position. I had started to breathe again.
Next Chapter: The Treatment
Even I’m amazed sometimes how far I’ve come from where I was. And I know deep in my heart, that there is a place where I’m not willing to go back again, even though it once was a place that I desired the most. And even though I’ve gotten a whole lot better from the time I was the most down I’ve ever been, it’s no gone. It never will. Well at least not totally, there always will be fragments remaining and that is fine. You don’t need to give those away. I didn’t, and never will. Because those are the fragments that helped you to grow up to be the person you are today.
I’ve visited a school psychologist during my junior high years a several times, but at the time I felt like the scar was too fresh to open. So most of our sessions weren’t so successful. She asked questions which I answered if I wanted. And she courage to tell me anything I wanted. I wasn’t open for that. I was more like a vending machine where you are trying to feed a wrinkly bill and it just spits it back. It’s frustrating for both. And because I didn’t always feel comfortable to visit her, I sometimes just skipped our session and receipted it like I didn’t remember we were supposed to have a session. And don’t get me wrong, the psychologist was very nice. She gave me a lot of freedoms and creative ways to dismantle my mentally bad walls and how I can handle my anxiety and how to cope with it when I start to have panic attacks. Those advises I still use even today.
But well, to be honest our session were not going to see the beautiful horizon which the sunset has painted. She wanted to help me and I appreciate her help even till today, but I personally didn’t feel like we were going anywhere. So when she asked me if I wanted to continue the sessions, I answered no. Because in our school, the school psychologist made an evaluation of the needed session, depending of the problem, and then there was a possibility to continue the sessions or to quit them and I decided to quit. Of course the parents opinion also counted, but because the student was the main character and depending of the case, was the one to say the last word. And mine was no. I was told that anytime I feel that I want to talk about something, I’m always welcome. I never went to that office again after I left there that last time.
Next Chapter: Tomorrow’s Today
So life have tossed me around in many ways. And I know that the future will probably whip me even more, but I’m quite positive about it. I know I have my bad moments and I know that I have evolved from what I used to be but it is still there in me. And it will always stay there. Only the shape and how it surfaces has changed. It’s not continuous anymore, but comes more like tides and not so often anymore. But when it hits, it hits harder than when I was younger. But I have my means to cope up with it now. And usually it works.
At some point in life I think I should go to see a psychologist and/or therapist again, but somehow the previous encounter have left me a bit scared of going there. But I never rule it out, not entirely. I probably will give it a chance again, when I feel like I’m in a need of someone to help me. Mentally.
But for now, I’ve found my own ways to ease my anxiety. And those have proven to work. Not always but most of the time. I’ve learned to do some self observations and listen to my body when it yells. And those time I turn to my hobbies and things that I’ve found useful to me. Things that makes it easier to cope with the feelings, be it turning it into painting, drawing or a song played with piano means a world to me. It’s those little things that makes a person happy.
Also a huge resource to my mental mountain climbing is that I have my best and most dearest friends that never judge me, are willing to listen and help me whenever I feel like I really can’t handle it myself. They have always been there for me and I really do believe that they always will, they are that kind of person that come to your life and are there to stay. And I’m graceful about it every day. I would never trade them to anything. They are a huge source of my life energy. And I love it.