Hello Darkness, my old friend

Well, I've got a mental illness myself. I have OCD, which has been very severe the last two years but is finally on the wane— even though I literally just did a compulsion. (OCD is a kind of anxiety, not to be confused with the perfectionism thing, which is actually called OCPD). It is terrible.

It peaked last spring, when I felt this very unpleasant physical FEAR all day long in my stomach and chest — like, think of the physiological sensation you get when you're really nervous, except intense, constant, wearying — and I literally did compulsions every few minutes, mostly mental ones. Kept my job, but constantly alternated working and worrying; it seemed nothing was more important than checking if my one obsessive fear was true, preventing it from coming true, or lamenting that it already was true. It's not nearly on that level anymore. A bad day for me now would've passed for a very good day in most of 2020.

It's interesting, I was the opposite of what you're saying. I wanted everyone to know about my anxiety. I had urges to tell people I hardly knew, and sometimes did. I've read stuff saying you should never tell someone with anxiety or depression "It's all in your head," and I don't get why because I really wanted to hear that it's all in my head, as opposed to my fear being something I really ought to be terrified by all the time. It also felt like I was hiding a heavy secret and it was too much to bear without telling anyone, almost like it was even dishonest to keep to myself, which might be a compulsive urge in itself.

And I definitely wanted advice. I spent so much time trying to analyze my condition, figure out what it really meant and what I could do to get rid of it, and kept chasing possible solutions. It seemed natural that I'd invite other people to do the same for me. Interesting how these things affect people differently.

Should I say what has helped me recover? Well, primarily exposure therapy, and I also took an herbal supplement, but both of those are more for anxiety. The more relevant thing is the practice of self-compassion. I could throw some links if anyone's interested, but the core of it is to always be kind to yourself: acknowledge your mental distress and then soothe yourself as though being kind to a friend. (Also, people who love themselves despite failure are more likely to improve at the thing later; being kind is not accepting defeat). It might not pertain to everyone, but it's really changed my thinking for the better.

Anyway, I want to say also that as horrible as my experience with mental illness has been, it's had its upsides. It got me to confront problems with my approach to life that have been building up since teen years; I think of it as the boss battle of my mental health, and after it the smaller problems will go away. It made me more compassionate towards others and less socially fearful because I'm now aware that everyone's got issues that can feel way bigger to them than to anyone else, so we're all just trying to cope with a difficult world. It's brought me closer to my dad and other people I've sought comfort from— after I wore out my mom. I also feel that suffering and getting to know how deep into darkness my very own mind can go have made me a more experienced person in general, deepening the reserve of feeling I can draw upon for writing.

Wish you well.

Oh, yes. That's it exactly.

Sadness for no reason at all. Brain obsessing on all the things in a negative light so that I couldn't appreciate the good things or let go of the bad things in a normal, healthy way. A slow slide down this spiral into weekly panic attacks. First thoughts of the day those that wracked me with guilt, anxiety, self-doubt and loathing. Great way to start the day.

For years I blamed it on hormone imbalance. But when I got on a hormone supplement which meant I continually had the same level of hormone, I knew it was coming from somewhere else.

The sadness had a clear origin about three years ago, but wouldn't lessen with time. The anxiety was something I'd dealt with my entire life. These snowballed until full-blown breakdown. Yay.  Nothing I did helped. Praying, drinking, gaming. No hiding, coping, releasing it to God helped it stop. If I didn't get help, I was just going to shrivel up and die.

My issue was definitely a chemical imbalance. My body had decided it needed to let all the dopamine drain out of my brain, I guess. So the dopamine blockers were the miracle worker. My doctor warned me we might have to try several, so I was anticipating a long haul and lots more meltdowns. Luckily the first med I tried was the right one. I feared it would make me a zombie, but after that first week of adjustment, my head cleared and my mood boosted, and I ain't never looking back. Lexapro all the way!

I am terribly sorry meds didn't work for you, man. Gosh, it's no good living like that. Gotta be gentle with yourself during this cycle though. No blame. Bodies and brains just do weird shit. Hang in there.