It is no secret that my mental health is a struggle. Even as I reread my last blog post, I can tell I was in a manic state. I have strong ideas and the switch to my filter gets turned off. I obsessed over that entry for three hours when it should have been 30 minutes at best. The themes are muddled. The point unclear. I skip around from one thing to another without a proper segue. At the time, it was lyrical genius. While I’m in a normal state at this moment, it’s almost nonsensical to some point. Whoever wrote it must really be an alien because it does not sound like me.
This is just a pinpoint to the many experiences I’ve had over the years that began as an idea, a thought, and spiraled onto almost hysterics. While I wrote my last entry, I was having suicidal ideations, rejecting any responsibilities, eating like garbage, and yet one moment I had an adventurous thought to write, I became enamored and elated, it felt cathartic and I became high. That’s all I wanted to do for the entire day. A day wasted on words that seem anxious and strange.
The comedown was frustrating and devastating. I was rejected from a job I interviewed for and that became a catalyst for a deep depression cycle that last for 4 days before I leveled out again. Rationally, the world would not end if I didn’t work there. I have faith that I’ll find a job and that I’m qualified and have a good resume. But when these “episodes” happen, rationality goes straight out of the door and at times can spiral into what my boyfriend and I referr to as “The Honey Incident”.
Back in 2013 I was in another depressive episode. I was drinking a lot. I was eating garbage. My job made me unhappy. Nothing made me happy. Many days, I’d find myself sobbing in the bathtub and self-harming.
These days, I can at least start to recognise when I’m nearing a breakdown and try to catch it before it happens. Having my boyfriend understand and point it out helps so much. But back then, I was untreated, pre-PTSD diagnoses, pre-therapy and self medicating with alcohol. I had not fully began to understand myself and my mental health. I was in denial.
The honey incident referrs to the day I opened the spice cupboard and couldn’t find the jar of honey I had in there. Most people would probably go buy new honey once they realized it was gone, right?
Wrong.
When the jar didn’t return to it’s normal place, I began to get paranoid. I accused my boyfriend of hiding it and would become very upset every time I’d open the cupboard and it was still missing. I looked everywhere and could not find it. I obsessed over the honey…A jar of fucking honey.
Then, when I was driving home from work, cars started following me and the suicidal ideation followed.
I found the jar of honey not too long after I made a decision to seek medical help. It was in a different cupboard. It had been there the entire time.
If I had not had the support of my boyfriend, who knows how bad I could have been.
Since then, I’ve had a couple of episodes that borderlined the extremes of the honey incident. Back in August I thought I was being followed by cars again. I start to stay home more and become more flaky. I become depressed. I eat like crap. I sleep all the time. People’s words and Facebook posts feel like an attack , even when they have nothing to do with me.
I try to be creative in these times because it gives me something more healthy to obsess over. At least if I’m writing or making jewelry, I’m not bombarded with obsessive thoughts that evolve into paranoia. These days I know I’m not being really followed by cars even though my mind wants to convince me otherwise.
I haven’t had a drink in 8 months, I’m making appointments for mental health professionals again, and I successfully completed 8 months of EMDR therapy. I feel another honey incident coming on, but the difference this time is that I’m more conscious of the red flags and know it for what it is. I don’t always know when it begins or when it escalates at first, but I’m lucky to have a partner who is conscious of it for me when I can’t be. He’s amazing and I know he struggles right there with me.
When I’m depressed I feel guilty for him. He could be with someone not crazy. I don’t deserve him. But he’ll be right there coaching me through it despite my guilt. Every single time.
I’m starting to level out again and hopefully will avoid another full fledged honey episode. Even if it does come, I know I can get through it. Support and safety planning helps. Don’t be afraid to seek help before it gets bad. I’m the type of person who used to suffer in silence, but I’ve had to unlearn that to stay safe and it is hard but worth it. You’re worth it. We all are, to feel safe from our own minds.