I had this awful dream last night where I was housesitting for my neighbors, and I accidentally killed about ten of their animals by neglecting them. I only found out that the animals were dead because my family came over and my mother interrogated me about the well-being of the animals, which resulted in my mind flooding with overwhelming suicidal thoughts (irrational, I know) to the point where if I hadn’t woken up, I would have put myself out of my misery. The scary thing about this is that when I woke up, I was more worried about all the animals I neglected than about the fact that I was suicidal and (in the moment) not even afraid to end my life. I wasn’t able to stop thinking about this at all that day, and I’m concerned that my dangerous thoughts are returning again.
I had another horribly awful dream last night; I was lying in bed asleep and my dad came to wake me up. Somehow, he knew I was super depressed and wanted to cut myself, so he very aggressively woke me up and began taunting me and making fun of my want to injure myself. He knew I was trying not to hurt myself, so he began saying that if I wasn’t going to cut and scratch myself, then he would do it for me because he knew I wanted to feel pain. He then took a blue crayon; I remember very specifically it was a blue crayon; and he scraped and cut over 50% of my right arm and leg while I was crying into my mattress trying to get away from him.
Later, when I had to be around people, I wasn’t able to hide my injuries or tell anyone what happened. It was mildly traumatizing to say the least. It continued onto some strange irrelevant events before I woke up and realized what I had dreamt. I had to see my dad that day, and I was so scared about it because my mind was spinning with thoughts like what if this actually happened or could happen plus the urges and thoughts about hurting myself. I was so tempted to give in, and I felt that I was unable to fight or resist them.
A couple nights later, I had this dream where when I arrived at school and moved in, I learned that they put me in the wrong room which was half the size of a normal double room. Two other girls were also placed in that same room. When I went to look for the ACs, none of them would help me or even talk to me, and the RAs couldn’t do anything about it. It didn’t get resolved and the next morning, when and after I woke up, I was dealing with the panic that caused me.
A few days before, I had to pay my tuition, and I thought I had paid for it until nothing was taken out of my account. So that Tuesday morning, I told my mother about it through text, and she called me and was annoyed and harsh and was telling me that I had to call the bank and my school and get it sorted out. I was already overwhelmed with the fact that this was a problem and could possibly mean I don’t get to keep my single room or actually get to go back to college. At this point, I was freaking out and then having my mother freak me out with how much she was freaking out about the whole tuition situation was not helpful. I, of course, cried and had mini panic/anxiety attacks before and after each call I made, and for the rest of the day, I felt mentally drained and was seriously struggling with thoughts of dropping out of school, self-harm, and suicide. I was thinking about dropping out because of how much this was costing my family financially, and it was affecting me mentally.
Similarly, with ending my life, if I’m not here anymore, then I wouldn’t be a financial burden to my family, but I know I can’t do that to them. As for the self-harm, I felt I needed to do something about how irrationally I was thinking and how I couldn’t even make a simple phone call. The events that happened in the dreams aren’t really important, but I think it’s worth mentioning the thoughts I’ve been struggling with.
Speaking of financial issues and fears, earlier this year, my parents finally got dental insurance back, which meant I had to go to our family dentist for the first time in a few years. I have always been terrified of everyone at that office, though there really is no rational reason to fear them. Then at the end of May (28), I had to have oral surgery to have my wisdom teeth removed. That was even more terrifying and anxiety inducing, so I got the IV sedation instead of the usual laughing gas or whatever they use.
When I got back into the room, they hooked me up to the heart monitors and whatnot, then they left me alone in there for a little while. I was panicking I think, mostly just because of the medical environment, not so much the surgery part of it. The monitor kept beeping and going off I think because my heart was beating so fast. Later, when recovering from surgery, I slipped back into a deep depressive episode and wound up self-sabotaging my recovery without realizing it until a week and half later.
Later, in July, I noticed an abscess near the surgery site but didn’t do anything about it because I didn’t care about myself or my health. I didn’t care how bad it got and hoped it would actually kill me. I had a moment of rational clarity later at the beginning of August, and now I have a series of appointments for a root canal, fillings, a post, and a crown. This summer has been a dental nightmare, and I’m so done with it. I’ve had to repeatedly face my fear of medical environments and personnel this summer, and while I have survived the appointments, things have just gotten worse every time and added more things to fix, so I’m good with not facing that fear for a while.
All summer, I’ve been working towards getting a driver’s license. I’m no longer as fearful as I was of driving, and I’ve come to actually enjoy it. On the eighth, I went to my scheduled road skills/driving test, and after an hour and a half of waiting, they tell me I’m not allowed to take the test. They said that several of the medications I’m on are on their flagged list and that they need a release form from the prescribing physician to be sent to and approved by the DMV medical board before I’m allowed to take the test. I was seriously disappointed, and I, of course, beat myself up for it. This also gives my mother and grandmother one more thing to bring up as a reason to get off medication.
Speaking of which, so I’ve never told my grandmother about my anxiety, depression, hospitalizations, counseling and therapy sessions or what my medications were for or given her any details about my mental issues, so she’s basically uninformed about it all, but when she and I went to pick up my meds one time this summer, we had to wait for a consultation with the pharmacist because one of my meds is a controlled substance. She asked what it was for, so I told her it was for anxiety, kind of like a sedative. I don’t talk to her about my mental health because I’m just not comfortable with her knowing. I feel like she’s often judgmental and looks down on those who have mental issues that they can’t necessarily control, as if they’re less than ‘normal’ people.
Since she learned about anxiety, she has begun comparing me to this other girl with high anxiety from the internship program and keeps bringing up how some essential oils helped this girl get off some of her anxiety medications over the course of her internship. When she brought this up, I immediately felt defensive and closed myself off from her emotionally. Thoughts were spinning around in my head about how this girl is not me and that we do not have the same severity, nor do we struggle with the same things. I was also thinking that her internship was giving historical tours and teas to guests, so she was able to actively overcome some of her anxiety through that, plus she had a mentor.
My grandmother is now wanting me to try whatever this girl tried (one of the board members gave her oils or whatever, a mix of tea tree, lavender, mint, chamomile, and lemongrass oils). Both my mother, and, now, my grandmother are on me about how my meds are so unhealthy and bad and how it would be so much cheaper if I got off of them. My grandmother also thinks that it would be good to get a second opinion on my medication and mental health, though I’ve already had six professionals tell me that it’s good for me to be on medication so I can keep myself safe and functioning like a normal human as well as helping me make progress in therapy.
I know my grandmother and mother just want to help, and they think they’re being helpful, but really they’re just causing me more anxiety and contributing to my depression and how I think about myself. I don’t think they know or realize that I have tried everything I could before (and after) turning to counseling and medication to help with my anxiety. I’ve tried teas, oils, vitamins, exercise, diet changes, and other natural remedies but none of them made a difference. Yes, these all could help in conjunction to meds and therapy, but on their own, they didn’t help in making me feel any better, either physically or mentally. If I could, I would stop taking these meds. I, of all people, want to get off these, but I know I can’t right now because I if I do, I’d probably end up back in the hospital, or worse.