It’s like a whirlwind inside of my head

Chester Bennington’s death left me breathless. I won’t go into what Linkin Park meant/means to me (hint: a whole damn lot). But damn it, it hurt.

I was already battling a pretty darn bad depression episode, and the news that he passed sent me to a dark place I hadn’t seen in a while.

Depression fucking sucks.

The past couple weeks have been significantly hard for me (for the people around me as well, I’m sure). It’s difficult to function, to get out of bed, to talk, to work. To exist.

I’ve been struggling with borderline personality disorder for almost 15 years now, and although this isn’t the worst major depressive episode I’ve been through, it’s still not good.

It’s the first major episode I’ve had since my mom passed away.

I deal with depression by isolating myself. Friends want to hang out, and I decline because, well, I feel like I’m not fun to be around. I fear that I’ll feel physically sick if I go out with them. I know most of it is a mental thing, but it terrifies me.

It takes me forever to fall asleep. My chest hurts due to GERD and anxiety. I keep crying at night because I can’t call my mom. I keep having dreams about hugging her again and hate waking up because I know I’ll never be able to do that again.

I miss her. I miss her.

The first year without her was hell, but I wasn’t aware the second one would be much worse.

All the medical issues I’ve had lately have definitely impacted my mental health, as much as I’ve tried to avoid it. I remind myself that my mother went through so much worse, and yet…

As hard as I try to channel my mom’s strength, it’s impossible sometimes.

I get scared. I get anxious. Tests come back and I’m informed I don’t suffer from anything serious, but sometimes the pain and discomfort is so awful I just want to stay in bed for days.

I think about the looming medical bills. Yeah, I have pretty decent insurance. But bills are still bills, and it’s overwhelming. I’ve lost count of how many doctor appointments I’ve been to since March. Four ER visits. Countless blood tests, CT scans, etc.

I haven’t been able to work as much as I used to, so yeah, that’s a source of stress.

Don’t stress out, that’s bad for you, I’m told, but how do I avoid it?

And you know what the funny thing is? I know I’m being whiny. I know there’s people who have it so much worse. I’ve seen people go through worse. I’ve been drowning in self-pity and I dislike myself for it, because I thought I had left that person behind a long time ago.

But mental illness doesn’t really go away. You learn how to deal with it, sure, but it never truly leaves.

At the same time, I’m lucky because I have an amazing support system. I don’t know what I’d do without my roommate (and her family), without my best friends, without my family, without my partner.

I’ve gotten support from so many people, unexpectedly, and I’m so grateful. I can’t thank people enough. Your kindness gives me strength.

I know this will pass. Like my grandma used to say, “nothing is permanent, not even this pain.” I’ll never forget those words she said to me, many years ago when I was a self-hating, troubled teenager.

I’d like to think I’m not that teenager anymore. I’ve been through much worse and I’m still here.

This isn’t permanent.

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