So I did this thing on Monday. I went to therapy for the very first time. Weird, right? I mean, I am this huge advocate for mental health. I spend a great portion of my days encouraging others to seek therapy and to consult with psychiatrists for medication management if needed. Hell, I worked for 5 years in a psychiatric hospital surrounded by individuals who suffered from various mental illnesses. But me, Bridgette Blair, a girl who has more problems than a math book, has NEVER been to therapy. Go figure…
Look, I was “perfectly happy”. I had a great job (stressful, but it paid the bills and then some), I could spend money on pretty much whatever I wanted without checking my bank account every second or praying that the waiter didn’t blurt out “DECLINED” after I threw down on a couple pounds of crab legs, my family was doing well, my friends were amazing, I met this super great guy, I traveled more than I ever had in my life, and a host of other ‘things” that for sure should have made me the happiest girl on earth. On the outside looking in, everything was going GREAT! But the thing about it; I was still very sad and very much so depressed.
Don’t get me wrong, I had my good days. And when they were good they were REALLY good, but baby when they were bad…Let’s just say, I wouldn’t wish my emotional state on my worst enemy during those times. Sleep was and still is a privilege. So of course after battling insomnia (I couldn’t go to sleep of stay asleep for nothing), it was soooo hard to get up in the morning. Even when I had a good night’s rest (more than likely from chugging a full bottle of Moscoto) I never wanted to get out of bed. I remember calling into work multiple times or going in late, because I seriously had no desire to do anything whatsoever, but lay there. I just felt sad. I felt anxious. All of the time. I felt worthless and helpless at times and I seriously had no idea why. Granted, I was still dealing with that horrible year we call 2012. Ya know, the year Mama died, failed relationship, lost of job and all that jazz. I didn’t realize that after all this time, I would still battle with depression anxiety. Mainly because all of the things that once made me sad, I had regained in a sense. Of course no one can replace my mother, but with my boyfriend came his mother and a wonderful family that I could have only dreamed of having. I had a job with a good salary. Great folks all around me. I should have been the happiest girl in the world. But again, I wasn’t.
I lost my job in January of this year and it did nothing, but exacerbate my depression and anxiety. All those feelings and worries that I was able to suppress most times, were all up in my face. Myself, my thoughts, and my feelings had absolutely nowhere to hide. I realized quickly that you can have all the riches in the world, everything you ever dreamed of having, and still battle depression. I do pretty well at masking it for the outside world and even to those closest to me. I can count on one hand during this time, how many times I have told my friends, family, boyfriend etc that I was NOT ok and sad or that I skipped going out with them solely because I physically could not make myself get out of the bed/couch I had been laying on for the past 4 days. When my sadness got worse and a couple of bad days turned into a couple of bad WEEKS, when I saw myself rapidly declining; I knew it was time for a huge spiritual, mental, and even physical change. I knew it was time for me to silence my negative thoughts and to “Choose Happiness”. True…Genuine…Happiness.
So my first step is attending therapy. There will be many more steps I have to take along the way. Some comfortable and some not so comfortable. This is only the beginning for me, but I am excited, scared out of my mind, and anxious (of course). But one things’ for sure, I am READY. I am ready to “Choose Happiness” on purpose and to hopefully help others to do the same. The ride will be bumpy ass hell, but it will be so worth it. Thank you for sharing and riding along on this journey with me.