This is something I wrote a couple of months back, it's interesting to see how my perspective continues to change, even now.
Over the years the way I have viewed the events of my life and my mental health has changed dramatically. My perspective, context, and maturity are all factors, but so is my mental health itself. I’ve heard it said that every time we remember something we are not remembering the thing itself, but rather, the last time we recalled it. Well, I think that each time I look back upon what I’ve always thought of as my life’s interesting bits I edit both the contents and the perspective of my own memory, the way I tend to edit my poems and stories every time I open them up, even if it’s five or six years on.
As for my mental health, I currently see my anxiety as a series of hurdles, to use a cliché metaphor. Some are higher than others; some easier to jump over – and they are jumped over, there is no climbing, no slow inching upwards and over; I can only seem to get over them when I lunge as high as I can. And the same hurdle is usually repeated a few meters down the track.
There are so many things that I don’t believe I will ever be able to do easily, some situations in which I will never be comfortable, and some things that will always naturally make sense to me – even though they are senseless. But for the first time in maybe my entire life, I feel capable. I feel free. And I am able to be happy without the guilt or paranoia I felt all my life before. I feel as though I giant weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. But I am still experiencing disorder; I think I always will, for I always have.
From as far back as I can remember I was described as shy, quiet, creative, and intelligent. Everyone said so – my teachers, my family, my friends (the few I had, as they came and passed) – so naturally this is how I defined myself as time went on.