Recently, I’ve experienced some significant life changes. Since childhood, I’ve received multiple diagnoses but never a single “blanket” diagnosis (which isn’t uncommon and there’s nothing inherently wrong with it). However, after a few months of emotional spirals, I decided to return to therapy and also discuss new medication options with my psychiatrist.
I’ve seen dozens of mental health professionals over the last 21 years, and fortunately, I currently have an excellent psychiatrist who suggested a medication that is considered much more intense—and even risky—than the majority of medications I’ve been on before. (While I don’t feel comfortable sharing which one it is at the moment, I hope to do so in the future.) I agreed and immediately began the process, as I needed tests done to start the medication. I also had to make dietary changes and will need to be more conscious of how I’m feeling physically.
My therapist is helping me determine whether there is, in fact, a single “blanket”diagnosis—which is highly likely. However, to be both ethical and accurate, a formal diagnosis can take weeks or even months, especially for what we are considering.
At first, all of this made me feel, well, weak. I know I have a lot of things “wrong” with me—mental illness has essentially always been a part of my life. But going through big changes like these can bring up new feelings, some difficult to describe, and others that make me feel vulnerable and small.
I’ve been trying to manage a range of emotions: anger, confusion, sadness, and anxiety. There are times when I feel inferior because of my mental health. I’ll compare myself to others and think, “Why can’t I be pretty?” or “Why can’t I be successful and independent?” While my insecurities about my appearance are something I try not to dwell on, I do remind myself of what I actually define as success.
When I’m feeling bad about myself, it’s easy to think I’m not accomplished because of what I’m dealing with. But I remember my core beliefs—that I’ve never been someone impressed by others’ jobs, wealth, or material possessions—and that I don’t need or want those things to impress myself. I value success based on people’s characteristics, such as emotional intelligence, humor, and empathy—all of which I believe I possess. It can be hard when you’re already feeling overwhelmed and see others who appear happier based on what they have. But remembering what you actually value can help bring you back to yourself.
I’ve been struggling with remembering that I am not my illnesses; I am still me, and I am so much more than the problems I face. I also balance that with the fact that I still need to work on managing my symptoms; they are not excuses, nor are they always justified for my behavior. However, acknowledging that I’ve been wrong while dealing with these issues—and trying to apologize to both the people I’ve hurt and myself—is important. I’ve been trying to remind myself to act as though everything were a physical illness, and treat myself the way I would if I were dealing with that. We can be so hard on ourselves when it comes to mental illness.
Both my body and mind have been so exhausted, but I’m trying to make positive changes in my life. I’m hopeful that this medication will take effect soon, and that I’ll gain some clarity with a new diagnosis and treatment. While I wait, I’m working on making peace in my personal life through apology, being more understanding, and planning for a better future.
Talya's life 