It has been years since I’ve posted here, and I feel like I should explain what happened. For a sense of closure on both sides if nothing else. I have referenced issues with my mental health before; I have a family history of depression, anxiety, and ADHD. But I never really could face the fact that I had at least two of the three, nor the courage necessary to address it properly, so it was untreated for most of my life. Part of the way I was raised I guess, one side of my family struggled with mental illnesses and the other considered mental illness a sign of weakness. Something that could be ignored if one was just strong enough and focused on what was outside of them instead of inside. I’ll give you one guess on which side I was raised by.
I had lived with it for many years, in retrospect I can clearly see dips in and out of depression and the way my quality of life was hurt by unacknowledged both the depressions and anxiety issues. But mostly I was able to deal with it, I’d have a depressive episode that lasted for a few weeks, maybe a few months, before the normal course of life helped me back out of it. Then I started working on H. While I truly enjoyed my time working on the game, it was extremely isolating. First as in simple physical isolation, working from home with my only contacts being through a discord window was not a healthy way to live. But it was also socially isolating in the sense I was never comfortable talking about my creation with local friends and family. Which triggered even more anxiety which encouraged even more isolation. Which triggered even more anxiety and depression. And I’ve always struggled with negative self-talk/automatic negative thoughts. The only voice I heard was my own and it was always hostile, reinforcing the downward spiral.
Which is what happened to me. By 2019 I had pretty much cut myself off from most of the people dear to me, almost all of my interactions through a discord window or hearing myself tear myself apart. I was already in a deep depression well before COVID hit, suddenly the isolation and distance I had already imposed on myself became part of the public good and the bottom fell out of my mind. I could barely get up and feed myself, struggling with the basics and even just getting out of bed every morning. On my good days it was all I could do to maybe go for a walk, get groceries, and move funds around so I could pay rent for another month. Bad days, of which there was many, I couldn’t even leave the apartment. Was just dead inside while I watched the world go by. And I spent years like that until the money finally ran out and I had to choose to live or die. I had already convinced myself that my life wasn’t worth living so I attempted suicide.
Fortunately, I woke up finding myself in a bloody bathroom and finally had a moment of clarity. I called 911 and was brought to a nearby ER where I spent a week under 24 hour supervision while they found a mental hospital that was able to take me in. I spent nearly a month there, working with therapists and peers trying to put my mind back together. Helping me find reason to live, effective medications, and reconnect with my family. Fortunately my family has been incredibly supportive and took me back in while I continued my treatment. Another month in a Partial Hospitalization Program where I was in therapy for 30+ hours every week understanding my own mind, developing skills to counteract my own self-destructive thoughts, and talking with my peers struggling with their own mental health. Most of whom are also suicide survivors, helping me to realize that my struggles aren’t unique and there are methods that genuinely help. I am now down to an Intensive Outpatient Program, 10 hours per week, and am working to rebuild my life. Which will take quite a while; my physical, emotional, social, and financial health were all nearly destroyed through neglect and self-sabotage. I’m growing more confident I will succeed every day, even being able to write this to you all is a major step in my recovery.
Which is one of the reasons I’m writing this. Partially because I think you all deserve to know what happened to me, partially because its part of my own healing process, and because hopefully it will be a cautionary tale for anyone who reads it. Take your mental health seriously. There is no shame in seeking help for mental health issues, no more than there would be in going to the hospital if you broke your leg. Both can absolutely destroy your quality of life and both are treatable. So if you struggle with depression, self-esteem/image issues, anxiety or anything else, please seek help. Things can get better if you can get yourself to a point where you can just ask for it, that I am sure of.
Ker
