People often say that it only takes one helping hand to guide you, but from my experience I would say it takes one helping hand to get started, and many to lead the way. During my time of living with anxiety and depression, I have had a countless number of people help me get through tough times, and some of them may not even know it. First off, my parents have been my biggest support system who have been here for me no matter what, and I am so lucky that they are accepting of whatever I am going through. They were the first to find out about my self harming and knew to get me help right away. I remember going into my first therapist's office for an intake review. I felt nervous and relieved at the same time because I had no idea what it would be like or how any of it worked, but also knew I needed a professional to talk to. I had just started cutting and knew it would only get worse if I didn’t do anything about it. The urges got worse. A lot worse. But my therapist taught me coping skills so I wasn’t always giving in.
I had developed an extremely strong relationship with my school counselor during this time in seventh grade. I told her everything. I went to see her when I had such strong urges, that if I didn’t, I would have given in. She was always there for me and helped me get past the extremeness of them. Yet my urges felt like they kept getting stronger each day which led me to begin cutting during class. Funny thing is, no one ever noticed which means I was good at hiding it. Just like I was good at hiding my depression when people would constantly tell me how “happy” I am all the time. I was given a warning that I could be contaminating other students, so my bizarre idea of limiting myself to only seeing my counselor twice a week max, I knew was not going to work. You may be wondering why I was trying to limit myself? It was a mixture of feeling like a burden, repetitive, annoying, and not wanting to miss class. Of course I never wanted to admit to feeling this way, but I felt so strongly that I was a bother no matter how many times I was told I wasn’t. But, I needed the help, so when I needed it I asked for it. I was seeing my counselor three, four, five times a week and sometimes even twice a day. As much as I hated leaving class, with fear of missing instructions or assignments I would have to later make up, the anxiety over school work came second to my mental health.
That took a very long time for me to accept. I was obsessive over wanting to get straight A’s, be a “perfect student”, and for all my teachers and peers to like me. Being anxious all the time only made my mental state worse since my grades were slipping, and I felt like I was only getting farther and farther away from my goal. For months I felt I couldn’t be helped and therefore there was no point in trying my best anymore, because my best was simply just not good enough. My depression got in the way of being able to do pretty much anything, and my anxiety gave me a negative connotation of myself, others, and everything in between.
I kept asking for help when I needed it. When I couldn’t get it from one person I went to the next even if I didn’t know them well, because the alternative would’ve been something I couldn’t take back. I have met some of the most incredible people while on this journey to recovery, and good things do come, you just have to work for them. I live for moments of happiness, pride, self love and those who I have created relationships with because they are what keeps me going. Asking for help isn’t about someone else. It’s about you. To end with a common quote: “You can’t stop the waves from coming, but you can learn to surf”.
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