I have been out of the harmful and dangerous environment I grew up in for one year and ten months now, but the depression and anxiety of being in that house, with that person, is still sticking around. Not only is it just sticking about, but it has only become worse. Why? I do not know. I feel safe in the house I am in now, I am not scared of coming home anymore, I finally have a house where I can live in without any critical judgments.
‘It takes times’ they say, which great and all but, life doesn’t wait for any mental illness to calm down to a livable state. In the meantime, I will have to get used to the numerous panic attacks, feelings of being lethargic, and not being able to live life as I should be allowed too.
The similarities of the situation are related to those of a relationship break up. Being reliable on an individual for a period, and then having to readjust yourself when split, is like being used to a bitter environment and then adapting to a new environment. Even though the environment now is not in danger, my brain doesn’t realise that. My mind is familiar with constant emotional abuse hurled hourly; my mind is in a different space, and when you are in a different place that you aren’t accustomed to you can get anxious.
Maybe that is why it is hard to move on if you’re not over it. Sadly I am used to living in an environment for 18 years that was unhealthy, but also one where severe anxiety and depression developed. Recovering for the past two years doesn’t vanish the 18 years of agony beforehand. So it does take time, I haven’t recovered yet, and it is up in the air when I will. I need to reprogram my brain, know that I am safe now being in this unknown space I call home. Maybe my brain will realise this, and I hope it is sooner than later.
This post is part of a series where I will be reflecting back to my younger self, and how my mental illness developed.