Amber Talks about Her Mental Health

When I talked about this post on Twitter, there was so much support that was offered to me and for that I am grateful. I am grateful for this community that embraces tough issues instead of hiding from them. A community that makes me feel comfortable enough to share a little more about me. 

So I think you guys know me already, but I'll introduce myself again. My name is Amber. I am 17 years old. I am a high school senior. I have 2 brothers, and 1 sister. A dog. I live in the suburbs. I run a book blog. I been accepted to two colleges that I was convinced would say no. I have friends. I have a family. I bought a car. I have an anxiety disorder, a mood disorder, and ADHD. I am also depressed.

While writing this post, I cut out the above part several times. Why? Because I am nervous to say this stuff, despite my comfort. It changes things. People says sharing doesn't, but sometimes it does. I've accepted that fact. Even if don't like it.  

I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder when I was eight years old, after many hospital visits because I would tell my parents I couldn't breathe. When you are a child you don't understand that the stomach aches, the tight skin, the chest pains are signs of anxiety. I didn't want to go to school or go to my friends' houses for play dates. I knew I was different, and my peers saw I was different. The bullying started after the anxiety disorder was diagnosed, and it only made it worse. Fast forward two years. I am now 10 years old and in 4th grade. I am still getting bullied. I fake stomach aches, throwing up, anything to stay home from school. I cry every morning when my parents drop me off at the bus stop and I eat lunch at a table of people who make constant fun of me. I was miserable. My parents didn't understand, the school wasn't doing anything to help, and my teacher didn't know what to do. 

Fifth grade was the year that changed everything. The bullying increased to the kids telling me I should just die, that I was worthless, I was a nobody. When you hear things so much you tend to believe them. I felt worthless, and stupid... The self destructive behaviors started that year and they didn't last long. I got help and hoped things would get better. Sixth grade, seventh grade things didn't change much. I began to read more, I kept to myself. I didn't have friends anymore. But the bullying stopped! 

High school started, and over that summer I was diagnosed with a mood disorder to add to my already growing list. But my freshman year was smooth, I managed my anxiety, my depression was controllable on medications. I made friends. I was happy.

Sophomore year things got rough. I started getting panic attacks. They were bad enough that I stopped going to school, or if I was in school I wouldn't go to class. My friendships were still newer, but I let my friends in and with their help (and medication for my anxiety) I was able to push through it all and things got better for the next year and a half. Junior year (Besides the school stress) was my best year of high school. It was a smooth with very little bumps. 

This Summer, I felt great. I was happy. I thought I was on top of the world and I stopped taking my medications. I felt good for a while and then school started. The anxiety came back, I became depressed and my moods were out of control. That is what caused my first hiatus on the blog for several weeks in September/October. At the end of October I realized I couldn't handle things on my own anymore and opened up to my mom, who took me back to the doctor. November was a good month. I was down a little bit, and sleepy from side effects but things were good. 

I don't handle stress well, and between depression and anxiety I am constantly stressed. Even if it's something small, I have anxiety about it. The past two weeks have not been easy on me, things got bad, and I reached a real low point. But I am working on it, I am working on me and getting myself better. 

Society romanticizes mental illnesses and makes it something to have. People say they are depressed when really it's just a moment of sadness. People say they have anxiety when they are worried about something. And I learned that people really don't understand what these things are. Anxiety isn't the pretty shy girl with no friends, it's avoiding leaving your house because you are afraid, or pushing people you care about away because you worry that they secretly hate you. Depression isn't always someone who inflicts harm upon herself. Sometimes it is that person in school, or at your job that looks put together and happy. Sometimes it is someone who can't get out of bed days on end. With dirty hair, and bags under their eyes. There is NOTHING romantic about that. 

So, that is my story. I wanted to share it to help people understand me a little better, but also help someone else. I know sometimes it seems like all hope is gone and things aren't going to get better. But please, believe me -- things will get better. Maybe not right away, but eventually. Thank you for being such an open community that I am able to share my story in.