“You're stupid.”
”You're ugly.”
”You'll amount to nothing.”
”How do you have friends?”
These are just a few thoughts that float around my mind as the days go by. Usually nothing has to trigger them, they would pretty much come at the drop of a hat and a change in the wind. These thoughts don't even take into account the suicidal ones. Now those were the worst. They would come not as often,they usually came when I felt something really bad happened and I just wanted to end it all. I thought everyone would be better off without me in the world. I thought no would me need me and I was simply a waste of space. No matter how many of these thoughts that came to the forefront of my mind I could never do anything to bring physical harm to myself. I knew deep down I couldn't take my own life, out of primal fear. Now the thoughts were one thing, opposed to the physical impact which was just the icing on the cake. I would not only get these crippling thoughts, I would also get these terrible pains. Whenever I had a panic attack I would start hyperventilating, my vision would be blurred, and it was like my hearing was distorted. When I first felt these things I was honestly so terrified .I thought something was seriously wrong with me, that I needed to go see the school nurse, or maybe even be taken to the hospital. But then I found out that these were the telling signs of my mental illnesses. But I will take it back to how it all happened.
It was a regular day in June of 2013. The school year was coming to an end. My graduation was in just a few days and I was as excited and happy as I could be. I pretty much had no care in the world and thought everything was going to be fine. Sadly these were the last moments of me not having to wallow in self pity, take pills daily, and go to therapy at least once a week. I remember the exact moment everything felt like it was crashing down. I was called into my eighth grade advisor’s room, Ms. Alvarez, when I was told I had to go to her room I initially was scared but ultimately thought nothing of it. As I approached the room I saw my art teacher and started to get nervous. I was doing bad in her class and completely ignored her assignments and instructions. I asked what was going on and I heard those 14 words come from her mouth,everything went down.”Bryana,you can’t go to the beach trip because you are failing my class.”To most people this wouldnt really be much of a big deal,but for me school was practically everything.School was so important to me and my family.I simply said:”Okay I understand,and made my way to recess.”Once I left the room I wanted to break down and cry.I felt like a failure,my breathing was irregular and my vision was blurred.”When my friend asked me:”Bryana,what’s wrong.”That was the one time I really thought:I don’t know,
After dealing with everything I seemed to brush it off as a defense mechanism and went on with the rest of my day.I was simply mad at the art teacher and put all the blame on her.I was upset that I couldn't go to my graduation trip but quickly got over it because I was graduating the next day.Everything was going well until it was the end of my last day of school and I returned home.I thought that everything was going to be a good day,until I got home and talked to my mom who was ludicrous.She told me that I had to go to summer school because I failed art and that was when she said that she was so mad at me.When I heard the news the thoughts came again.”You’re dumb.””Seriously,failing art?””Look how upset you made mom.””Is this all you're good for disappointment?”I accepted that I had to go to summer school and went on with my life.It only took me one more time to realize that I really had a mental problem.So I told my mom and did some research of my own.I searched up the symptoms of what I have been feeling lately and then it was finally uncovered.I had anxiety and depression.
I don’t know how long I looked at the webpage and how long I pondered over the fact.Me at only 13 years old having anxiety and depression.I have heard of the two before but never put much thought into it because I thought it would never pertain to me.Boy was I wrong.I always thought something was wrong with me,not in a joking matter but in a serious one.Now I defenitlety thought I had a serious problem,I thought I would be stuck like this forever and nothing would ever change.Like I was stuck in a ditch watching life go by as all the issues I had was putting dirt on top of me and watching my life go by.
At times I was usually in denial.I thought that it was absurd for me to have such a thing.It was also terrible for me because I was starting high school in a few months and I couldnt have this luggage with me.”No one wants to be friends wth you.””Youre a weirdo.””Youre damaged.”So when these feelings overcame me I tried to push it away and ignore it.It was like I had a evil person whispering all these terrible things in my head and I was simply ignoring them with a smile on my face.This was my best coping mechanism,but also my worst.As I went on ignoring the evil person on my shoulder and in my mind it just got worse.I had more problems arise and the illnesses and my denial just amplified them.Once again I seemed to be stuck in that pit.
Then the worse struck me and I had another panic attack,but it was worse.I had my first small one in middle school and I thought that it was the worse it would get,but once again I tricked myself and was put in the wrong.To this day I still don’t remember exactly what triggered it but I knew it was a terrible feeling at the time.Pretty much the same things happened,but it was worse.I was hyperventalliting to the point were I couldnt breathe,I was so dizzy and felt faint,I was nauesous and my vision was blurred one again.To me this was the last straw and I had to tell my mom,anyone for that matter about what was really going on with me.When I finally told my mom I thought she was going to think that I was simply overreacting,but she told me everything was going to be fine and she would help me get help.My mom was the one I trusted the most to tell about this.She is like my best friend and supprts me no atter what.Then my mother suggested therapy.
I have always heard about people that had to go to therapy for a vast amount of things.I thought it was crazy and it wouldn't work.I outright opposed when my mom first suggested,but then she took me to the place about a week ago.It was very different from what I thought,It was one on one and it helped me to get everything out.It was hard for me to open up,but I did.It made me look at myself in a new perspective.A better one.Through this journey I feel like I have learned some very important things.One being that you are your worst enemy.Two is you cant let someone make you feel bad about yourself unless you let them.And finally three,which I believe is the most important:Having a mental illness or multiple does not make disabled.It also does not take away from who you truly are.
”You're ugly.”
”You'll amount to nothing.”
”How do you have friends?”
These are just a few thoughts that float around my mind as the days go by. Usually nothing has to trigger them, they would pretty much come at the drop of a hat and a change in the wind. These thoughts don't even take into account the suicidal ones. Now those were the worst. They would come not as often,they usually came when I felt something really bad happened and I just wanted to end it all. I thought everyone would be better off without me in the world. I thought no would me need me and I was simply a waste of space. No matter how many of these thoughts that came to the forefront of my mind I could never do anything to bring physical harm to myself. I knew deep down I couldn't take my own life, out of primal fear. Now the thoughts were one thing, opposed to the physical impact which was just the icing on the cake. I would not only get these crippling thoughts, I would also get these terrible pains. Whenever I had a panic attack I would start hyperventilating, my vision would be blurred, and it was like my hearing was distorted. When I first felt these things I was honestly so terrified .I thought something was seriously wrong with me, that I needed to go see the school nurse, or maybe even be taken to the hospital. But then I found out that these were the telling signs of my mental illnesses. But I will take it back to how it all happened.
It was a regular day in June of 2013. The school year was coming to an end. My graduation was in just a few days and I was as excited and happy as I could be. I pretty much had no care in the world and thought everything was going to be fine. Sadly these were the last moments of me not having to wallow in self pity, take pills daily, and go to therapy at least once a week. I remember the exact moment everything felt like it was crashing down. I was called into my eighth grade advisor’s room, Ms. Alvarez, when I was told I had to go to her room I initially was scared but ultimately thought nothing of it. As I approached the room I saw my art teacher and started to get nervous. I was doing bad in her class and completely ignored her assignments and instructions. I asked what was going on and I heard those 14 words come from her mouth,everything went down.”Bryana,you can’t go to the beach trip because you are failing my class.”To most people this wouldnt really be much of a big deal,but for me school was practically everything.School was so important to me and my family.I simply said:”Okay I understand,and made my way to recess.”Once I left the room I wanted to break down and cry.I felt like a failure,my breathing was irregular and my vision was blurred.”When my friend asked me:”Bryana,what’s wrong.”That was the one time I really thought:I don’t know,
After dealing with everything I seemed to brush it off as a defense mechanism and went on with the rest of my day.I was simply mad at the art teacher and put all the blame on her.I was upset that I couldn't go to my graduation trip but quickly got over it because I was graduating the next day.Everything was going well until it was the end of my last day of school and I returned home.I thought that everything was going to be a good day,until I got home and talked to my mom who was ludicrous.She told me that I had to go to summer school because I failed art and that was when she said that she was so mad at me.When I heard the news the thoughts came again.”You’re dumb.””Seriously,failing art?””Look how upset you made mom.””Is this all you're good for disappointment?”I accepted that I had to go to summer school and went on with my life.It only took me one more time to realize that I really had a mental problem.So I told my mom and did some research of my own.I searched up the symptoms of what I have been feeling lately and then it was finally uncovered.I had anxiety and depression.
I don’t know how long I looked at the webpage and how long I pondered over the fact.Me at only 13 years old having anxiety and depression.I have heard of the two before but never put much thought into it because I thought it would never pertain to me.Boy was I wrong.I always thought something was wrong with me,not in a joking matter but in a serious one.Now I defenitlety thought I had a serious problem,I thought I would be stuck like this forever and nothing would ever change.Like I was stuck in a ditch watching life go by as all the issues I had was putting dirt on top of me and watching my life go by.
At times I was usually in denial.I thought that it was absurd for me to have such a thing.It was also terrible for me because I was starting high school in a few months and I couldnt have this luggage with me.”No one wants to be friends wth you.””Youre a weirdo.””Youre damaged.”So when these feelings overcame me I tried to push it away and ignore it.It was like I had a evil person whispering all these terrible things in my head and I was simply ignoring them with a smile on my face.This was my best coping mechanism,but also my worst.As I went on ignoring the evil person on my shoulder and in my mind it just got worse.I had more problems arise and the illnesses and my denial just amplified them.Once again I seemed to be stuck in that pit.
Then the worse struck me and I had another panic attack,but it was worse.I had my first small one in middle school and I thought that it was the worse it would get,but once again I tricked myself and was put in the wrong.To this day I still don’t remember exactly what triggered it but I knew it was a terrible feeling at the time.Pretty much the same things happened,but it was worse.I was hyperventalliting to the point were I couldnt breathe,I was so dizzy and felt faint,I was nauesous and my vision was blurred one again.To me this was the last straw and I had to tell my mom,anyone for that matter about what was really going on with me.When I finally told my mom I thought she was going to think that I was simply overreacting,but she told me everything was going to be fine and she would help me get help.My mom was the one I trusted the most to tell about this.She is like my best friend and supprts me no atter what.Then my mother suggested therapy.
I have always heard about people that had to go to therapy for a vast amount of things.I thought it was crazy and it wouldn't work.I outright opposed when my mom first suggested,but then she took me to the place about a week ago.It was very different from what I thought,It was one on one and it helped me to get everything out.It was hard for me to open up,but I did.It made me look at myself in a new perspective.A better one.Through this journey I feel like I have learned some very important things.One being that you are your worst enemy.Two is you cant let someone make you feel bad about yourself unless you let them.And finally three,which I believe is the most important:Having a mental illness or multiple does not make disabled.It also does not take away from who you truly are.