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[yazminnoemi-blog]

My Semi-Charmed Mental Breakdown

Preface

Mental illness refers to a wide range of mental health conditions — disorders that affect your mood, thinking and behavior. Facing off with these disorders is a challenge especially when you don’t know what you’re doing. I use to think I had to defeat my mental illness on my own in one day. Throughout my life I have realized it’s an ongoing battle. You don’t just get to wake up one day and be like yay I’m happy and never going to feel that way again. Writing about these experiences has opened up my eyes to the fact that it’s a lifelong fight to deal with your mental illness. Sometimes you can’t defeat it, you just have to learn to live with it.

Thanks for joining the breakdown  

They love you, you belong. They love you, you belong. They love you, you belong. Over and over in my head I repeat those three words. If I say it in my head maybe I can wish it out into the universe. They love you, you belong. They love you, you belong. They love you, you belong. I said these last couple out loud because maybe that would strengthen the meaning behind it. Maybe it would make it more believable for me. Unfortunately there is still that nagging voice in the back of my head. They do not care. They do not miss you. You are forgotten. You are nothing! It screams over everything in my head telling me not to listen to the voice. All of the good memories, all of the phone calls, the texts, all of the kind words falling onto now deaf ears since all I can hear are the words being shouted at me from inside my head. You do not matter. You never mattered. You will never matter. It adds a dark film over all of the memories I use to look at with such happiness and shows me every mistake I made up until this point in my existence. It taunts me every day of my life. It has popped up in different forms throughout my entire life but it does have one quite general name: mental illness.

Depression; it is the first and most consistent form of mental illness that has impacted my life. It did not start with me. I watched my mom struggle with depression for years before I even knew what it was. When I was around the age of 4 or 5 I remember thinking my mom was a Disney princess because of how well put together and happy she seemed. She always had her make-up done perfectly, and when she was with my dad, they lit up the room.

. When I was about 9 everything changed. She stopped putting on her make up every day and caring how she looked. I could hear her arguing with my dad when she thought my sister and I had fallen asleep.  The most vivid memory that sticks out in my mind though was from when I was 11 years old. I came home to find my mom in bed. It was odd because it was 4pm and my mom did not get home until usually 7 or 8pm. When I walked into the bedroom to make sure she was okay my stomach dropped. Her eyes seemed so far off, kind of glassy and dead, and she had tears streaking down her face. The sight of her scared me but I figured maybe today was just a bad day. She had a couple of bad days here and there throughout the years so maybe today was just a really bad one. It turned out I was wrong because that bad day had turned into two bad weeks. She stayed in bed for two weeks, calling off work, barely wanting to leave her room. I could hear her in the room crying with the door closed but when I would knock and see if she needed anything she would yell out “I’m fine!” and “Mami will be all right sweetie”. Her hiding away in her room, denying her emotions, ignoring the breakdown is something I know she was taught. Always put on a brave face. Don’t let anyone see you break down; they will perceive you as weak. It is a lesson that my mother unknowingly passed down to my sister and me.

I noticed around 13 that I did not feel as much like myself as usual. The things I loved became boring and tedious. Learning new things in school became such an unsatisfying task that I had to be bribed into learning the coursework so I could pass. I was just barely getting by and I did not understand why everything changed. That is also around the time the voice started. Where no matter what I did right it found something wrong. Where a good time happened it would point out the bad. I started to put myself down and find the bad in any situation so I could have a reason for being so sad, so unlike myself. I waited for someone else to notice that something was wrong, because obviously if no one else sees anything wrong maybe I am just being melodramatic. How could I feel so out of place without anyone noticing a difference in me? Well I got my wish of someone noticing the minute I came home and told my parents that I never wanted to sing again. Singing was a passion of mine and I had done everything in my power to improve my voice up until that point. I had been in choirs, sang almost every song in the car, and even took voice lessons. The day I came home and told them I wanted to quit singing was the day I broke my parents’ heart and made them see just how different I had become. I broke down crying in the middle of the doorway, telling them there was no purpose to singing. “I’m not even good enough to do anything with it,” I exclaimed. “Why waste the time and money on me?” I told them there was nothing special with the way I sang and then I just shut down. I sat on the ground, wrapped my arms around my legs, and just sat there waiting for them to say something. Nothing they said would make me feel better but I knew they were trying. I heard there words like they were far off in the distance. “You are an amazing singer”, and “You are so talented”, and “Everything is going to be fine”, were all sentences that I can remember but I did not believe a single one of them.

Spiraling through the depressive states left me a little worse for wear but when the anxiety and panic attacks started it made everything ten times worse. I was in sixth grade when I had my first panic attack. I did not even realize it was a panic attack until years later when I thought about what had happened. I remember the day was a haze where all I could think about was getting home so I could curl up under my blanket and hide from the world. I ended up leaving school two hours early due to the fact that I was in the nurse’s office unable to breathe. My dad worked at the elementary school down the block so he picked me up and took me home. I could tell he was extremely worried by all the glances he kept casting my way on our walk to the house. When the door opened I immediately felt better. I walked to my room, changed into my favorite pajamas, and went to the living room to spend time with my dad. Being near him has always made me feel better and I hoped today would be no different. Before I made to the living room I heard him on the phone with my mom. I hid in the dining room trying to listen to what was happening.

“She told the nurse she was having a hard time breathing Raquel.” There was a pause which must have meant my mother was talking now. It was a long pause and when I took a peek around the corner my dad’s head was in his hands.

“No she’s fine now. We are going to hang out until you come home then we can talk more about it.” Another long pause and then a sigh. “I understand that but we can’t force her to talk to us. I don’t think she needs to go to the hospital but she does need to talk to someone. Honey we can talk more when you are home. Maybe I can try and figure out a bit more while we watch tv. I love you.” My dad set his phone down and I finally decided to come out from my hiding spot. I sniffled, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall down my face. I sit down next to him on the couch, wrap myself in the blanket, and lean my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around me and starts to rub my back.

“Sweetie, are you really okay? This doesn’t seem like a breathing issue since you are breathing okay right now. Did you want to talk about something?” When I looked into my dad’s eyes I broke down. I held onto him and started to sob.

“I just haven’t felt good all day. I had to present to the class and I messed up. Then I almost started crying in front of everyone. After that my chest started to feel tight and like I wasn’t getting any air. I almost passed out in class so then I went to the nurse. I was so scared you were going to say I couldn’t come home because I know the rule is if you aren’t bleeding or dying you need to stay but I really felt like I couldn’t make it.” I rushed through the story like my life depended on it. I felt like I was being so melodramatic but it was the only way to get away from school. I needed to leave that place so badly. It was so hard to have to face all of the people I thought were friends. I thought they were my friends and I am sure they made fun of me; I am sure none of them cared I left. Why would they care? I am just a place holder friend. As these thoughts spiraled through my head I started to get that tight feeling in my chest.

All I wanted was to be left alone and some peace and quiet. I thought pushing everyone away would give me time to work on me and make me better. I tried therapy, meditation, medication, and everything in between. Nothing made that empty feeling inside me go away. Sometimes I was able to distract myself from it. When I was younger I would use basketball as my get away, then I started high school and theatre was my new big distraction. I was still feeling that nagging, empty feeling but I focused all of my energy on the distractions instead of what was wrong. Senior year of high school it spiraled out of control.

I was walking home from school late one night after theatre had ended and decided I would take the long way home. I only lived about two miles away and it was nice to have some time alone. I was fine for about 5 minutes before the weird thoughts started. I would glance out into the road and the first thought that popped up would say “Just take one step out and it’ll be over,” or “How fast do you think a car would have to be going to just hurt you?” After about 3 more instances of comments like that I decided to put on my headphones and blast my music. I hoped it would distract me from the horrible thoughts I was having.

“No one would visit you if you got hurt. Who would care about a girl like you? All you do is whine and complain and nothing bad has ever even happened to you. You are a spoiled brat.” The music wasn’t drowning out the thoughts it was just giving them a backbeat, making it easier to remember them. After 15 more minutes I was hyperventilating and needed to sit down to count. One tactic I had learned to shut up the voices in my head was to count up to 4, tapping each finger on my thumb. On a good day I just had to tap but I days like the one I was experiencing I was practically shouting the numbers while digging my nails into my thumb.

Why isn’t it working? Why can’t I make the voices stop?!

“It’s because you deserve every bad thing that has ever happened to you. You deserve to be tortured like this, to know that everyone hates you even though you try your hardest to fit in. You would never fit in because no one could ever accept a piece of trash person like you.” The voice kept getting louder and louder, more horrible things being hurled at me as tears fell down my face. “You are pathetic. You are a waste of space that doesn’t deserve to take up other peoples’ time. Obviously no one cares about you. You are sarcastic, loud, and force yourself into other peoples’ lives when they don’t need or want you. Why do you think everyone keeps leaving? Why do you think-?” The voice finally shut up. I didn’t understand why until I felt the pressure on my forearm. I glanced down and saw that I had begun to dig my nails into my skin. I removed them only to see little drops of blood traveling down my forearm. I decided then that hurting myself was the only way to get the voices to stopped.

It worked for a bit, that was until my best friend noticed. I started to wear long sleeves and pants all the time since I had started to lose room on my arms to mark up, my legs were the next area to be attacked. It was a week before graduation when my best friend, Crystal pulled me aside and mentioned the change in my wardrobe.

“Yazmin, you hate pants. I don’t think I have seen you wear a pair unless it’s below 30 degrees. Now you’re wearing long sleeves AND pants. What is going on?” She looked at me with concern in her eyes. I couldn’t tell her what I was doing but I also couldn’t look her in the eyes and straight up lie to her. I was fidgeting with the sleeves when she lightly punched my arm.

“Hey dork. What is it? Is everything okay? You’ve been kind of distant lately and it’s scaring me. We can’t go off to college with you being all in your head all the time.” I took a breath and told her what I had realized.

“It makes the voices stop,” I muttered under my breath, rolling up my sleeve, “and sometimes they don’t start at all because I can sense when it’s about to start so I do this first.” I started to show her how I would dig my nails into my skin when she grabbed my arm and stopped me.

“Yazmin, you do that one more time and I am going to beat your ass.” I looked up to see a glaring Crystal and pulled my arm back.

“I just wanted to stop being told I was a piece of trash. I feel so worthless sometimes and the voices hurt more than the actual pain in my arm so I figured I’d choose one evil over the other.” I shrugged my shoulders, sat down on the ground, and stared at my feet. She sat down next to me and hugged me super tight and didn’t let go until I pushed her off.

“We all love you stupid. That voice in your head is not something you should listen to. Listen to me. I am your best friend and I will always be here for you. I will make sure that I tell you as much as I can how much I appreciate you. You are one of the best things to happen to me Yazmin and I can’t imagine my world without you in it.”

It dawned on me then all of the things that people had been trying to tell me throughout the years. Things including how important I was, how special I was, how worthwhile I was, and most importantly how much I was loved. My depression and anxiety have not gone away and that little voice in my head is still saying those horrendous things to me but I have learned to live with them and hopefully someday soon I will learn how to defeat them for good