Living rent-free in your head
I go to therapy twice a month. I sit on a couch and I ramble about all the insane things that bounce threw my head.
My therapist thinks I'm handling things well. My family had a meltdown and while I still had the immediate adrenaline flush, nausea and jittery feelings, I also turned on my guided meditation and laid down and found my peace again.
A year ago when my brother's behavior would trigger this I would stay in bed, I would dry heave in the toilet until I had petichae all over my face and I'd barely be able to function. So I guess it's getting better.
Ironically, the latest incident happened the Saturday after my last therapy session. I'd told her that I always wait for the next bad thing to happen. If things are good at work, home and health then I know the bottom will fall out of one. We talked about that for a bit, to take away the power of that thinking.
Then boom. It proved itself right this time.
I like to talk about therapy. I don't talk so much about the issues with my family that send me there, but I openly talk about being in therapy. I don't know who I'd be if I hadn't started going almost 20 years ago.
I haven't been going the entire time and I haven't been on anti-depressants the entire time, but I like to be open about the path I take to be the version of OK that I am.
This stigma about mental health, seeking help, taking pills (Prozac here), doing yoga, meditation. Whatever you need to fight the demons in your head.
My sister has tried to kill herself twice. I like to talk about what I do a lot, so that she'll at least keep doing what she needs to do.
I want everyone to talk about what they need to do to stay ok. I want everyone to stay OK.