Recent events involving my family, again, voluntelling me to intervene with a cousin who is struggling with depression and other unresolved issues. For the first time, it made me really angry and I wasn't sure why at first. I have been digging into that for a while now [1]
I started thinking about it today in light of a paper I'm writing for class. I unearthed some memories that had long since been forgotten or suppressed (I never know these days). But I realized I have a lot of resentment over how my mental health was treated vs. my siblings. [2]
Technically, being the "oldest" in my family, I was the experiment kid and none of my three parents were really equipped to deal with my disposition. I can remember being depressed, not sleeping, and sitting in front of a computer for hours on end. [3]
My attitude had gotten really bad and I was extremely snappy but I didn't have the ability to process what was going on at the age of 15. My mom and step-dad cornered me in the office and I was only shown concern because I started acting like my abusive bio-dad. [4]
I was put on anti-depressants by a GP who clearly knew very little about what to do with a depressed teenager. I was put on Wellbutrin XL (still a brand name back then) and sent on my way. I stopped taking it because nothing changed. I was still miserable; I was still me. [5]
Sometime near that, I started experiencing anxiety for the first time and it was constant. When I approached my mom about it she essentially told me to "pray it away". I pushed it to the back of my brain until it came exploding out as panic attacks and hypochondria [6]
My life was a circus after that. I was finally taken to a doctor who referred me to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with Bipolar II. It would be easier for me to tell you which drugs they didn't try to treat me with after it was all said and done, but they made me feel numb. [7]
Years would pass. My parents would adopt a child and my brother would go through a broken engagement. Both of which would see doctors for their respective mental health issues stemming from circumstances or biology without question. [8]
While I was working at a church, I would get tapped by my pastor [former friend/mentor] to help people who were dealing with depression or anxiety of some kind. I felt I was helpful in those circumstances but, looking back, I find I resent it now. [9]
In church, I was only ever relied upon for behind-the-scenes things, even when I was an intern there. Even the sermons I was called on to preach related to my mental health in some shape or form in that church, though my skills far exceeded that capacity. [10]
My little sister, who was adopted, was taken to a psychologist many years ago and was diagnosed as Autistic. Because the psychologist asked for family history, my mom got to talk about me. It was enough that the psychologist asked I come in to be evaluated [11]
From Bipolar II to my eventual diagnosis with Autism Spectrum Disorder took almost ten years and it only happened by virtue of someone else. Not my own struggles in dealing with the world in my own way, overmedicated, re-medicated, and under-medicated [12]
That history has been swimming around in my head for the last couple of hours and it's killing my mood. But I realized what it was that really bothers me the most about the whole issue with being told, "You should talk to your cousin about being depressed." [13]
I feel necessary to point out, also, that I have been targeted more than once about that same cousin as the reason, at least in part, for her problems. Since it is not my place, I won't air her problems here but I can honestly say it had nothing to do with me. [14]
My problem, that aside, is that people have always felt comfortable using my mental health to benefit others but when I brought them up as problems, I have always been invalidated. My ex-best friend wrote me off because of a litany of things I don't remember happening. [15]
My depression was only addressed when it became a reminder of my mother's abusive ex-husband. My anxiety was ignored because God would surely take it away if I asked enough times and essentially ignored how much it affected my ability to function. [16]
The problem now is that the people I feel the most resentful towards are no longer the people they were during those admittedly traumatic times. I don't know if I even can feel resentment to these people in the present, as much as it churns in my guts in anger at the moment [17]
In the end, I am tired. I am exhausted all the time because I have chosen a fairly heavy amount of stress all the time from grad school, work, band, and feeling bad that I can't go see my friends. On top of that, I feel ashamed that I have to stick to my schedule. [18]
My schedule is one of my only means of keeping order in my brain, especially when my executive dysfunction is at its worst. I guess, in the end, I'm tired of having to sacrifice my boundaries for the sake of someone else who has otherwise couldn't give a damn. [19]
Perhaps that is hyperbole, but that's how it feels most of the time. I was in a relationship for 18 months where that was literally ALL I did. No one cared. They just wanted to keep taking and, as they are now, would get mad when I said, "No." [20]
My question is whether or not I can even be resentful of the things I've been through. I validate that my feelings are real but I don't know if they are rational or if they are simply ego-driven. [21] #ActuallyAutistc #ActuallyADHD #PTSD #AITA
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