What’s wrong with me? I think everyone has asked themselves that at one point or another. I certainly asked it of my self often enough, especially during those awkward teenage years. Fortunately, or unfortunately, what is wrong with me can actually be diagnosed.
I have PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, moderate reoccurring depression, and if that were not enough, social anxiety. That’s right, on top of the flashbacks and panic attacks I am socially awkward in the extreme.Personally, I’d rather just be awkward and normal like most humans. But then again, what exactly is normal?
Getting officially diagnosed was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because I finally understood why I was acting the way I was, and why I reacted to normal, every day activities so much more violently than others around me. Knowing the answers to these questions made them easier to handle.
It was also a curse, because I was forced to realize just how long I had been in denial about my problems. And I was also a little angry that none of my family or friends had noticed anything was wrong. If one of them had, maybe I could have gotten help sooner. But that would not have worked.
If someone asked me how I was, I would say I was fine. I was the strong, independent girl who never asked for help and hated to accept it when it was offered. Most importantly though, until I was ready to admit to myself that I was not alright, I would not be able to truly get the help that I needed.
Now I can admit that there is something wrong with me, but more importantly, now I can and am getting the help that I need.
What do you do when you have no idea where your life is going?
If you have the answer, let me know.