Avoidance,

So part of my goals for 2018/general mental health is to write a blog post a week, typically posting something by Monday or Tuesday. I am late, because for the first half of the week my brain was flying so fast in so many different directions that all three of the posts I tried to start/revise got thrown out as stupid almost immediately.

It didn't help that my depression swung into full flung The World Hates You Stop Talking mode sometime Sunday night, which brings me to:

                                             --Obligatory Mental Health Update--
My brain took a turn down Bad News Street this weekend. Probably a combination of too many things with lots of people followed by too much time left in my own head, and the stress of having to run my classroom solo this week since my head teacher is out of the country on a well deserved vacation. (Please note, we have an amazing team so I'm not actually by myself, but everyone else has a job to do so they can't always support as much as they want to). Not even the promise of getting to go see one of my amazing camp people this weekend could fully stave off the emotional suck, which means I went to a party, work, and a church meeting feeling like shit with a smile on.

Bright side: I got in touch with a counselor this week, so I should be at least talking with someone soon. Which leads ever so nicely into the rest of this post:

I avoid things. Writing blogs. Doing chores. Grading. Conflict. If I don't want to do it, there's a solid chance it won't get done. This is not healthy. I am aware that it is not healthy. But family systems being what they are, I'm almost genetically wired to not engage with something that might 1) make someone else upset, or 2) make me upset.

Which is why I have put off getting in touch with said counselor even though I have had her contact information since I started looking for referrals. A month ago.

And to add fuel to the already maelstrom of fire the Brain Gremlins have been shooting off this week: This is not the first counselor I've had. I've been in therapy before. I found it unbelievably helpful. I legitimately like having someone to talk to who can provide perspective on my life that I might not see. When I shot off a message to her a few days ago asking if she had availability I was relieved.

And yet, as I read her message back to me, asking for some cursory details and a time we could meet, I found myself in a state of upset-ness with which I am far more familiar than I would like to be.

I don't actually know if they qualify as panic attacks, because to be honest I'm not super clear on the criteria, but I'm pretty sure sobbing uncontrollably while trying and failing to maintain some semblance of control over your breathing constitutes an atypical response to emailing a therapist back. Especially when you're not really sure why you're panicking. I was not in danger. Literally nothing was happening, and yet my brain told my body to throw my phone and go fetal until the danger had passed.

It's not a fun experience. But where in the past I would have tried to deal with it (poorly and ineffectively) myself, this time around I actually remembered that I have friends who love me that have told me I can call them if I need a person. So after a two hour phone call with a life long friend, and the support of my amazing roommate, who sat with me while I emailed this lady back, I have successfully started the process of talking to someone about all this.

It's a step that might seem small to some, but given my baggage, and the lengths I generally go to to not have to deal with it, I'm both glad and freaking nervous about starting this new journey.

For the time being. I'm doing my best to actually reach out to my people and let them know how I'm doing honestly. As it turns out, as nerve wracking as that can be, it generally leads to feeling better. Because the people in your life that really love you, love you no matter what.