Broken?

A few months ago, while on a visit to my psychologist, she asked me a question.
“Do you ever feel like there is something broken inside of you? That you just don’t work the same as everyone else?”
I sat there for a moment, unable to respond. Those words summed up my feelings for the past five or so years. I have always felt that something in my brain just didn’t tick right. Somewhere inside of my mind, a gear was rusty and was not turning properly.
When she asked me that, I fought back tears. Every time I go to her office, I know that I’ll tear up. She always seems to put into words the things that I cannot find an adequate way to describe.
“Yes,” I told her.

I am an introvert. I enjoy alone time. I can spend hours thinking. But I do not like being around people for long periods of time.
I know that my friends don’t always understand this about me and it makes me sad. I wish that I didn’t have to bail out of things for the sake of preserving my sanity. I wish that I operated the same as everyone else.
And then again, I don’t.
I am glad that I do not look at things in the same light as everyone else. If I did not need to eat, drink, or sleep, I could spend a month inside my head without ever being bored a single time.
The stars alone amaze me. The grass after a rain makes me smile. In the simplest corners of life, I find meaning that is so often looked over. Maybe I have a poet’s soul.

But with all of the blessings, whatever sort of insanity I have is also a curse.
I lash out at the ones I love too often because I am angry with myself over things that they have no control over. I forget too easily that my mother and father and brother cannot see the inner turmoil taking place inside my mind.
Even now that I take medication for my anxiety, I sometimes still feel that nagging weight that sits like a rock on my heart. The medicine has helped me tremendously, but I understand that a pill can never fully patch the broken places in my brain. 

I don’t want people to feel bad for me. This is just another sort of lifestyle.
Maybe I am broken, but I’m fine that way.

Peace, love, and understanding yourself,
Sara

Tonight I Wasn't Very Sara

I went back to my psychologist today. It had been about five years since my last visit.
Honestly, I was never "fixed". When I was eleven and I got out of that terrible depression that I was in, I wasn't done being depressed or having anxiety. Instead, I had learned how to cope with it.
Sure, I didn't think I was going insane anymore, but I was still thinking about how many horrible outcomes each day could have.
I didn't want to go back to the psychologist for the longest time. My mom would mention it on the days when I couldn't hold it together that well, but I always said no. I honestly thought that I could work through it on my own, but I can't. I think I tricked myself into thinking that everything was fine, that I was going to work through everything by myself. I was very wrong.
As I was talking to my psychologist today, I think I finally understood how long this has been going on. Basically, I've had terrible anxiety my entire life.

Today I wanted to go to the football game. It was a home game and all of my friends were going to be there.
It was going to be fun.
But on the drive home from the appointment, I started feeling really bad again.
And by feeling bad, I don't mean a headache. I was upset over so many things all at once.
I was sad for my parents worrying about me. I was sad about my friends probably thinking that I'm crazy because they don't understand how much anxiety affects my life, etc.

When I got home I decided to play Minecraft and try to get myself thinking happier thoughts, but that didn't help anything. My mom was going on a walk around the block and so I decided to go with her.
But as I was getting dressed, my friend Paige called me.

On and off for an hour, I had been debating with myself on whether or not I should go to the game.
Then I messaged Paige and told her that I wouldn't be coming.
I was just so upset and I still am upset. I didn't want to be around people at all, even the friends that I am very grateful for. Lately, since this has been progressively been getting worse, I've been making up excuses to get out of social events. It doesn't matter what the setting is. From a football game to going to Sonic with my friends, it doesn't take much to throw me into anxiety mode. And because I was already having a hard time with it, I knew that I would most likely be a blubbering mess in the car and that I would probably leave the game early. Half the time, I make up some excuse about my mom wanting me to come home when I'm out with friends. I say that I didn't do the dishes or that I have some sort of homework to do, but really it's because I get sad and worried even more than usual. I leave because I know that if I stay, I could potentially start crying or get very quiet and then my friends would ask me too many questions.
I really don't like answering questions when I get like that. Partly, it's because I can't put how I'm feeling into words. For the most part, it's because I know that I'll start crying again. I don't like to cry in front of people.

So when Paige called me and asked why I wasn't going to the game, it was all I could do to hold myself together. The reason I wasn't going didn't have to do with wanting to write, or play video games, or reading.
It had to do with the fact that I was just too fragile to go anywhere in public.

After I had myself mostly pulled together, dad watched Doctor Who with me. It meant a lot to me since both  of my parents hate that show. But we watched Blink, and no one is allowed to hate that episode because it's awesome.
I love my parents so much, and I'm very thankful that they try their best to help me not to be so sad and worried all the time.

Hopefully, this can provide my friends with the answers to why I've been absent from social functions lately.

Now that I've started going back to a psychologist, I think that I'll start to get better soon.
At least I hope so.

Peace, love, and socks,
Sara

Stronger Now

My anxiety is getting worse again.
That panicky, nagging, feeling at the back of my mind is back.
It's been getting worse for a while, but I've been pushing it away and pushing it away.
But eventually, the dam that I built in my mind to hold everything back, is going to break.
Here's to hoping that I'll be strong enough to build it right back again if it does.

I can't quite think of a way to sum up the feelings that I have, and I don't want to write them all out.
Basically, I do a lot of crying. And not the kind that is usually associated with my "Sara-ness" (crying over books, movies, shows...specifically the Doomsday episode of Doctor Who), but the kind that I hate the most. The kind of crying that I do whenever my anxiety gets really bad makes me feel weak and even more stupid than I probably already feel at the time.

I get so frustrated at myself for worrying over things that I know I have no control over.
With the new school year, it has gotten even worse.
But I have a secret weapon; something that I didn't have years ago, when I was at the lowest time in my life.
I have friends.

Real friends, too. Not the flaky ones I had back then.
Nope, I've got real ones.

To all of you who are the friends I'm speaking to: If this next week, this next month, or this entire school year is hard for me, please don't leave me by myself. I've been there before, and I don't want to ever go back to that awful place. If I turn into some sort of horribly reserved, cold person, know that I'm still in there somewhere. But that's worst case scenario, of course. I plan on pulling myself out of this, even if I have to go back to a psychologist. I'm stubborn enough to think that I can do all of this on my own, and that's probably ignorant of me, but I'm going to try it anyway. I've fought this battle before, I can do it again.
I'm stronger now than I was then.

So, if I fall off into a long silence or I start crying, please yell at me to get my crap together.

Peace, love, and novel writing,
Sara