How I recognized I needed help

ANONYMOUS

It’s December 2020, and it has been way too long to be in this endless insufferable cycle of agitation toward everyone and everything. Rage flows through my veins and seems to fill every pore of my skin. Then I feel nothing. No empathy or energy or anger. I don’t feel human.

It’s January, and I’m okay again. I’m more than okay, I feel ecstatic. I feel so great it’s euphoric for no reason, and I wake up thinking it’ll go away but it doesn’t. I don’t sleep, but it’s alright. I wake up more energized than I was the day before.

It’s February, and it’s starting to not feel so nice. This feeling is oddly uncomfortable. My brain is flooded with thoughts. My thoughts are going so fast it’s like there aren’t any thoughts at all. I go for a walk to clear my head when I hear my name from a foreign voice behind me. There’s no one there. I’m too young for this.

It’s March now, and I’ve noticed the pattern. With my moods being so temperamental, I haven’t slept more than three hours a night. I turn over in the middle of the night and suddenly hear whispering. I can’t make out what they are saying, but I feel as if they are conspiring against me. I didn’t sleep after that. While getting work done in the library, I feel a big bug on my face. I freak out and realize there’s nothing there. I feel like I am slowly losing my mind and I’m frightened. I feel alone and helpless. I don’t know what to do.

It’s April and I finally reach out for help from my therapist. A plan was put forth for me with a psychiatrist.

It’s August and I’m happy, healthy, and glad I told someone. As the months pass, I slowly get better and realize the darkness doesn’t last forever.

Editor’s Note: The author feels it is an important perspective to share but wishes to protect their privacy in reporting so they remain anonymous.