How I got here?


(Picture of me as a child because I’m cute af)

I haven’t written in a little while because I suck at sticking to things, and also because, to be honest, I just didn’t feel like it.

I’m feeling overwhelmed at the thought of everyone on my friends list knowing (or being able to know) this much about something I’ve fought for so long to keep private. I’m also overwhelmed with how much I want to share parts of my life on this blog, and I’m having trouble choosing what to write about.

I’m going to start at the beginning (beginning enough anyway). Think of this as some kind of timeline of treatment, starting with the first times I talked about my mental health with a professional to now.

Starting with Kids Helpline. I was at least 18 (Or maybe I was 17 turning 18 we don’t know) the first time I called kids helpline and spoke to the lady who became my first regular counsellor and spoke to for almost two years. Audrey answered the phone one night when I rang on a total whim, because I was scared of walking home alone in the dark. She wasn’t the first counsellor I spoke to, but she was the first that I spoke to more than once. She was there on the other end of the phone when I stopped working, when I started uni, and she was an important part of that time in my life. She was the first to tell me about anxiety and depression, and the reason I started going to face to face therapy in 2012/2013. She was rad as heck and just a beautiful lady who helped me get to the point where I felt comfortable getting the support I needed. I’m talking about her like she’s dead, but I don’t think she is, she just had to leave Kids Helpline. Which was sad because she was the literal best, but life goes on and I stopped calling Kids Helpline.

The face to face counselling came next, and has more or less been a regular occurrence since I started. I booked my initial appointment with Headspace Nundah, and it was an ordeal. I was anxious, and found it hard to tell the complete truth (I did try my best), they asked me a mountain of questions about things that I was experiencing and then  recommended I speak to the psychiatrist and the psychologist. The psychiatrist was my least favourite part of the whole process for a number of reasons, a few of them being that:

  1. He put too much emphasis on weight as an issue for me (it wasn’t).
  2. He told me over and over again how I wasn’t very self aware.
  3. He insisted that I must be worried about being bipolar (again, I wasn’t).
  4. He told me that my mum would need to be involved in my treatment, which I wasn’t ready for at that time.

All in all, I went in anxious and came out anxious, exhausted and worried about a whole bunch of things I didn’t need to worry about. I probably don’t need to tell you that I didn’t see him again.

I had my first session with my first psychologist, and honestly I can’t remember what happened. But she was much nicer than the psychiatrist, and I continued to see her for a year and a half. She ended up leaving and moving to Europe with her family. I then saw another psychologist (who I just didn’t click with), and then taking a break from therapy for six months. I returned to therapy after figuring out that I function a lot more like a human being when I am in therapy, and have been with the same psychologist since (even though I no longer attend services at headspace). My current psychologist “gets me”, and puts up with my reluctance to talk about the things I want and need to talk about.

I have also taken several different medications, which is probably best left for another blog post because that’s been a roller coaster.





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