A Positive Update

Hello, the internet.

I’ve definitely been neglecting this blog lately. Whoops. Cue the usual “I’ve been busy/ I’m low-key a piece of shit/etc” thing. Formalities, formalities, blah, formalities.

I was eager to get right into this post, but now I don’t know where to start. To be honest, I’m not writing this because anything especially update-worthy has happened recently. Although, now that I think about it, that’s true. But I am writing this evening because I finished my evening routines a little earlier than usual and I still have some time before the Seroquel knocks me out.

Typically, I am motivated to blog by misery. So I guess it’s a good thing that tonight I’m writing because of happenstance instead. Because I actually have some really great things to share.

Good Thing #1: I am a happy person.

Okay, I don’t know for sure what it means to be a happy person, because I’ve never been one, but I’m certainly not a sad person anymore. And it’s a really weird feeling, but it’s a good weird feeling. I’ve been fighting mental illness for so long that it has become my identity. I was the sad, cynical, sarcastic, beautifully-broken asshole. I’m still a sarcastic asshole, and I am acutely aware of the problems in the world, but I also have a sense of purpose to solve those problems and the hope that it can be done. I don’t know if it’s the daily meditating (yes, I’m that person), challenging my social anxiety, or making Dominique a smaller part of my life. But whatever the reason, I’m pretty pleased.

Good Thing #2: I am dating.

For a while, I got stuck in a pattern of ending my contact with someone as soon as there was any potential for anything. My therapist said I was scared of getting hurt again, which sounds better than me lacking any social capabilities, so I’ll take it. Eventually, I gave up on dating altogether. At one point, I was going to casually sleep with one of my guy friends just to feel some shitty, bootlegged version of love for ten minutes. But recently, I’ve really been trying to put myself out there and meet people. I went on a date recently, and the plan is for us to go out again. I don’t know for sure what I want at this point, but I’m having fun. So, there’s that.

Good Thing #3: I got a job today.

This is actually amazing, but I don’t think my excitement level accurately reflects it yet. Just getting a job is a miracle and a huge financial relief. But it involves limited contact with other people, and actually sounds really fun. I’ve had jobs that I have “liked” in the sense that I was able to experience moments of happiness while working at them. But I think I will ACTUALLY like this job. Like the people in TV shows that I never relate to. You like the thing you’re forced to do at a desk for half your waking hours? Okay…

But yeah, finding a job means my Summer is figured out, and now I just have to do the things for a few months.
__________________________________________________________________________________________

I actually feel so grateful for where my life is right now. For the first time in a long time, things are going well. Eight months ago, I was constantly suicidal, and now I’m here. I can function in school and can find employment. I go to social things and enjoy them. I spend my time talking to people who want happiness as much as I do. I’m doing all the things. I’m really doing them.

Now, I don’t mean to suggest that I have cured myself of all mental illness with the power of positive thinking. More accurately, I have greatly reduced my symptoms of mental illness to a level where I can function, by working very hard for a very long time. I’ve been eating well (and enough). I’ve been going to the gym. I’ve been meditating, despite not really loving it. I made the terrifying decision to move out of my old place. I am pushing myself to endure anxiety-provoking situations many times per week. And at some point, all these actions got me somewhere pretty cool.

It has taken me quite a while to write this, and by now the Seroquel HAS kicked in, so that’s all for tonight. Hopefully I’ll have more good updates soon.

Sarah

The things I learned in Undergrad

My undergraduate experience hasn’t been very conventional. And I’ve hated myself for that since I returned to school in Fall 2015.

But I just finished a 10-minute guided meditation on self-forgiveness (because apparently I’m a person who meditates now), and as cringey and fluffy as it sounds, I realized something important. Namely, that I have learned so much more since I started university in 2012 than I ever could have if things had gone differently.

I wouldn’t be who I am today if I had graduated in 2016 with my friends from high school. If I hadn’t switched programs. If I didn’t take time off for eating disorder treatment. Maybe things would have been easier, but they wouldn’t have been better. Because I went to university to learn, and that’s what I did.

2012-2013

I began first-year as an anxious but generally happy super-Christian. I went to church twice a week, I volunteered with a youth group, and I planned to declare Religious Studies as my major in second year. I hardly know that 17-year-old version of me now. I feel compassion for her, because I remember that Christianity gave her a purpose and a community, before it gave her crippling self-hatred for being a sinner and stifled her dreams. I feel compassion for her, but I barely know her. These days, she rarely crosses my mind. Anyways, at some point, this girl decided God was telling her to become a nurse. When I didn’t get into the Nursing program for the following year, I decided to major in Psychology for my second year then transfer into Accelerated Nursing.

2013-2014

At the end of Summer 2013, after university education and life experience left me doubting Christianity for months, I made the decision that I was no longer a Christian. When I went back to school in September, all my friends thought I was going to hell, I had no hobbies or interests outside the church, and I had no direction or purpose for my life. I tried turning to science to give me some sense of meaning. I thought if I learned HOW our species and our planet ended up where they are now, I would also know WHY. I wanted to switch into Biology. Then Biochem. Then general Life Sciences. Then physics. Eventually, I decided to stay in psychology after all and do something to help those with mental illness. I developed Bulimia in the Fall, and barely attended any classes in the Winter. I went to the Psych ER three times with suicidal thoughts. At some point, I thought a change of scenery might help, so I applied to double major in Math and Writing at a different university in January 2015. Over the Summer, I experienced a trauma and my eating disorder became restrictive and took over everything. (When I talk about this, I like to clarify that my eating disorder COINCIDENTALLY became worse and more restrictive at the same time, but restrictive eating disorders are not generally more or less severe than other eating disorders)

2014-2015

Just typing in those years brings me immense sadness. This year must have been the most miserable in my life to date. In the Fall, I couldn’t work, and I was waiting until January to return to school. I watched documentaries under a blanket in my room all day, and had energy/motivation for little else. All I cared about was food and calories and weight. And to be honest, I probably needed it at that time, because everything else had gone to shit. I accepted a referral to a Day Hospital program, because I thought I would be magically better in 8 weeks and go back to school like nothing happened. I started attending classes in February, and relapsed immediately. I still only cared about food and calories and weight. I dropped all my classes in late March or early April because I didn’t have the mental capacity to learn anything. I returned to the Day Hospital program in April. While there, I decided to return to my original university, as it was closer to my home so my parents would be nearby and the trigger of commuting would be gone. This school doesn’t have a writing program, so I intended to double-major in Math and English.

2015-2016

I managed to mostly maintain my recovery through the Summer. I met Jenn in the Fall. She made me happy and was a great motivation for recovery. I’m still getting over our breakup, so I’ll just say the recovery stuck and Jenn did not. I also decided to only major in Math, as that meant graduating with a BSc instead of a BA, and the English courses at this school are not remotely writing-related.

2016-2017

Jenn broke up with me a few days before classes started in September, so I started the term suicidal. I was in the hospital a few times for overdosing, and was very nearly admitted as a psychiatric inpatient. I managed to get my shit together just in time, and got through the term. In the Winter, my roommate was admitted inpatient, and everything was about her for months. I sound unsupportive and I honestly am, but I had zero support and she was incredibly selfish during this time. I don’t want to get into the details, but our friendship became very toxic, and it was all very difficult for me. I made no changes to my program this year, believe it or not.

After 6 years of undergrad, I will (if all goes to plan) finally receive my degree in 2018. That degree will tell the world that I came to university and I learned about math. And I used to take comfort in knowing it wouldn’t say anything else. Like the fact that it took me 6 years to achieve, or the fact that I changed my mind on my program 20394 times, or the fact that I entered school wanting to be a missionary, or the fact that I lost a year of school to complete eating disorder treatment. But today, I kind of wish my degree wouldn’t just say I learned math. I wish it would say that I learned where I stand on religion, how to survive when I don’t want to, how to cope in unhealthy ways, how to cope in healthy ways, how to break and then put myself back together, how to love, the fact that I love women, what heartbreak feels like, how to put my life back together a second time, what I really want to do with my life, and how to work towards the life I really want. Because I learned all those things, and looking back, I wouldn’t change my path one bit, because those struggles and setbacks and detours made me grow into the person I am today. And I learned things about myself and the world that I will use for the rest of my life. So my undergrad hasn’t been conventional, but thank god it hasn’t been.

Sarah

In Transition

Today, a lot of things changed.

I moved out of a place I shared with my toxic best friend (whose best friend status is currently under evaluation). I moved in with 4 strangers whom I will live with during my final year of undergrad. Both my Summer courses began (I attended neither due to the move). I guess that’s not very many things, but it feels like everything.

I need my routines. My routines comfort me. My routines ground me in reality. But I’m in a new house now, and I’m taking different classes, so things will be different. My routines have to change.

This might sound bizarre, but I simultaneously feel like life isn’t real and that I’m falling off the edge of a cliff. I don’t know what to do with myself. What do I do tomorrow morning for breakfast? When do I shower? Do I need to prepare more for Wednesday’s classes? I just want to lie in bed on my laptop forever.

I was excited to use this Summer to fight my social anxiety, so I could be a happier person by Fall. And I still plan to do that. But everything feels so scary right now.

I can’t explain it. But I just feel so afraid. I’m afraid to socialize with the people in my house. I’m afraid of how my social situation will change as I rethink my closest friendship. I’m scared my Summer courses will be terrible, and that I’ll be miserable all Summer. I’m afraid to get a part-time job, and then have to do it. I’m afraid of finishing my undergrad next year. I’m scared to go to grad school, which will probably be in Germany. I’m scared to get a real job after that. I’m afraid of everything I’ll ever have to do for the rest of my life. And I thought facing my fears would feel liberating, but I’m remembering all these times I was forced to face them repeatedly and my anxiety did not improve. That’s where the depression sets in, where life starts feeling like a long list of things I don’t want to do. Usually, my efforts to avoid anxiety (like isolation) cause depression, so it’s a bummer when it’s caused by the anxiety itself. Like what am I supposed to do to live a full, happy life?

Clearly, my thoughts are now devolving into chaos, so I will take this opportunity to politely excuse myself from the internet.

Sarah

Feeling Positive

My desire to write is typically inversely correlated to my mood, turning my blog into a heap of depression. But right this second, I am feeling genuinely happy, and I want to write about it. This may be related to the fact that I should be studying, but regardless, here is happy Sarah.

I feel obligated to mention that objectively, my life hasn’t gotten much better. My roommate is out of the hospital, but our relationship is irreversibly damaged, and we have decided to live apart next year (aka May 1st). The Summer is a terrifying swirl of unknowns; I don’t know where I will live, where I will work, who I will hang out with, or whether I will enjoy my classes. So it’s an anxiety-provoking time, which conveniently follows a Wellbutrin increase (which is great for mood, not so much for anxiety). Blah blah negativity blah.

But today, right this moment, I feel happy. Maybe meditating for the past 6 days has caused me to achieve enlightenment, but I somehow doubt it.

Today is a snow day (because Canada), so I get to spend the day curled up in my apartment. If it didn’t lower my mood long-term, I would spend every day like this. Fortunately, I can enjoy this day indoors guilt-free with the certainty that I will resume my usual activities tomorrow.

I planned to go to the gym today, so I did something resembling a home workout with moderate kitten interference, because I want those gains. Then I showered and got right back into my cozy pajamas. Then I did my daily chores (feeding the cat, laying out tomorrow’s outfit, etc.) and meditated. The only thing left to accomplish today is studying for my midterm tomorrow, but I’m already feeling fairly confident about it.

So here I am, feeling clean and warm in my cozy pajamas, mindful and full of endorphins, hanging out with my cat and reading about commutative rings. Everything about this day brings me joy, which is something I haven’t felt in a while, so I want to appreciate it while it’s here.

I am facing very stressful situations later this week, and the uncertainties about the Summer will continue to cause anxiety, but right this second, I feel joy.

I don’t recognize myself and have strong urges to insert a bitter, cynical comment. But the things that make me cynical and bitter will still be around when this joy passes, so right now, I’m just going to enJOY it. I’m so funny.

Sarah

Today’s Crisis: Part 2

TW: SEXUAL ASSAULT, RAPE

Yesterday, I had a lot of really strong feelings and not a lot of ability to make sense of them. Instead of paying attention in my lectures today, I spent my time in deep introspection, and I gained some important (not algebra-related) insights.

I figured out why I am so upset about my best friend being in the hospital and why I am so angry with her. It is because I have abandonment issues, and an intolerance to unpredictability. 5 months ago, my girlfriend suddenly broke up with me and cut off all communication between us, which was both unpredictable as fuck and textbook abandonment. 3 weeks ago, my best friend fell into a major depressive episode and thus stopped holding up her end of our friendship. Then she was hospitalized and thus isn’t even being my roommate right now. All of this was unpredictable and out of my control and I was left all alone.

Now, of course you can’t blame somebody for getting sick and having larger priorities than being your friend. But you can blame them for dramatizing their illness and not trying to get better. I feel like a friendship is an implicit agreement to not dip out of nowhere without a good reason. And I don’t think she has a reason right now.

Again, I know how much of a piece of shit I’m being. But I can’t make myself believe something different. I don’t think education about mental illness would change my opinion, because I have very extensive first-hand knowledge on the subject. I just know this person very well, and this is the conclusion I am reaching based on her words and actions.

Here’s where I will sound like an even bigger piece of shit (again). My roommate told me she has started trauma therapy for something she has never told anybody. Later, she implied that it was some sort of sexual assault or rape. And I don’t believe her.

I would be hating me if I was reading this too. I hate myself as I write it. As a rule, I always believe survivors. I know that their are fewer false allegations of sexual assault and rape than of most other crimes. I know that it’s extremely difficult to come forward as a survivor of rape or sexual assault, and that these disclosures are often met with heavy skepticism. I know these things. I hate the people who don’t believe these types of allegations. But again, having known this person for 3 and a half years, I find it very hard to believe.

Many of our previous conversations do not make sense now. She used to tell me that her psychiatrist suspected she had PTSD, but she had never been through any trauma. It was later determined that she experienced complex trauma (trauma that occurs over a period of time as opposed to a single incident) when she lost her stepmom to cancer. We had conversations about how that surprised her, because she had assumed PTSD only impacted soldiers and survivors of rape. She then spoke of her complex trauma regularly and casually. She mentioned having nightmares about her stepmom. She claimed to be triggered in hospitals (though that didn’t seem to apply whenever she was admitted). She never mentioned anything about a sexual assault. Once, she found out her previous priest was later convicted of child molestation, and she was worried that he had assaulted her and she had repressed the memory. She grilled her parents about it until they assured her that she had never been alone with him. She said the incident felt possible, because it would help to explain her PTSD. She has been extremely open about her mental illnesses and the past experiences that contribute to them. Yet she apparently hid this one thing. I am completely aware that a survivor of such a horrible trauma might not want to mention it, but why would she start related conversations only to lie? She has started saying she has 2 recurring nightmares; I assume she means 1 for each trauma. But she never said that before. It was always about her step mom. And in casual conversation yesterday, she implied that this new trauma was sexual in nature. It seems weird to hide something like that so well for years, tell someone for the first time for an unknown reason, then be able to talk about it casually a couple weeks later. I have not experienced rape or sexual assault, so maybe this is a normal pattern of behaviour, but it makes absolutely no sense to me. All these things taken together, along with my recent assessment that she actively seeks attention) make me skeptical of her claim.

But obviously, we can’t be friends anymore. Either she’s telling the truth, and she shouldn’t stay friends with an asshole who doesn’t believe her, or she’s lying, and I shouldn’t stay friends with someone who would lie about a rape for attention. Those are the only 2 possibilities, unless my belief changes. But I don’t know how that could happen. I certainly can’t ask her to explain our previous conversations. She likely wouldn’t react well to my questioning her story. So one of us is a shit person, and I will never know which one.

But what do I do now? I have nobody. And we live together. And we’re in the same tiny math department, so I would see her everywhere if we were to stop being friends before graduation. And everybody would take her side (I know I would, as a hypothetical mutual friend), so the friends/acquaintances I’ve made through her would be gone.

So I have figured out my thoughts and feelings on this matter, but I have zero solutions. I’ll just continue having no friends and being a reprehensible person.

Sarah

Today’s Crisis

I am low-key (high-key) freaking the fuck out, as I have been for around 3 weeks now. I’m sorry for unleashing all this negativity on the internet, but you don’t have to read it, so I think it isn’t my fault. Probably.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but my roommate/ best friend has been in the hospital for 2 weeks now. She started being super depressed 3 weeks ago, so that’s when the whole ordeal really started. I found out today she might be in the hospital for 4 weeks. I cannot fucking do this anymore.

I am having such a hard time, every single day, and I have no support. I didn’t realize until now that she was my support. And now I have no one. So I suck it the fuck up and rally every single day and remain the strong one because I don’t have a fucking choice. And she has a boyfriend and a million friends and her family and everybody in the whole damn world to support her, and it’s like she isn’t even trying.

I know that’s a horrible thing to say that somebody with a mental illness isn’t trying. And I don’t know if it’s just too terrible to think she’s really suffering this much, so I make myself believe it isn’t true, but it really fucking feels like she’s doing a lot of this for attention. Again, I know I am a piece of shit. But I can’t stop feeling this way. And I suffer from severe mental illness myself, so it’s not like I don’t understand depression. But I don’t see why she needs to self-harm in obvious places. I don’t see why she needs to tell everybody and their cat that she’s in the hospital. I don’t fucking know.

Now is where I become an even bigger piece of shit. She says she’s doing trauma therapy for a trauma she has never talked about before, and I don’t believe that it happened.

I realize how terrible I sound. I’m reading these words too. But for years, she has insisted that her only trauma was her step-mom dying of cancer. She was asked by doctors for years if anything like this new trauma had happened. And I know it makes sense to not want to talk about a traumatic experience, but we had multiple conversations about this. And why would she bring it up only to lie about it, if it really did happen? How could she seem so casual about it? I feel so strongly that she made this up recently for attention.

I am now re-evaluating everything that has happened since we became friends. And when I think about it, she does seem like an attention-seeker. She talks about having Bulimia with anybody who will listen 24/7. She tells everybody in existence when she’s having a hard time. She will casually talk about killing herself for a week. I’m not 100% convinced that this new analysis is correct; but it feels possible. Again, I know I’m a piece of garbage. But I know what it’s like to experience severe mental illness, and I still feel this way.

If this is the case, we can’t be friends anymore. I can no longer be friends with my roommate, my only support, and my friend of 3 and a half years. I have truly and honestly been fighting everyday to get better. And she seems very content to stay sick and reap all the attention that goes along with that. And that will hinder my efforts to improve my own health. But if I have to do that, then I really have nobody, and then my brain starts going to really dark places.

I don’t know whether these thoughts are true, some defense mechanism, or just me being a worthless excuse for a human, but they’re my thoughts. They’re thoughts I’m too ashamed to mention even to my therapist. I hate her and I hate myself simultaneously. Everybody is selfish. Everybody is a bad person. Everybody hurts people around them. I don’t know. Life has just been so hard lately.

The Ativan I took a while ago is really starting to hit me now, so I don’t know if any of this makes sense, and I definitely need to stop writing. I just needed to get that out there.

Sarah

Fuck it- Let’s do something exciting

I remember being an anxious person as early as I have memories at all. Needless to say, I’m not a huge fan of excitement.

I enjoy math because, for the most part, there’s only one correct answer. I enjoy knitting because it’s repetitive and straightforward. I like crosswords and Sudoku and basically anything you can do in bed while wearing pajamas. I love cats, because they’re as happy as I am to be a homebody. I like to do safe, predictable things, with my anxious thoughts providing more than enough excitement on their own.

But avoiding anxiety isn’t living. It’s cowering inside my tiny comfort zone, waiting for nothing to happen, but why? I don’t want to spend my life knitting and doing math and petting cats. Okay, that actually sounds amazing, but that’s not all I want to do. I want to be adventurous. I want to take risks. I want to be an exciting person.

So tonight, I’m going to do that. And I have to announce it, or I will 100% change my mind. I have been meaning to go to a gay bar in Toronto for months- possibly over a year. But my ex was no fun and my best friend always has some reason she can’t go. So I’m going to go alone. The bus ride will be 1.5 hours both ways at best, and I’ll be out at least 4-5 hours past my bed time, and I might have to dance, and holy shit my heart is beating so quickly.

But what’s the worst that could happen? I could get kidnapped or assaulted, or I could get too drunk to find my way home, or I could be so horrifically rejected that I fall into a deep(er) depression and never recover. Deep breath. Okay.

What’s the best that could happen? I make cool friends and find the love of my life and learn that I enjoy club dancing and say “fuck you” to my GAD, OCD, and SAD all at once. That’s pretty cool.

I won’t know which of these will happen unless I try. And I have handled some pretty shitty things… I think I can handle this. My heart is currently beating out of my chest… not sure when I became so terrified of living. But anyways, I will update you guys later. Still over 12 hours until this even happens, but the emotional preparation must begin now.

Sarah

UPDATE: GOT TOO SCARED OF GETTING KIDNAPPED AND/OR NOT BEING ABLE TO NAVIGATE HOME FROM TORONTO DRUNK. GOING TO LOCAL GAY BAR. SAME THING BASICALLY THOUGH.