This past week I did something that to some it might seem little or it may not even matter to some but to me it was something huge.
Since I had my mental breakdown I stopped going out. I completely secluded myself from the world. It was as if the whole world was against me and I was too afraid to confront it. I stopped talking to friends, family and even took myself away from social media. I was too afraid as to what people's reactions would be towards my condition. People had already made it clear to me before my breakdown that they didn't accept my disability or understood it. Most would just ignore me or talk about me when I wasn't there. Needless to say because of their actions I isolated myself. I wanted nothing to do with them.
It wasn't until later on that I started to let a few friends in. Two friends to be exact. They would meet me in places that I felt most comfortable in. They would come visit me at my house when I was still very mentally fragile. I cant imagine what it must've been for them to see me like that. Hallucinating because of the drugs they had me on, afraid of my own shadow, unable to speak. All I could do was make random noises and point at things. But thanks to them and of course my mother and homeschool teachers I slowly started coming out of my shell.
My homeschool teachers started by having classes in different places such as the library, a park, the mall and even restaurants. They wanted me to get used to being around people again. At first it was hard and I had many panic attacks but as time went by I started getting used to it. My friends would push me to go out more too. They took me to see movies and have lunch. They always understood if I felt too anxious to go out or if my speech impediment came up and I was unable to speak. They showed me that not everyone was the same. They showed me people could be understanding and not just judgemental. I felt safer with them than when I was around most family members.
It's truly sad if you think about it. Family is supposed to be loving and accepting but that wasn't the case. Even now some of my family refuses to accept that I suffer from mental health. But I try not to let it bother me because there are so many people in my life who believe in me and cheer me on.
Although I have surpassed so much with the help of friends, my mother and teachers there was one place that I truly feared. That place that caused me so much fear was church. Church is nice and all and I would like to make it clear to everyone that this is in no way me dissing church. This is just simply my personal experience.
Before my mental break down almost everyone knew I had anxiety. Thats not what they called it though. They told my parents my anxiety was just a way for me to get attention. I was constantly called a drama queen and they made me feel horrible for having this condition. They would tell me that other people had real illnesses and I was sining by acting as if there was something wrong with me. They even suggested to my parents to convince the priest to perform an exorcism on me. They claimed the only reason why I would be acting this way was because I had something evil inside of me. Those members of the church made me feel terrible and made me question wether what I had was real or if what they said was true. They were judgmental and said so many hurtful things. They made a place that I loved feel so unsafe.
But not everyone at church was like that some people were really nice. I just can't believe people would talk to a child that way. It was truly heartbreaking. Years went by until I finally stepped into that church again.
That day was this past week. I was terrified and very nervous but I really wanted to celebrate Palm Sunday. My brother and I walked in and immediately I saw familiar faces. Some of which I had good memories with and others that hurt me. I became to feel very uneasy and afraid but my brother held my hand the whole time. I felt bad for him because whenever a loud noise came up or someone said hello I would pinch him. The whole mass consisted of me pinching him and trying not to have a panic attack. Few people came to talk to me and I felt alright but then some people who have hurt me so much also spoke to me and acted as if we didn't have history.They acted as if we were the best of friends. I know its wrong wrong to feel so much hatred but I couldn't help it. We waited until mass was over and until everyone had left so I wouldn't have to speak to anyone else. I felt a sense of relief after church. I felt as if I had accomplished something huge. I felt proud of myself
Although seeing those people brought back horrible memories I was happy to see the people who actually helped and to be a part of something again. I know I will still see those people when I go again but I feel stronger now. I am no longer the little girl who is afraid to speak up for herself or the girl who believes everything they tell her. I am an adult now and I wont let them tear me down again.
I have so many more things that I have to surpass but for now this accomplishment is enough.