micahmunet-blog

[micahmunet-blog]

2 years

As I look back on who I was 2 years ago, I can not imagine seeing myself past 20. Although it seemed as if everything was okay on the outside, on the inside, I felt like my life was tearing at the seams. Debating whether I wanted to live or not was a constant battle I struggled with, and to be quite honest, it’s something I still struggle with. But as I come up on my 2 year anniversary of my depression journey, I can officially say that it has been 2 weeks since I have torn myself apart physically, mentally, and emotionally, which is a huge deal to me.

I constantly find myself looking at myself in a mirror and not recognizing the person because it’s not who I wanted it to be. I find myself stuck in a pattern where one day I feel so good about myself and the next day just feeling absolutely terrible. It’s one thing being insecure, but I truly did not love myself, and to be honest, I don’t think I ever have. I can never remember a time where I felt comfortable in my own skin, where I felt beautiful. I have longed for that feeling ever since I was a little girl because I knew I deserved it. Hearing my mom tell me didn’t make me feel any better because she’s my mom.... she’s supposed to say that. I just wanted to see myself the way others did and I wanted to love myself the way others did because I truly didn’t understand why they cared or loved me when I didn’t love myself.

These past few weeks I’ve looked at myself and see no difference, but my thoughts are different. I don’t notice the shape or size of my body and my acne. I don’t notice the insecure little girl that was trapped for 10 years. I see me. A person who loves Jesus, her family, her boyfriend, her friends, her job, her dog, her school, the list carried on. I notice a person who is slowly releasing the pain and loving herself. I have never said that I loved myself in a confident manner, and I’m still not fully there yet. However, I’m thankful for the fact that I can say that I like myself. It’s time for me to be enough for myself first before anything else in this world. I’m not seeking to feel perfect, but rather seeking to feel whole again.

[micahmunet-blog]

Psoriasis

I have had my fair share of insecurities in my life, but my biggest one by far has been my skin. Not just because it covers my entire body and it is seen by everyone in the entire planet but because of how my skin reacts.

When I was younger, I played soccer for most of my life (12 years to be exact). At around 4th grade, I started developing really bad acne due to constantly being sweaty, oily, and out in the sun for hours on end. No one really had acne and I felt so uncomfortable with all the pimples I was presented with.

One day, I noticed I had a rash on my leg and that later developed into red patches all over my stomach, back, arms, everywhere. I didn’t even realize how bad it was until I went to the doctors and he told me it had moved all over my back. What I had was called pityriasis rosea which was flaky, itchy patches all over my body. Turns out, that my mom had it when she was 18 and that it was hereditary (go figure). The doctor even said that I would possibly get it again when I turned 18. Thank god I didn’t, but I was met with another unexpected problem.

When I was a sophomore, I started to develop a scab on my left elbow. It was extremely itchy and flaky and honestly just gross. I was so insecure about it that when people asked me what happened, I would say it was from soccer when in reality, I had no idea where it came from. My mom saw it one day and we went to the doctor and he just explained that it was eczema and it was nothing to worry about.

All throughout high school, my skin was sensitive to everything. I couldn’t wash my face with harsh products because it would irritate my skin, I couldn’t wear too much face makeup because it broke me out no matter what, and so many more problems. I always dealt with eczema when the seasons would constantly be changing because California can’t seem to make up its mind. However, in my senior year of high school, I started to get that weird flaky patch on the side of my face next to my eyebrow. It was there for a full year until I tried a chemical peel that took it away, while also clearing my whole skin of my acne.

Sophomore year of college, the infamous flaky patch on the elbow showed up again, but this time it was on the opposite arm. This time it was way worst than it had been before. It wasn’t until one day while I was at work where someone noticed it and asked what it was while their face showed a bit of disgust. In that moment, I just wanted to cry because It felt like high school all over again and I didn’t know what to say. It was in that moment where I decided that I was tired of dealing with all these skin problems where I chose to go to a real dermatologist to get answers and hopefully medication to take to help it go away.

At the appointment, the nurse asked me what I was experiencing, if it itched, how long it had been there, etc. When the doctor came in, I was just expecting her to say that it was eczema, give me an antibiotic and a cream, and I’d be on my way. However, she gave it one look and said that I had moderate plaque psoriasis, which is a chronic autoimmune disease where my skin cells generate rapidly and cause buildups, explaining all the rashes and bumps I had. It’s main cause is due to high levels of stress. Although this could be a lot worst, these rashes were still really painful, itchy, and just terrible to deal with. With the prescriptions she gave me I was able to get rid of them rather fast, but now as I type, they’re coming back but also on my legs as well.

I try to look on the bright side of things because this could’ve been a lot worst. This is just something in my life that I can spread awareness to because it doesn’t seem like something people talk about rather than “Kim Kardashian has that to” which is what everyone told me when I said the news. She has the money to get the absolute best treatment whereas me, I can’t hide it and I have to live with it. One scratch and my arm starts to flare up in bumps. Sometimes I just look at my skin and cry because I don’t feel beautiful, but I also thank my psoriasis for this because it only gives me a reason to find beauty within myself rather than on the outside, which is what really matters. So thank you skin for being a pain but for teaching me about optimism and that I should try it sometime.

Some tips if you meet someone with psoriasis:1.Do not stare at it

2.Do not ask if it’s painful (odds are that it is)

3.Do not say “don’t scratch it” (like we don’t already know)

4.Do not point it out!!!!!!

5.ITS NOT CONTAGIOUS

Sincerely,

Micah

[micahmunet-blog]

Suffering silently

Depression. Let’s talk about it shall we? Depression has become such a trendy word where it’s so hard to differentiate between if a person is actually being serious or is just joking to fit that “quirky” standard. For me, I have taken part in both.

Growing up, I found it so hard to speak out against my feelings and tell people about what I was feeling. I was extremely insecure because of bullying issues I dealt with as I began to form my identity, which only led to me repressing all my emotions to the back of my mind. I tried so hard not to feel these feelings because I had no idea what they were. I decided for myself that I would just suffer silently because I felt like I would be too much when in reality I should have never done that. I was in 5th grade.

I then began doing things that I loved and made friends with people who are now long term friends and everything seemed to go so right. I thought I was happy, and I felt like nothing was going to keep me from feeling my best. I had a few boyfriends, went to many school dances, found God, and decided to live a life through Jesus. Seems perfect right? I was a junior in high school.

College decisions came around and stress

began to build up and with stress came my anxiety. I found myself struggling to sleep and eat, and I was beginning to live a very unhealthy lifestyle. I was with a boy that I liked for 4 years and he was embarrassed to be seen with me. I hated that he didn’t want his friends to judge him for liking me, and I wanted to know why. I beat myself up everyday for not being good enough and those feelings of insecurity and sadness rushed in from, when I was younger,and I found myself struggling deeper and deeper with depression. I didn’t tell anyone. Ever. I would make jokes about being depressed, and it always got laughs, but it was never taken as me being serious. I was struggling in front of so many people, but I was able to hide it so well. It wasn’t until possibly the biggest fight I’ve ever had with my parents where I blurted out that I was depressed and didn’t want to be on this earth anymore. They fell quiet from our previous conversation, and things took an unexpected turn. I waited for someone to say something, and I looked to both my parents as they looked confused. They wondered why I didn’t tell them in the first place, and the truth is: I didn’t know how. I didn’t even know how to tell my friends that I was dying inside, when in reality, I couldn’t wrap my mind around it either. I was a senior in high school.

There comes a time where feelings demand to be felt, whether it’s sadness or anger or even happiness. I always felt that I was going to be judged for having these emotions because my life was turning out to be so good. I’m not here to bring up my past and tell people that I still struggle with these issues, but I’m rather here to say that there are people suffering silently that haven’t said a word because of the fear of feeling judged. Check up on your friends, your family, literally anyone in your life. Constantly remind those people how loved they are. Looking back, I wish I told someone sooner about how I was feeling because mental health isn’t something to joke about. I’m honestly so scared to post this so if you see this, then I found the courage to break down my walls to be vulnerable and bring awareness to depression. One last thing: It doesn’t hurt to tell a person that you appreciate them because you never know if just a few words can make someone feel whole again.

Sincerely,

Micah

[micahmunet-blog]

Just a girl in bed.

Dear whoever is reading this post,

My name is Micah Munet, and I’m not trying to be a writer, however, I’m laying in bed at 8:06 PM while watching Awkward, and I am beginning to see myself in Jenna Hamilton. From boy drama to my depression, I find myself with a lot of knowledge that isn’t necessarily talked about.  I’ve debated giving this whole writing thing a go, and as I watch this show, it’s given me the inspiration to start writing.  Not just writing to entertain others, but to entertain me and put my feelings into words. This post isn’t going to be your cliche “everything is going to be okay, but what it is going to be is a post that introduces myself.

I’ll start off with saying that I am 20 years young, birthed November 3rd, 1998.  I am a Mexican Puerto Rican, which I am very proud to be.  I am also a very devoted Christian/Follower of Jesus.  That is a whole story within itself, which I am very excited to write about.  I also have a boyfriend named Josh who I have been with for almost 2 years now.  The fact he’s still with me really baffles me, but I guess I got extremely lucky with him.   I am in my second year of college, majoring in Child and Adolescent studies, hopefully, to become a Special Needs teacher.  This is my last week of school before summer, and that’s a major contributing factor that led me to start writing because I knew I would have time.  

I guess something that I would like to get out of this whole writing thing is figuring out myself and figuring out what I want out of life.  Just this post alone has got me thinking about so many things I could write about.  I don’t think I’ve even thought this much about an essay because the information is right in front of me.  These posts are making me dig for the information that is my brain and hopefully giving insightful thoughts or ideas that could be a benefit to you.

Sincerely,

A friend