Beginning in the Middle

7/24/12

Look at me, already breaking the far too lenient schedule I gave myself. "Every one-two weeks." Sure. I can tell myself that all I want, but that won't make it happen.

I'm not sure exactly how long it has been, but I know it's been longer than I intended. I actually drafted the beginning of a chapter a while ago, while I was feeling a little upset for no good reason. But I didn't like it, so I started over.

So I suppose there are some things I need to explain.

When I was so rudely interrupted by the spontaneous forced ending of my previous story, I was about to go to the doctor. As some of you know, my last experience with a doctor was not exactly pleasant. In short, I talked to the doctor about depression, and she recommended a therapist, but I didn't get a diagnosis, and on top of that, my mom told me that she didn't think therapy would help much. This lead to my first experience with self harm. At the time, I felt like all of my hope was gone, and nothing could ever get better. I started hiding what I felt, because I knew it would just upset my mom. Consequently, she thought I was getting better, all talk of seeing a therapist ceased, and the scar on my wrist got deeper.

I guess it's not all because of the trip to see the doctor, but it has made me associate doctors with negative experiences. I really don't blame anyone, though. If anything, it was my own fault. I shouldn't have hidden the way I did. It was just the only way I could cope. I can see now where I went wrong, but I still find myself reluctant to say anything when I'm upset. My mom asks me every so often if I'm okay, and I always say yes, whether or not it's true.

Anyway, that's off topic. The point is, I was nervous about going to see the doctor, although we did go to a new doctor this year. Everything was complicated by the fact that I don't know how I feel anymore. And I'm about to go off topic again, I just can't get this to go in the proper order! Oh, well.

So, since summer started, and even a bit before that, everything has been...different. I think it's at least partially caused by the absence of school, and with it the absence of our classmates. Either way, I've been feeling a lot better recently. I have had a couple off days this summer, but for the most part, I have been considerably more happy. And it actually started a few weeks before the end of summer. In addition, I've gotten closer to my friends and better at going out to new places. It has been a major improvement. However, there are three issues with this (I know, only I could possibly find issues with happiness) :

1. On the few occasions that we had to return to school for club meetings, my social anxiety has almost completely regressed to it's previous state. In the past few weeks of summer, I had nearly convinced myself that I was making the whole thing up, due to my rapid improvement once I was away from judgemental classmates and awkward situations. But there is something about the school atmosphere that never fails to make my stomach clench and my heart race, even if we aren't going to class. Especially if we aren't going to class. Class has actually never bothered me, besides my obvious problem with having to participate in discussions. Anyway, it has lead me to believe that once school returns, there is no way I'll be able to keep up my improvement on my anxiety. Even thinking about it has caused me to be too anxious to sleep the past few nights. (Hence my writing this at 1 in the morning.) And I'm fairly sure that once my anxiety returns full-scale, my mood will inevitably worsen. There's no point pretending; even though I think part of my depression is biological and unaffected by everything else, at least part of it is definitely caused by anxiety.

I say that as if I have any idea what I'm talking about. I'm no proffessional.

2. I'm torn between wanting desperately to get better and needing to know that I'm not crazy. If it goes away now, I'm just another angsty teenager. But if I get a diagnosis, go through therapy, and get better slowly, then not only do I have a real excuse, an official pardon for my problems, but I also don't have to worry about dealing with a recurrence by myself; I would have the experience to deal with it.  In addition, a lot of who I am in my own eyes is involved with my anxiety and depression. I know that's not a good thing, but it really affects how I see myself. Which is partially why I noticed the recent change so much; it's like I'm a different person. And if I get rid of this on my own, I just lost half of myself. I'm no longer "special". It's sick, but it's true. So I wasn't sure what to say to the doctor, whether to even mention the depression that has been mostly absent for nearly two months, longer than ever before. I don't even know what I'm feeling now.