Let’s start off this little “relaunch” with something big.
I’ve been watching a lot of Meghan Rienks’ videos in Youtube. You might know her as the bubbly hyper beauty guru “MeghanRosette” or the hilarious host on CleverTV, but I’ve been watching her for awhile and she’s been through a lot.
I really admire her for being really open about what she’s going through and it has just been really inspiring. I just think it’s great how she’s still managed to accomplish what she has in spite of her depression, and she’s using all of it to reach out to people who might be feeling the same way.
So here’s my own story. I’m not looking to inspire or whatever, because, to be honest, I’m barely doing anything with my life really. I’m just sharing my own story in the off chance that someone who has the same issues as I do would see this and realize that they’re not alone, and they shouldn’t disregard what they’re feeling.
So growing up, I never really had any issues. Ironically, for someone who grew up away from their parents, was the lower grade tagalong version of my cousin, and was always the least “conventionally attractive” in the group, I never really had any negative thoughts about myself. I was fucking great. I was funny, I had friends, and I was loved. Classmates would joke about how I was the biggest in class, but I never really got bullied for it, and it didn’t really affect my confidence and I never had any self-esteem issues. Everything was pretty much great for most of my life, even up until I was in polytechnic.
Then, I realized I had Cyclothymia. Basically, it’s a mild form of Bipolar Disorder where one goes through cycles of hypomania and depression. I was never clinically diagnosed, but I’m pretty self-aware and I did a lot of research, and it pretty much fits the bill.
It was a slow build-up to realizing that Cyclothymia was a thing. I mean, I never had any really issues to be upset over, and I just thought I got hyperactive sometimes. I didn’t think it was a condition. I just thought that everyone had amazing days and just horribly shitty days, and it was just the universe balancing itself out. It never got serious, so I figured I had nothing to worry about it.
Then I started my internship. And then I had anxiety. I actually didn’t realize that I was having actual proper anxiety until much later. I just thought I was having a hard time at my job and that it was normal, but it wasn’t. I thought I’d be great at my job and that I’d go far, but I was horrible and I didn’t know shit. My manager was impatient and never taught me how she wanted things done, and I would always get scolded for it. I tried learning the ropes as much as possible, but somehow I’d always end up doing something wrong.
I had situational depression. I hated that job. Every day, I’d count down how many days I had left in that internship. I dread leaving my bed to go to work, and I counted down the hours until I can leave the office. I couldn’t sleep, I overate, I was constantly exhausted, I felt worthless and guilty that everything I did was wrong. It was horrible. I didn’t even want to go out on weekends, because I felt like I just had to stay at home and pass out from my mentally exhausting week before it starts all over. I felt helpless, but thank God, it ended, and I was fine.
The Cyclothymia carried on, but I could sleep, and I was back to my old happy self, and I loved my new job. There were ups and downs, and maybe a couple more downs here and there, but I was fine and I was okay, and I knew how to handle it.
Then there was the end of last year. I was hit with rejection after rejection and feeling left behind and unwanted. I figured it’s just the lows of Cyclothymia, I’m gonna be okay, but that feeling of elation that’s supposed to be the ups of the cycle never really stayed as long as the feeling of being complete shit did.
There were the past few months. I was in and out of hospitals and clinics, I still have track marks on my arms for constantly being punctured by needles for blood samples, pain killers, and God knows what else. I found out I had an invisible chronic disease, and that my amazing tolerance level for alcohol wasn’t such a good thing after all. I also found out I had scoliosis and chronic gastritis, conditions that you can’t really be cured of. It either hurts like a fucking bitch on steroids or it doesn’t.
There are good days. Days when I’m out with family and friends, having a good time, just laughing and being what I believe to be is my true self. There are bad days. Days when I’m in fetal position in my bed, where I could barely breathe in between sobs, unable to figure out which hurts more, the physical pain of feeling like your insides are being electrocuted from every point in your torso or the emotional pain of believing that you’re gonna die alone and no one ever thinks of you unless they have something to gain.
I pride myself on being incredibly self-aware, and I know it’s ridiculous to feel so negatively about myself, but there’s just that tiny evil voice in my head. It’s telling me I’m not good enough for people, I’m wasting my money and my parent’s money on hospital bills, and that I’m wasting my time writing this post because who the fuck cares about what I have to say.
I try to make my own voice louder. I’m amazing, I’m super fun to be around, I’m enthusiastic as fuck, I take pride in my work, and I’ve got a great butt. Great butt is currently in progress, but like I said, I take pride in my work. People love me. That might be self-indulgent to say, but who the fuck doesn’t love me, I’m fucking great.
But I also acknowledge my highs and I acknowledge my lows. I’m tired of trying to find reasons why it’s acceptable to feel upset, even when there’s completely nothing to feel upset about. I try not to scrounge for ways to cheer myself up when it’s one of those bad phases, because I already know that the horrible phase has to end some time. And I’ll be back to being okay.
Some days are better than others. Some days are worse. But they’re just days. And I’ve got more where they came from. – Meghan Rienks