My Mental Prison

For half my life, I lived in a mental prison. It was self-created, even if it was a chemical imbalance, and I was the warden. I refused to let myself out. I was determined that this was my punishment for not being good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, and not being a "good" person.  I was very angry at first, which I later came to realize is the twin of depression. I hurt people around me, was sarcastic, and said things that I regret to this day. When the ugly twin of depression came out, especially in my early 20s, I saw this prison as a just punishment. I was bad. I was not a good person. I didn't see myself as a good daughter, sister, or friend. I tried to apologize to all those that I hurt, thinking that my "sentence" would lift. It didn't.

I replayed almost nightly everything I ever did wrong. At the time, the job that I had just added to that. I was always in the wrong, always having to justify myself, or look over my shoulder.

I also felt like I was never good enough for my extended family. My parents would brag with excitement how by the age of 23 I not only had my Bachelor's degree, but a Master's degree and a job in my field. My maternal grandparents would tell me and them," that's nice but your cousin is doing so much better." With each word, a new scar and a longer prison sentenced formed. I longed for them to see value in me.  I longed for them to love me. I believe that somewhere in their own way, they did love me; at least that is what I hope.

I worked myself to the bone for my job, so that others could see the value of me. I became whatever anyone needed, overthinking each situation so I could anticipated what might go wrong. If I could fix it before it went wrong or had a plan, they would like me, right? If I spent hours finding and putting together research, they would know I was a good teacher, right? If I kept learning and doing better at my job, my extended family would see that I wasn't the "dumb, ugly girl" that they had told me I was so many years ago.

I was so afraid to lose anyone or for them not to like me that I gave away my heart to every person that showed an interest in being my friend.

At the end of the day, between work, friends, and family, I had nothing left for me. I was an empty vessel.   If things didn't go perfect at work or a friend would ignore a message, I would immediately re-evaluate everything I've ever done or said. I would perform an investigation like that of Criminal Minds, CSI, and HOUSE on my life, on me. It had to be something wrong with me.

I only added to my sentence. I was in solitary confinement. I would get out every once and a while. Those closest to me, could see that I was hurt and they longed to help me.

I tried every method out there for years trying to find my "fix".  Some things worked temporarily like counseling or medication; other things didn't work at all. I studied depression and anxiety.  I could fix this. I had to be strong enough to beat this thing. But with nothing left, this empty vessel easily broken into many pieces.

I started reading "Battlefield of the Mind" by Joyce Meyer. I had been having a very difficult time, and feeling attacked in all aspects of my life. I realized that the days that I gave myself first to God, my best offerings of myself--not the end of the day, beaten down self, I did much better. I could not only cope but succeed.  I didn't come home an empty shell. I didn't cry myself to sleep. I didn't have anxiety attacks multiple times a day. Things started to change around me. I started to feel content and happy, feelings I hadn't had for longer than a week at time for years. I started to look for my value in Him, not in others. Humans are fickle creatures, tastes changing with the wind. I didn't need my friends, bosses, co-workers, or family members to validate me or value me at all.  I only needed God to do that. I'm not completely unbroken but with each prayer, each time I lean on Him, He is picking up my broken peaces and making me whole again. He is filling this vessel with His Love and His light.

From there, I found I was stressed way less. I still have some set backs, like the toddler learning to walk. I don't feel imprisoned in my head anymore, I don't even feel like this is a short time out on parole. I'm not waiting of the bottom to fall out, and for my world be turned upside down.  I feel free. Soon I'll be whole again, which some cracked spots, just enough that His light can shine through me and hopefully help others.