Holy Fucking Shit I Feel Amazing
I just wanted to set this down in writing before the wonder and newness of it wear off:
I'm happy.
Finally.
I'm waking up, happy. I'm falling asleep, sober and happy. These past few days, I've spent the majority of my waking hours in a state of relative contentment.
It's crazy! It's wonderful! I'm out of my fucking mind that it's working, that it's finally working, that I can talk to people easily, and can notice the warm breeze outside, and can laugh easily, or even at all.
I had forgotten how it was, being like this. I haven't felt this bright and passionate and sure of myself since I was about twelve, before puberty hit and all but a scant trace of my good feelings left the scene.
While I was pretty sure before this that I'd been really depressed since the age of 13, now that I'm up, back to normal, I know it. I know it for sure.
People: I have been depressed for half of my life. Just stop and think about that for a second. Half of a life, spent feeling like you're poisonous to everyone around you, like you have no worth or discipline or real talent, like you'll never be able to have real friends or do normal things because everybody secretly hates you.
For half of my life, I have struggled against this anxiety and this horrible feeling while sitting in class, while trying to do my homework, while living with other people, while falling asleep (oh yes, especially while falling asleep), and first thing in the morning, before my eyes fully opened, when an unformed, powerful sense of, "Oh SHIT, not another day, I'm already fucking everything up and doing everything all wrong and I'M ALREADY FAILING AT EVERYTHING I HAVE TO DO TODAY AND I JUST CAN'T DO ANY OF IT," uncoiled itself in my chest, and I had to push and push and push against it just to throw back the covers and set my feet on the floor.
That sense of, "You do not deserve attention."
That sense of, "Everyone is secretly laughing at you."
That sense of, "No one wants to hear what you have to say, because it's stupid and immature and boring and probably really self-involved and definitely uncool."
I am amazed that I managed to get into MIT under those circumstances. I am even more amazed that I managed to graduate (believe me, it was really a struggle) with a degree in one of its harder disciplines. I am amazed that I managed to have friends, lots of them, seemingly in spite of myself. I am amazed that I managed to date people, to have any positive relationships, and I am amazed that I managed not only to do all of that, but also to lead other people while trying to bear up under such a profound lack of self esteem.
I am, frankly, amazed that I managed not to kill myself, despite all of the times that it seemed like a really, really good idea, like the only sane thing to do, like the only thing remaining at which I could feasibly succeed.
I am just. Fucking. Amazed.
I am also fucking amazed at how powerful I feel, now.
I am amazed at the depth and range of the feelings available to me, of the colors and shades of feelings that have returned to me.
I am shocked and amazed to find how absolutely they had been missing, at how resigned I was to never feeling them again, at how I had even forgotten that they existed since they had been gone for so very, very incredibly long.
I am amazed at how level-headed I feel, and how calm.
I am amazed at how easy it is to talk to people, and to tell them what I'm thinking.
I am amazed at how much kinder and solicitous I feel towards everyone (even towards myself!), and by how grateful I feel for all sorts of weird, random things. (These last two are the ones that've surprised me the most, thus far.)
I am amazed when I look in the mirror-- I don't recognize myself. My face has, literally, changed. Everyone comments on it-- I look relaxed now, and happy. (The corners of my mouth don't turn down, after all! And I thought that just was the way my face was! I thought it was genetic!) Some people even say I look younger, and that makes me both giddily amused and poignantly aware of how large of a toll depression had been taking on me.
My skin has cleared up, and my hands aren't cold. In fact, my whole core temperature seems to have risen by a degree. (Do you remember how I was always cold, and was always wearing long sleeves and sweaters long after everyone else had graduated to tank tops and T's? Now I can actually sit in my office without a coat on.)
I'm waking up before 2pm on the weekends, and unconsciously dancing along to the music on the radio. I'm no longer sweating bullets while driving in traffic.
I am actually having some thoughts along the lines of, "You're pretty badass, Laurel, do you know that? You're fucking badass!"
(I mean, not every second of every day, but such thoughts do occasionally find me, now.)
I feel like an interesting person, now.
I feel as if people rather enjoy talking to me.
I feel like I really can accomplish things, like my success is deserved, and like there's hope for a bright and happy future.
I feel confident in my ability to handle things.
I feel like I can-- and do-- have the wherewithal to spread joy to other people!
Ah, man-- I could go on and on and on, but the best news is:
All of this? This comes after only FOUR DAYS of taking my antidepressant. Only four days, people! According the doctor, the effects will keep ramping up for two weeks! (I am, yes, amazed that they worked so incredibly quickly. I thought they were supposed to take much longer to have an effect, but... no! Apparently not! Apparently, I caught a break for once!)
I feel amazing.
I want to hear from all of you, now that I'm equal to the task of talking.
And guys? Happy spring!
I'm happy.
Finally.
I'm waking up, happy. I'm falling asleep, sober and happy. These past few days, I've spent the majority of my waking hours in a state of relative contentment.
It's crazy! It's wonderful! I'm out of my fucking mind that it's working, that it's finally working, that I can talk to people easily, and can notice the warm breeze outside, and can laugh easily, or even at all.
I had forgotten how it was, being like this. I haven't felt this bright and passionate and sure of myself since I was about twelve, before puberty hit and all but a scant trace of my good feelings left the scene.
While I was pretty sure before this that I'd been really depressed since the age of 13, now that I'm up, back to normal, I know it. I know it for sure.
People: I have been depressed for half of my life. Just stop and think about that for a second. Half of a life, spent feeling like you're poisonous to everyone around you, like you have no worth or discipline or real talent, like you'll never be able to have real friends or do normal things because everybody secretly hates you.
For half of my life, I have struggled against this anxiety and this horrible feeling while sitting in class, while trying to do my homework, while living with other people, while falling asleep (oh yes, especially while falling asleep), and first thing in the morning, before my eyes fully opened, when an unformed, powerful sense of, "Oh SHIT, not another day, I'm already fucking everything up and doing everything all wrong and I'M ALREADY FAILING AT EVERYTHING I HAVE TO DO TODAY AND I JUST CAN'T DO ANY OF IT," uncoiled itself in my chest, and I had to push and push and push against it just to throw back the covers and set my feet on the floor.
That sense of, "You do not deserve attention."
That sense of, "Everyone is secretly laughing at you."
That sense of, "No one wants to hear what you have to say, because it's stupid and immature and boring and probably really self-involved and definitely uncool."
I am amazed that I managed to get into MIT under those circumstances. I am even more amazed that I managed to graduate (believe me, it was really a struggle) with a degree in one of its harder disciplines. I am amazed that I managed to have friends, lots of them, seemingly in spite of myself. I am amazed that I managed to date people, to have any positive relationships, and I am amazed that I managed not only to do all of that, but also to lead other people while trying to bear up under such a profound lack of self esteem.
I am, frankly, amazed that I managed not to kill myself, despite all of the times that it seemed like a really, really good idea, like the only sane thing to do, like the only thing remaining at which I could feasibly succeed.
I am just. Fucking. Amazed.
I am also fucking amazed at how powerful I feel, now.
I am amazed at the depth and range of the feelings available to me, of the colors and shades of feelings that have returned to me.
I am shocked and amazed to find how absolutely they had been missing, at how resigned I was to never feeling them again, at how I had even forgotten that they existed since they had been gone for so very, very incredibly long.
I am amazed at how level-headed I feel, and how calm.
I am amazed at how easy it is to talk to people, and to tell them what I'm thinking.
I am amazed at how much kinder and solicitous I feel towards everyone (even towards myself!), and by how grateful I feel for all sorts of weird, random things. (These last two are the ones that've surprised me the most, thus far.)
I am amazed when I look in the mirror-- I don't recognize myself. My face has, literally, changed. Everyone comments on it-- I look relaxed now, and happy. (The corners of my mouth don't turn down, after all! And I thought that just was the way my face was! I thought it was genetic!) Some people even say I look younger, and that makes me both giddily amused and poignantly aware of how large of a toll depression had been taking on me.
My skin has cleared up, and my hands aren't cold. In fact, my whole core temperature seems to have risen by a degree. (Do you remember how I was always cold, and was always wearing long sleeves and sweaters long after everyone else had graduated to tank tops and T's? Now I can actually sit in my office without a coat on.)
I'm waking up before 2pm on the weekends, and unconsciously dancing along to the music on the radio. I'm no longer sweating bullets while driving in traffic.
I am actually having some thoughts along the lines of, "You're pretty badass, Laurel, do you know that? You're fucking badass!"
(I mean, not every second of every day, but such thoughts do occasionally find me, now.)
I feel like an interesting person, now.
I feel as if people rather enjoy talking to me.
I feel like I really can accomplish things, like my success is deserved, and like there's hope for a bright and happy future.
I feel confident in my ability to handle things.
I feel like I can-- and do-- have the wherewithal to spread joy to other people!
Ah, man-- I could go on and on and on, but the best news is:
All of this? This comes after only FOUR DAYS of taking my antidepressant. Only four days, people! According the doctor, the effects will keep ramping up for two weeks! (I am, yes, amazed that they worked so incredibly quickly. I thought they were supposed to take much longer to have an effect, but... no! Apparently not! Apparently, I caught a break for once!)
I feel amazing.
I want to hear from all of you, now that I'm equal to the task of talking.
And guys? Happy spring!