Anxiety & Depression: Stephanie's Story: Part 1

There are so many people who deal with anxiety and depression. Below is the story of a friend of mine, in her own words. (Names have been changed). After this friend of mine read some of this blog, she sent me her story. I was amazed. I had NO idea she had been through these experiences. Below you will find just part of her story. Watch for more!

"My depression/Anxiety began to affect me in Jr. high – and would continue untreated and unexplained into High School. At the times my sufferings/symptoms included uncontrollable emotionless feelings – which led to me having “tantrums” (Which was explained later to me that I was trying to feel some sort of emotion, ANY emotion would be fine – and it’s easiest to create angry, hostile emotions than it is to create happy ones.) When I say tantrums I mean sobbing that isn’t able to be stopped, or I wouldn’t eat, or I would sleep for hours or I would tense up so badly that my fists would go white and I’d pierce the palms of my hands with my finger tips without realizing the pain. (Later called: Emotional black outs). At the time, my family didn’t understand what was happening, my dad thought I was an emotional teenager, my mom said I just needed to not take things so seriously.  I began doing research after I had read a segment on depression in a health book. I began begging my mom to take me to a therapist, I told her something was wrong with me and I needed help. She refused time and time again. Finally- One day (Around 16 years old) I came home (in the middle of an emotional blackout) unable to stable myself – I was sobbing and numb and I then stopped breathing… My mom held me to her and stroked my hair and repeatedly whispered in my ear – “feel me breathe, copy my breath, feel me breathe, copy my breath.” I was able to steady myself, focusing on her breathe allow my mind to remember to breath. I told her to help me – and she agreed.

Finding a therapist wasn’t easy – we went to several offices trying to find the right one. One lady was way too pushy, and another one seemed to not really care what I was saying – one therapist even asked my mom more questions than she was asking me. A few appointments later I met my therapist who saved me – his name is Spencer. Through many, many therapy sessions we dug and dug into my mind and started to find some underlying problems to what was causing my anxiety – which then in turn became depression. One of the biggest things was that I was a perfectionist. If things didn’t go exactly prefect or if I didn’t do 100% amazing on something it destroyed me inside, but because I didn’t know how to talk about it or let it out it became a huge black spot inside of me that just grew and grew until it actually ate me whole and I couldn’t do anything. It took away my ability to feel emotion – which is by far worse than feeling an emotion. When someone asks you “what is wrong”, you answer, “I don’t know” – then they ask “well what do you feel?” and you answer, “I honestly don’t know that either.” Those people asking the questions are often offended that you won’t open up to them, but you can’t truly understand that until you feel what being emotionless feels like. Spencer taught me to understand that I wasn’t an angry and hostile person that was just the only way I could cry for help from beneath the black shadow. He told me that I was stronger than the blackness and that now that my mom and family knew what the problem was it would be a lot easier to fight him. Simply knowing that this “black shadow” had a label I could then begin to make tangible goals for moving towards the future.

Things started to become better – I could talk myself through things, and I was able to go through the days breathing and not having the need to break down. I began feeling emotions again. I had forgotten how good it felt to be excited for something, or feel like something was worth doing. When I was younger I used to sing all the time to every song on the radio – as I began to come out of my shell and out from behind the darkness I heard myself singing and realized that it was an unfamiliar sound – And I vowed to myself that I would never stop singing again." 

Thanks to my dear friend, "Stephanie." Watch for more parts to her story.

Are you interested in sharing your story? Email me here: chelseaapeart@gmail.com