and I’ll probably still be up 3 hours from now.
I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety and obsessive compulsive personality disorder (different from OCD) a few months ago. Though from what I can recall, I’ve always felt like this since I was five years old. How effin depressing right? A depressed and anxious five year old. I won’t delve much in to my history at the moment.
Even writing this makes me anxious, thinking “will people (who don’t even know me) judge me for this? For being an attention whore, talking about her first world problems in a third world country??”. Yes, I live in a third world country which makes it that even harder for people like me. Others aren’t really that accepting just yet. They’ll choose quack doctors over psychiatrists for goodness sake!!
Health care in our country costs an arm, a leg, and the soul of your unborn child. I guess I call myself lucky but I’m not rich by any means. I haven’t seen my psychiatrist in over a month, I was suppose to see her for my follow up but that’s when things started getting bad again. For no plausible reason really. Shit just got shittier.
Twenty minutes ago I was balling my eyes out as I was scrolling on pinterest, it’s a photo that says “I haven’t felt alright in a long time”. Melodramatic asian bitch right here. That line couldn’t have been more accurate, I can’t remember the last time I felt fine. I’m sure there were bearable moments but I can’t remember when I was truly overjoyed and not just contented. You see, for me contentment and happiness are two different states. ATM, trying my hardest to find the words to explain the difference but failing very hard. JSYK, English is not my first language. I apologize if I’m all over the place and surely there will be errors here and there.
I’m contemplating whether I should schedule an appointment for tomorrow to see my Psychiatrist or not. I know I should and I really need to but my anxiety is holding me back. Don’t ask me why, this is just how anxiety works. Making a big deal out of the littlest things. Even as I’m typing, my head’s thinking “Shit I’m gonna have some explaining to do tomorrow. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. There’s gonna be a lot of talking on my part (OBVIOUSLY) and I may or may sugarcoat things depending on what she wants to hear (such a people pleaser this girl).
YEP. Crazy.
Side note: There’s an 80% chance I’m taking my PRN anti anxiety medication and sleep like a baby and said baby shall wake up at two PM and regret will build up like a freakin volcano for wasting away the beautiful morning. It’s a cycle of a depressed, anxious person’s life.
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