Every day is a fight. Some days more than others but it's never easy. Mix depression with social anxiety and add some sleep apnea and you’ll find me. Not only am I trying to find a way to keep it inside everyday but I'm trying to do it with little to no meaningful sleep. That is what this is for. Would therapy help? Probably. I can't afford it at the moment. Another hilarious story life has thrown at me was a broken arm 1 day after losing my health insurance. With all this it can be hard. Ridiculously constant arguing with my subconscious until I can't decide if I'm being rational or not hard. Unfortunately, my boyfriend can suffer those consequences also.
Going back to when it all started and I know really know when that was. I have very few memories from my childhood. I don’t know why really but I never slept. Recently my dad was diagnosed with sleep apnea and when the doctor was talking to him and my mother the first person my mom thought of was me. I've always been tired and sleeping for days with no end. I've never known the feeling of waking up rested. I don't believe in morning people or understand how they can be real. The first time I remember waking up gasping for air was in college. I think it took a few years to understand what was going on. Which I know I should have gotten checked out by now but life happens. This year I swear.
I grew up in a small town where everyone knew each other and drama ran wild. Being bullied constantly for being overweight or weird was the normal for me. At 15 I noticed a lump on my leg. I ignored it for weeks but it wouldn't go away. When I started gym class the lump seemed to grow but then started to go away. I never told anyone because it always seemed to get smaller again. I stopped doing anything in gym class because it started to hurt. I was sent to the nurse who told me it was blood bubbles and to wait it out. One day my family and I went Christmas shopping and after a while my leg was throbbing. I kept pushing though, never one to complain over a little pain, until I about passed out. I may have passed out I honestly don't remember much. I do remember telling my mom I had gone down over my leg hurting which was a total shock to her. When I told her about my mystery lump that at that time I had been dealing with for 6 months she was not happy. As any mom would be she was worried and took me to the doctor.
Quickly it went from the nurse’s diagnosis of blood bubbles to finding out I had two tumors on my bones. Blood tests, heart tests and family history seemed never ending at that point. My uncle died when he was 15 from a rare tumor disorder. I don't have any clue what exactly it was at this point but that made my parents worry the genetics might be back for round two. I was less then worried. My parents took all of that away from me and gave me no reason to ever think it would be anything. I never even thought cancer. Luckily a few weeks after the surgery my parents got a call that the tests came back and my tumors were benign. I wish I had the documents from that surgery but unfortunately the surgery has been basically erased from the system at this point (probably due to the lack of after surgery care). I remember being on bed rest for 1 month. After that 1 month was back to normal activity....no physical therapy or taking it easy. A short time after I was up and moving I felt something change in my leg. A new pain. My parents took me to the doctor but for the next two years I had endless x-rays and was told I was fine. I was told it was after surgery pain. I knew it wasn’t but they wouldn’t believe me.
I found out two years after the surgery I had broken my leg due to the bed rest to normal movement recovery. At that point it was too late. It had already healed. I had my second leg surgery from a doctor who didn't believe me. He called me a hypochondriac and repeatedly told me I was fine. I went home every day and cried in a ball from the pain. Me. The one who never complained of pain. I did this alone for a few weeks but my mom caught on. She was determined to find help. Two years later I had my third knee surgery. My knee cap was out of place and my forth knee surgery was for the same thing. One to rotate it back into the socket and another to keep it in place. I have no feeling in that area now since many nerves had to be cut through. The last surgery I was in college. It had taken seven years to be livable again. It still hurts daily but I can manage it now at least. I was told I will need a knee replacement but to wait as long as possible. My future in that area is very unknown but at the moment I can be “normal”.
I believe I didn't get depression solely based on that event but my family history of depression mixed with these events made me fall into it. I don't know when it started really. The first awakening moment I had was driving my mom’s car and just thinking to myself what if I drove off the road? What if I hit that guardrail? Almost as quickly as those thoughts came into my mind they quickly turned to others. I didn't want to hurt my mom’s car. That was the only thing keeping me from doing something stupid. Those dumb thoughts.... not wrecking my mom’s car. I think I was lucky that I immediately realized what was happening and decided right then I wouldn't do anything to myself. I would be strong. It took a lot. It was hard, but I did it. Every day was a struggle.
Maybe it would have been easier had I told someone or asked for help. I was ashamed. I didn't want anyone to know. Years later I learned my mom also suffered from depression since she was young. Since learning that I have always had someone to talk to. Someone that understands. Luckily for me she not only has gone through depression but also deals with the social anxiety that plagues me. I got all those genetics into one package. I don't feel bad about it. I'm glad it was me who got these issues and not my brother or sister. I could handle it and that's why I got it. They may have been just fine but I don't know. We will never know.
I recently told me sister about my depression. I didn't realize she never had a clue. She is 6 years older and when it began was already leaving home. We were never the same anyway. I was awkward and she was a social butterfly. I think in college is when I started to question why I had trouble fitting in. Why the simple things were a struggle.
It was after I moved to Hawaii that it hit me one day. I am socially awkward and that's ok. I've been forcing myself into situations recently that are out of my comfort zone. It's the only way I can be who I want to be and find a way to be social. I always feel out of place, like nobody wants me around. I have trouble interpreting people. Are they serious? Are they joking around? Are they inviting me out of pity? Do they know I am constantly trying to figure out what's going on? When I'm in a group my mind is racing. Where are my hands? Why are they looking at me? Am I making a face? Should I be? What if I talk and they just stare at me? Am I staring? Do they know I'm thinking this hard? They are taking a picture they probably don't want me in it....so I back out. I stay away. Even when I am invited into a picture I feel out of place like it was simply to make me feel like they wanted me there when they don't.
Since moving to Hawaii my depression has improved. I've always been a water baby so the ocean and sun have done a lot for me. That and walking. Recently with breaking my arm and already having debt it has come back. I was afraid of that when it happened. I tried to stay strong and be positive. I can’t change it so be positive. Easier said than done when you get an estimate over $10,000. I broke down. It allowed those feelings to return and I'm fighting hard to come back. I’m still in a battle where I potentially could be covered for the cost of the surgery and doctors but the unknown is scary.
I told my boyfriend a lot over the last year. I don't think a social guy like him understands the way you do if you've experienced it.
I never grew up thinking I would get married or have kids. I never thought I would find a guy I could put up with enough to want to marry and I have always been afraid of passing on my bad genes to a child. The moment I met him my world changed. I instantly knew I was going to marry this guy. I didn't think that was possible and definitely never thought I would have that happen to me. I don't know that he felt the same. He came around to liking me obviously but I don't know that he had that moment. It's fine I don't believe in sole mates anyway but maybe had he had that moment our lives would be different.
I trusted him in a way I never trusted another person before.... until I found out 6 months into dating he had been hanging out with his ex behind my back. They were still friends and he couldn't tell me? I told him always be honest and I won't be mad. Well I got mad. 6 months. It hasn’t stopped though. I went through his phone a few months ago (wrong I know) and found he had gone out for drinks and invited other people out to drinks just 9 months ago. I never brought that up. He knows I looked because I told him. He was texting another girl and I found it inappropriate. He told me she was his work stress relief. When he gets stressed he blows off some steam talking to her but it’s ok because she’s married. There are so many reasons why that is not ok. I should be his stress relief and what if her husband saw? If I found something wrong, he probably would too and he could get fired over it.
I know he has lied. I also know I work things up in my head due to my own issues that aren’t there. I read too much into things. Maybe what I find to be flirty behavior really is normal. I don’t know normal. I know awkward. I know he loves me. I don’t know why though. It’s a constant struggle to stop exaggerating things in my head and causing issues with us. I don’t know what to do sometimes. Is it me? Is he really doing something wrong? Can I ever trust him like I used to?
Through everything I have kept my sense of humor. I’m no comedian to say the least but that’s one thing getting me though. My number one reason I have had any improvement is my cat. I got him just before my senior year in college started. He would know when I was in pain, from my leg or my depression. He would make me laugh with his big ears and paws falling off of stuff and never graceful. He would calm me with his purrs. He gave me a reason to think ahead. What did I want? Where did I want to be? I deserve to be happy. He made me happy. I’ve had him for 8 years and I couldn’t imagine a day without him. I need that comedy. That 16 pounds of fur sliding into the wall in a hurry to get his breakfast. Meowing at me constantly and claiming his spot on the bed. I know he was the stray I rescued from the humane society but he really did save me. I owe him.
I'm not a writer, just trying to create my own therapy and find a way to allow myself to be happy.
Life is a joke, treat it as one.