King of all Undinia

fictitiousfake:

J.K Rowling said that her inspiration for Hagrid came from when she was 19  in a pub in the west country and this terrifying looking guy came in with these other biker guys and the only thing he talked to J.K about was how his cabbages were getting on

(via howling-lights)

My anxiety and depression is not about YOU, and it probably isn’t what you think it is

This includes, but is not limited to:

• Its not about you ‘fixing’ me or it. So no more offers of quinoa, exercise plans, crystals, vitamins, prayers, or the services of your homeopath or your really kind uncle Bob. I have a permanent serotonin imbalance. No amount of bananas will ‘fix’ this.
• My crippling social anxiety is not about me not wanting to see you, or hang out with you. If I can’t face the world, its because of me being terrified of people, ALL PEOPLE, not because I’m still mad about the fight we had three months ago.
• If I don’t answer my phone, its not because I don’t want to talk to you. Its because I am terrified of ringing phones and phone calls. I have PTSD, and phones play a big part in that. A phone may as well be a hissing snake. Which I am also scared of, but for different reasons.
• My anxiety about going out will not be fixed or overcome by you trying to make me go places against my will. No, just ‘doing it’ is not helpful. And it doesn’t change the panic attack I will likely have if the tons of people I see are friends. 
  
• The last time I cut myself was not about you either, it wasn’t because we fought or you told me you hated my dress. Its most likely because I felt overwhelmed by my failures and my problems. But it’s never because of you.
• It is not your job to remind me to take my meds or to push me to see my doctor or my psychiatrist. I am doing all that on my own time and my own initiative, when I feel comfortable doing so. 
• Telling me you don’t think that my meds/therapy/etc will work because I’m not ready/don’t want it to/not trying hard enough/too lazy/too anxious is not helpful, however much you feel this should be an exciting revelation to me. 
• Telling me I can choose how to feel is bullshit, and I also wish this to stop. Even if you don’t believe in allowing your emotions to just happen, do you believe in science? Serotonin imbalance, look it up.
• If I don’t reply to your messages on tumblr/facebook/my phone/hotmail/work email/words with friends, this is also not about you. When I am depressed, talking to people feels like a huge weight and my anxiety makes it feel like a pit of snakes. I still like you, a lot. But sometimes I need to wallow, and I find myself unable to make conversation in a meaningful way.
• No, I’m not at work right now, and I likely won’t be for a few months. Its not because I’m lazy or moonlighting or because I like being poor, its because I literally haven’t left the house in almost three weeks and I’m having severe panic attacks thinking about work. I had to sell my engagement ring to buy food, trust me, if I could make it different I would.
• http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com.au/ Just read it.
• Telling me that my fears are stupid also doesn’t help. I know intellectually that ringing phones, knocks on the door, people looking at me, walking out my door, and numerous other things are not going to be the end of my world or lead to devastation and pain. I know that. But that doesn’t change how it affects me when I’m down. 
• If you think depression and anxiety don’t exist, that’s great for you. But don’t bother telling me about it. Because I live with it. Its like me telling you that your car doesn’t exist.
• Just perk up? Never thought of that, I’ll get right on it.
• Telling me that letting stuff from years ago affect me is stupid and is a failure, or is letting them ‘win’, yeah, that’s not cool. I was physically abused as a child, neglected, and emotionally and verbally denigrated. I was threatened with death daily, bruised and welted, called every name under the sun, and told the world would be better if I was dead. I tried hanging myself when I was 10. From age 11 til 18 when I finally left home for good, I was having panic attacks daily which included uncontrollable crying and chest pains so bad people thought I was having a heart attack. I was given laxatives and put on diets and exercise plans (2 hours of aerobics and a 5km walk daily) as young as 8 because my parents considered me fat and ugly. When I was in college, I was sexually assaulted by two people I trusted. I received death threats and rape threats. Being changed and affected by that is not a failure, nor is it letting them ‘win’. There is no winning, not for them. They don’t matter. Winning is for me now, it is going outside without my resting heart rate sky rocketing, not resorting to self harming to deal with my stress, and being able to answer the goddamn phone.
• If you think that my depression and anxiety is unfair on my spouse, is pushing him away, and will lead him to leave me for someone not so selfish and unstable (or so fat), then that’s your opinion, and if you must tell someone, tell him. I’ll enjoy you telling me how that goes. 
• Sending me links to articles about how depressed people are unimaginative and unsuccessful is really lovely, thanks. Now stop. 
• You think that my depression is contagious and you don’t want to catch it and become uninspired and lazy? Ok then, I’ll wear a mask, or maybe never talk to you again. 
• No, I did not make my spouse depressed. He came that way. Take it up with his personal history, his parents, his bullies and his own serotonin imbalance.
• Oh, I’m depressed and anxious because I’m fat? I was anorexic for years, and I was exactly the same emotionally. No amount of diet plans will help me feel less like my world is over.
• No, me not eating much isn’t a testament to your cooking, or about me trying to prove to you that I’m not overweight because I over eat, its because I have an eating disorder. My anxiety spreads into my relationship with food. And no, its no different when I’m home, and no, your veggie bake is fine.
• And for fuck’s sake, it isn’t about being happy. Its about functioning. Living. Getting to a point where my life works enough to allow me to work on being happy.