*Trigger Warning: Talk of Depression, Anxiety and Suicide.*

Woke up a couple hours ago feeling pretty chipper. I’ve learned from a young age to not trust myself when I’m feeling this happy because I usually spiral into a rotten mood and bitter tears.

Ahhh, gotta love depression and bouts of shitty mania.

Depression and Anxiety
An accurate depiction of the inside of my head.


Pretty sure I’ve been depressed since I was a young child. Can’t really remember though because I’ve blocked a giant portion of my past memories. I tried to see a therapist once, but she looked like she was my age and I just couldn’t handle talking to someone who didn’t seem like she’d understand where I was coming from. I felt like I needed someone much older, who had lived through some shit and lived to tell the tale.

So I passed up on the therapy which led to skipping on the option for medication and spiraled through years of suicidal thoughts until I finally took the plunge and downed twenty prescription sleeping pills and woke up in a pile of vomit. I think I was fifteen when that happened. I remember crawling to the toilet and then waking up later that day in bed. I know someone found the evidence of what had happened and yet nothing was ever said about it. Ever. No trip to the hospital, nothing.

I thank God every day that I survived.

I really didn’t mean to tumble down into this pit of darkness and despair. I mean, realistically, this blog can’t be all sunshine and kittens. Even as I’m typing this, it feels like this happened to someone else and I know I’ve dissociated hard from the girl who’s been through so much that she felt the need to kill herself. I know it isn’t healthy to ignore it all. And yet I do.

I am a veritable pro at ignoring things that make me uncomfortable and unhappy. Into the NOPE box it goes to never again see the light of day.

In the last year, in my effort to maintain my self-care, I went through Facebook and unfollowed (and some unfriended) nearly every one of my 90 friends and family until I was left with a timeline of cute animal videos, recipes and the posts of maybe five people. I just did not want to see anything negative at a time when I was feeling incredibly vulnerable.

Self-Care can be dangerous. Because I’d went through and blocked everyone’s posts, it’s helped me lose touch with my friends and family. And because I work third shift and sleep during the day, it’s been made worse in that I’m losing touch with the outside world.

I think all the time that I’m getting cabin fever and make plans and then when it creeps up to actually going out for said plans… I break out in a cold sweat and my anxiety soars and I eventually cancel going anywhere. The thought of being around anyone besides my hubs just makes me tremble and want to cry.

My anxiety has gotten so bad that I’m finally ready to throw in the towel and get some help. I don’t know if I’m ready to rehash every terrible thing that has happened in my life but I think I’m more than ready for the sweet relief of depression medication.


9 thoughts on “THE COST OF SELF-CARE”

  1. Isolation feels safer, until it doesn’t, cause if you’re anxious about people and places your life gets smaller and smaller and that can lead to paranoia and (more) depression.
    Psychological self-care is scary, opening boxes of old crap and sorting through them is painful, but it’s so freeing! And then you can replace all the old crap with shiny new tools. You’re worth it. Go. Do it. ❤

    Liked by 2 people

    1. I’m already there with climbing paranoia. The paranoia really started setting in a few months ago and that’s when I truly decided I needed to get some help. Also, it’s been super therapeutic writing these blog posts and I’m loving it. I wish I had buckled down years ago and really dedicated myself to writing, but hey… better late than never, right? Thanks for the love, Joey. ♥♥♥

      Liked by 2 people

  2. This hits home on many levels. Depression is a relatively new experience for me (within the last 6 years or so) and I have also never taken any meds for it. I often wonder how different my life would be if I could muster the courage to talk to a professional. I’m pretty sure you already follow The Blogess who has indirectly, and even directly one time, helped me out. Until I get over the anxiety of talking to a live human about my problems I’ll have to content myself with the online community. You’ve heard it before, but remember, Depression Lies and you are not alone!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I wonder the same thing sometimes. I just turned 33 and my mental health has been in a serious decline for a couple years now, only just recently taking a nosedive into dangerous territory. I have some serious issues with mania and paranoia, too, that have recently cropped up. It’s not fun, at all. My husband, however, also suffers from all this wonderful bs, so he’s a true blessing when it comes to needing support. I’m very close to being ready to getting professional help, though. But hey, until we’re ready, let’s rely on each other and this fabulous community to try and keep our heads above water. ♥♥♥

      Liked by 1 person

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