Mental health is an infinitely complex thing. With a variety of conditions that can affect someone and no-one’s experience being the same, it’s no wonder that so much about it remains a complete mystery to most of the population. What I talk about on this site and during any podcast episodes that I record, is a droplet in the ocean of what there is to know and understand within the scope of mental health conditions and their impact on an individual. Something that I don’t think people realise when mental health conditions are discussed, is how they interact with one another. These conditions often come in groups, much like the unwanted +1 you didn’t realise your friend had dragged along to your party.
Between anxiety, depression and PTS, a bad mental health day for me can vary dramatically depending on which condition has decided to kick down the door and make my life a misery. The PTS can raise my anxiety levels, which leads to me cancelling plans, which results in a healthy dose of self-loathing for letting others down. It’s a negative feedback loop and it sucks, to be completely honest. However, I can’t avoid every potential trigger that could begin the loop again, otherwise I’d never be able to live my life. There are a variety of factors that can lead you to a bad day and often it’s simply a minor inconvenience that sets it all in motion once again.
I’m aware that the root of my problems is mostly to do with my own self-esteem and self-image, something that goes back to my childhood. However, it was only around the time I started this site that I recognised the core of my issues, and I was surprised to recognise that it wasn’t my social anxiety. When I started university, my anxiety attacks were at a point where I sought out medical assistance to help quell them, since I could barely leave the flat for an event without the need to vomit profusely afterwards (and not for the usual alcohol related reasons you’d expect of a university student!). Yet once I was on anti-anxiety medication, I stopped having panic attacks and instead fell into a deep depression, functioning only out of necessity. I’d treated a symptom, not the cause.
The last three weeks have been odd for me. Those that follow my YouTube would have read the description of my most recent video and would know that I’ve been in a depressive slump recently, but that slump has transitioned into a more bizarre phenomenon. I’ve spoken about dissociation on the site before, the out of body experiences and sensations that my actions aren’t entirely my own to control, but this feels… more than that. I feel disconnected from myself almost entirely, like I’ve become an actor in a play, going through the motions and acting out what the audience expects to see. I do my work, both from home and onsite, I play D&D with the gang and enjoy myself, I play and cuddle with the cats and I study the required material for my master’s degree. To an outside observer, I seem perfectly fine. Heck, to those close to me, it still looks normal. However, something about it feels off to those who would look more closely.
The best metaphor for it that I can think of would be if you went to an art gallery to see a famous painting, but someone had switched the original for a near perfect replica without letting anyone know. Sure, those keener on the artist’s work may notice something amiss or just have an inkling of confusion, but unless it was pointed out, chances are nobody would notice for a long time. I feel like that replica. Like someone had walked off with the original Caitlin and left me in place, forcing me to smile and converse with Caitlin’s family and friends, referencing conversations that I wasn’t a part of and events that are mere facts to me rather than the emotional milestones they supposedly were for others.
Theatre has always been a big part of my life, especially the backstage roles that go into a production. Show week is a fascinatingly complex thing, with dozens of moving parts mixing to make a show run smoothly. Knowing the cues, lighting changes, sound effects and props needed for every scene becomes almost instinctual as the week goes on. This dissociation feels like that. It feels like we’re on the third show of the week, having moved beyond opening night jitters and the first few live mistakes that you must compensate for. Everyone knows what they are supposed to be doing and it becomes another piece of choreography that every member of the company can perform flawlessly. Although perfect in the moment, in that specific scenario, to carry it over to the rest of the world and your daily life, it becomes paralysing in a way that you wouldn’t comprehend from the outside.
You know how they say some animals can sense things coming before we can? Like how cows sit down before the rain or how dogs can be trained to sense when a seizure is approaching, or someone’s blood sugar is dangerously low. I don’t know how common it is but some folks, me included, can sense when a panic attack is approaching or when a depressive episode will strike. Part of my experience with predicting these changes comes from my sensitivity to the world around me. I am hyperaware of changes around me, be that noise, visuals, or scents. On my more audio sensitive days, I can make out a dozen different conversations going on around me. I guess it means nobody can sneak up on me but it’s a bloody nightmare for my anxiety levels. I can predict when the days where it takes hours to claw myself out of bed are and know what level of physical contact I can tolerate during a particularly bad timeframe.
Part of me wants to remain in this state for the foreseeable future, something that the rest of me is too terrified to even consider. In this state I am productive, I am functional, I’m still socialising and interacting with those around me. It’s like looking in a slightly distorted mirror of what I am like on my good days, an almost perfect reflection that sets the alarm bells ringing in the back of your mind. I know that when this performance ends, I will have several very dark days. That fact is as certain to me as the rotation of the earth and the endless motion of the tides. It’s a foreboding feeling, to be staring darkness in the face as it barrels towards you, with only a wall of glass between you and the danger. Yet, I have to take down that wall or I will never be who I am, who I could be, who I want to be.
Life is hard. It requires surviving the bad days and thriving during the good ones. It’s terrifyingly isolating and a battle that you will never truly win – you merely survive from skirmish to skirmish until you are ready to meet defeat with open arms. It’s hard, back breaking work that you get no real reward for, no grand prize other than more time on the earth. Every second counts and sometimes you have to spend a month clawing your way out of the pit of despair to get an hour of joy. Yet, if you can forgive yourself when you fail, can pick yourself up when you fall down, and are willing to accept the smallest victories as a triumph over that lurking darkness, then it will all be worth it.
Still here,
CaitlinRC.
