Between a rock and another rock under miles of ocean
Every time I think I’ve finally gotten myself over a really difficult hill, I find that I’ve really just been resting on a plateau and there’s still more to climb. I don’t fall backwards but all I can see is the towering mass in front of me that’s waiting for me to conquer it. That’s about where I am right now.
Almost year ago to the day I wrote this post and rereading it now it’s crazy to think that I’m in the exact same mindset. I’m feeling lost but like I can’t reach out to anyone because everyone I know is struggling with something right now. Sure, I could fall back on old bad habits where I text someone to make them feel guilty and then they talk to me out of pity, but I’ve worked really hard to step away from that and I don’t want to go back. Not only is it just terribly unhealthy, it’s so completely unfair to the person on the receiving end. No, I’m definitely not going there.
I could fall back to other bad habits… the really unhealthy ones that aren’t just mentally taxing but physically as well. They’re always there at the back of my mind just itching to be used, but they aren’t coping mechanisms. They’re just ways to deal with the current moment when the current moment is too difficult to deal with. Then when you’re done you have to deal with what’s actually going on and what you did to try and cope. No, again, not an option.
So what am I left with? I try to do healthy things but when it gets too hard I can’t even manage that. My thoughts lately have been… not that great. Leaning towards the bad, actually. My journal is just a series of messy ramblings telling myself how horrible I am. Well, that’s about as unhelpful as it gets. Food can be comforting, but when you’ve gained as much weight as I have in the last year food becomes the last thing you want (even though it’s also the #1 thing you want).
I feel as though I’m trapped in a room with several doors to choose from but behind each door is something terrible. They each have varying levels of terrible, but they’re all pretty bad. So I either conquer one of them and see what happens next or I just stay in the room and figure out how to deal with it.
The room doesn’t even seem metaphorical at this point because here I am, 13 months later, still sitting in my apartment. I’ve received my 1st COVID shot and will get my 2nd in 10 days. Most of my friends here in NY have also received at least their first shot at this point so that’s comforting and reassuring. It’s nice to know that maybe in another month I could actually be out in the world with the people who make life worth living… but that’s still at least a month away. What do I do until then?
Once again, I’m stuck.
And, like always, I know I’m not alone. I know so many people struggling through different things right now, fighting demons we know nothing about. Maybe if one of the doors in my metaphorical room lead to one of their rooms then we could sit and struggle together, but mental health is such a lonely animal. It’s the thing that we’re dealing with that even if someone else is too, you don’t talk about. It’s the thing that you keep secret… but why? Why, in 2021, is it still taboo to speak openly about mental health?
I’ve been in and out of therapy since I was 13. I was on medications for 21.5 years. If there’s one thing I pride myself on it’s the fact that I’ve always been open and honest about that but sometimes I wonder if that’s actually having a negative impact. I always thought that if I were honest about my mental health that it would encourage others to do the same, but maybe me constantly being open about it makes my cries for help fall on deaf ears? Yes, this is something I wonder about constantly. It’s not necessarily “the kid who cried wolf” but who are you more likely to help: the person who is always talking about their struggles or the person who never does?
We want to help everyone and be there for everyone while also tending to ourselves, but we only have so much to give. I think that’s what’s happening right now. People are stretched so thin that they’re on the verge of breaking… and a lot of people are breaking. I feel like I’ve broken and come back together so many times over the last year that I practically look like a mosaic with all the pieces being glued back together. Unfortunately it feels like there’s no one to hand me the glue because everyone else is trying to piece themselves back together at the same time.
So where does that leave me? Stuck in another rut, on another plateau, left treading water in the middle of the ocean? I’ve been pulling myself out for so long now that I’m simply exhausted and don’t know how many more times I can do that. It gets to the point where you want to just stay stuck, jump off the mountain, or stop trying to keep your head above water. It’s all so exhausting.
My hope right now is that in another month or two when life really starts to feel like life again that this constant ebb and flow will stop. Hope is all I have… it’s all I’ve ever had.
I guess I have to just keep holding on…
- Danielle
