True Life: I Need Mental Help! (Part 2)

True Life

• Part 1: I've Got a Belly
• >> Part 2: I Need Mental Help! <<

Alright, so let’s talk. Let’s talk about the “taboo” subject that everyone seems to be struggling with but no one wants to talk about. The topic of anxiety, depression, psychiatric medication, and dare I say it, THERAPY. Now mind you, I’m not a doctor and have zero intention of steering you one way or another when it comes to your own mental health. I simply want to tell you my own experience in hopes that you might be able to relate to it, and feel a little less alone on your journey to whole health.

I think it all started in middle school for me. I began to feel this overwhelming pressure to be “great” despite having an incredibly supportive network of family and friends. It was a feeling that came from within, that I had to do everything and anything I could to be the best. I mean, didn’t all 8th graders play four school sports, attend private competitive gymnastics four times a week (at night AFTER regular middle school sports), and get all A’s?! Well, that’s what I subconsciously thought I guess? Then came highschool. I had the ultimate goal and dream to get a full scholarship to a division one college for Track and Field. Oh, and while I’m at it, why don’t I throw a part time job on top of it all? Not because my parents pressured me or needed me too, but because I subconsciously felt I HAD to make my own money on top of it all. I continued to thrive at almost everything I did and at the time, I thought I felt great about myself. Powerful in a sense. Strong. To give 150% to everything in front of me was the only way I knew how to do anything.

Fast forward a few years to my first semester in college, at the division one private school. Yup! You read that right. I did exactly what I said I was going to do. I got the scholarship. I broke all the track and field records. It was division one. IT WAS MY DREAM COME TRUE! But I was absolutely MISERABLE. The highschool sweetheart that I was supposed to “spend the rest of my life” with was away at a different college with ZERO anticipation of us ever being together forever, I absolutely HATED my entitled and disrespectful roommate, I wasn’t allowed to have my car, losing all sense of my independence and freedom, AND my track coach quit the first week of the semester. This was NOT how it was supposed to go!! Like what the hell?! Straight A’s, my name on plaques and awards, and a scholarship at my dream school. I MADE IT! But meanwhile, I couldn’t walk down to the cafeteria to get a sandwich without sobbing my eyes out. And I continued to get MORE miserable feeling guilty for being so unhappy. This was everything I worked for right?! So why am I so depressed?!

I went into extreme “survival mode” that semester. I quit the track team, my “future husband” and I broke up and I finished the semester with a 4.0 GPA and tears all over my books. It was finally time to head home for Winter Break. As the days to go back to school counted down, I continued to lack emotional control. My mother sensed my pain, sat me down and told me that I didn’t have to go back, explaining that just because the “dream school” didn’t end up being so dreamy, didn’t mean I had to be miserable. It was like a 20 ton weight had been lifted! We hopped in the car the next day and drove over to Hofstra University. We showed them my transcripts and they gave me an even better academic scholarship than the previous “dream” school. I felt “sufficient” again. The campus was GORGEOUS! And it was HUGE. So many new people to meet. So many new things to experience. My parents had surprised me by decorating the basement to be a little private apartment. I was able to have my car and work as a waitress at the local pub for some spending money. I was off to a great start on my new journey, but my dark thoughts continued to worsen and I secretly cried on the floor a few nights a week. BUT WHY?!!?

At the start of my first Hofstra semester, I found myself feeling “sick and tired” of feeling “sick and tired”. My father having been a police officer, I was lucky enough to have great insurance and was able to locate some local resources to get the help I thought I really needed. Of course, like many of you out there, I was ashamed to be at the point that I was. I remember parking my car on a side street to make the call because I didn’t want my parents to hear me at home. I remember dialing the phone a few times and hanging up because I couldn’t even bring myself to speak the words to the receptionist. The truth was, I needed the help of a mental health professional. I was a superstar student, an elite athlete with incredible support and opportunities all around me, but I needed help. Looking back on this time, I wish I had known that there was absolutely NOTHING wrong with that.

That first appointment, after filling out what felt like millions of extremely personal and invasive papers, I was able to sit down with my new therapist. She had me take a questionnaire to measure my self esteem. Despite what many people saw or thought from the outside, I scored miserably low on this questionnaire and was recommended to see a psychiatrist because she felt that I might have a chemical imbalance. I was put on antianxiety and depression medication in order to get me to a place where I could “do the work” successfully with my therapist. This was 11 years ago.

During these 11 years, I have made that same incredibly difficult phone call multiple times. And that 11 years included an 800 mile move, 2 failed entrepreneurial ventures, a lucrative job that took my own health, and multiple failed relationships. Why am I telling you all of this? I’m telling you my story because I want you to know that it is okay to get help. I want you to know that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me having been in therapy 4 times (for long periods of time) over the course of these past 11 years. I want you to know that I STILL struggle mentally. Every. Single. Day. I want you to know that I have done the “work” on myself and it is only recently that I have arrived at a place where I am content being ME. It’s only recently that I have been able to be in the right mindset after having done the “work” and have been able to kick those antidepressant medications. And yes, it’s taken me 11 damn years to get there. And I’m STILL nowhere near where I’d like to be mentally, physically, emotionally, and entrepreneurially. The message is that it’s okay to NOT be okay. The message is that life is freakin hard and it throws a ton of crap at you. The message is that you are NOT ALLOWED to let yourself think that you are NOT good enough.

Use your resources. Get the help you need. Do the work! It’s your life and your mental health. Only YOU can decide the fate of your health and happiness.

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Current weight: 139.8lbs (down 6 lbs)