I find myself in a state of deep apprehension as I stand before you, compelled to address a subject that, despite its perverse nature, I have chosen to confront openly. My purpose today is to discuss the affliction of anxiety and elucidate how embracing this distressing sensation, one that I have instinctively evaded throughout the majority of my existence, has enabled me to construct a path leading away from the precipice of suicidal isolation. In the ensuing 18 minutes, I shall elucidate upon the methodology employed in the construction of the aforementioned bridge truss. This discourse shall encompass the concepts of purpose, hope, exposure therapy, commitment, and transparent vulnerability. I aspire for this to function as a comprehensive guide for individuals grappling with anxiety and depression, potentially offering aid and support to those who may benefit from its contents. The genesis of my journey was initiated by an individual who regrettably cannot be present with us today. It was my closest companion, Laura, who stood beside me during my nineteenth hospitalization in a psychiatric facility following my solitary suicide attempt. In a gripping moment, Laura firmly grasped my hands, causing them discomfort, as she beseeched me, "Kate, you must make me a promise. You must vow to persistently engage in the battle against adversity and perpetually share your personal narrative. By doing so, you will eventually discover illumination." Although her proposition appeared far-fetched, considering our shared confinement within a secure psychiatric ward due to our respective suicide attempts, I nevertheless committed to honoring her request. I pledged to persevere in my fight and to continue sharing my experiences, driven by the welfare of others. The following day, Laura, against medical advice, voluntarily left the ward and returned home. Tragically, that very night she succumbed to her inner afflictions. While the media labeled it as a suicide, I forever classify it as a consequence of her debilitating illness, for that is precisely what it was. Subsequent to her passing, I clung steadfastly to the commitment I had made and the purpose it imbued. Today, I present this solemn vow as the foundation of my journey. Laura, your absence is deeply felt every day, and I extend my gratitude to you. This talk is devoted to your memory.
My struggle with darkness commenced long before that hospitalization, to be completely honest. In actuality, this darkness, which takes the form of debilitating anxiety, originated during my childhood. At that time, in order to evade the overwhelming sensations of trembling legs, a heart seemingly leaping out of my chest, and an incomprehensibly racing mind, I resorted to consuming marshmallows, chocolate chips, Vienna fingers, or any available foodstuff within my reach. I attempted to suffocate my darkness with sustenance; this became my initial maladaptive coping mechanism, and subsequently, several others emerged. During my middle school years, I experimented with restrictive eating, while in high school, I resorted to bulimic behaviors. Furthermore, following the diagnosis of bipolar disorder at the age of 18, additional coping strategies began to take shape. Some of these strategies were prescribed by professionals, while others were self-imposed. They involved undergoing trials with 20 different types of medications in an effort to numb the overwhelming anxiety, subjecting myself to electroconvulsive therapy as a means of shocking it out of me, engaging in excessive exercise in an attempt to flee from it, inflicting self-harm by cutting my arms to extract it from my body, purifying myself through bleach and ceaseless showers to wash it away, and engaging in ritualistic practices, adhering to carefully repeated protocols, often in sets of three. Regrettably, none of these methods provided any respite from my anxiety or darkness, nor did they render my life more manageable in the slightest. Consequently, I found myself striving to meticulously devise a plan for suicide, viewing it as the ultimate pact to liberate myself from this anguish. Ultimately, none of these coping strategies alleviated my anxiety, dispelled my darkness, or enhanced the manageability of my life in any measure.
At the age of 26, I found myself deeply affected by obsessive-compulsive disorder, medication-induced hallucinations, isolation, and suicidal thoughts. Consequently, I was placed on psychiatric disability. Shortly thereafter, it was strongly advised that I be transferred to a long-term inpatient psychiatric facility for the remainder of my life. I distinctly recall the moment the crisis care team informed me of this decision, as it made me realize that I had run out of viable options and would be consigned to permanent hospitalization. A profound sense of hopelessness enveloped me, and upon returning to my room, I inscribed in my journal, recognizing it as the lowest point of my existence. However, when my parents, who happened to be well-connected healthcare professionals, became aware of this recommendation, they grew desperate to explore one last alternative. They managed to secure an appointment with the only doctor who was willing to see me prior to my scheduled consultation. I approached this meeting with trepidation, having heard rumors within the wards about the extreme intensity of this individual. Furthermore, I was acutely aware that my encounters with this doctor would determine whether I spent the remainder of my life confined behind locked doors. On that initial day, the doctor barely greeted me before launching into his discourse. In his customary deadpan manner, he conveyed the fundamental principle underlying our work together: the onus lies solely on me. Astonished, I laughed in his face, perceiving it to be another futile attempt to offer a solution. I retorted, believing myself to be beyond salvation, "Doctor, you must be mistaken. It cannot possibly be up to me. I am destined to remain in this ward. How can you save me when no one else could?" His response was a momentary pause, followed by the first and only smile he displayed throughout the session. He replied, "Oh, Kate, I am not here to save you. My role is solely to teach you. It is your decision whether you choose to learn, exert effort, grow, and ultimately save yourself." With that, he concluded, "That will be all for today. I will see you bright and early tomorrow morning."
On that particular evening, within the confines of my personal journal, I articulated a plethora of profanities in relation to the task you have solicited me to undertake. I contemplated how my existing affliction was already an arduous endeavor, and I also expressed my gratitude for the initial time in over a decade that a physician exhibited faith in my competence and worthiness to participate. Despite being oblivious to it at the time, this instance instilled within me a sense of hope. Consequently, I proceeded to construct the second pillar of trust, symbolizing hope, during my subsequent appointment. During this encounter, Dr. C introduced the concept of exposure therapy, which would subsequently form the third pillar of my metaphorical bridge. Without wasting any time on pleasantries, he delved straight into the matter. I shall acknowledge that exposure therapy demands a considerable amount of effort; however, its efficacy has been empirically validated for individuals grappling with anxiety and depression, much like yourself. The underlying principle is rather straightforward: as the patient, you must intentionally subject yourself to the very stimuli that evoke fear. By repeatedly immersing yourself in situations that instigate anxiety, you gradually reconfigure the neural pathways in your brain, eventually diminishing your response to such stimuli. In essence, by directly confronting your fears, you teach your body that you possess the capacity to cope with them. Panic ensued within me as I grappled with the realization that you intend for me to engage in activities that terrify me. If my memory serves me correctly, I believe you are meant to assist me, not exacerbate my distress. Unperturbed by my emotional outburst, Dr. C calmly replied, "Indeed, Kate. That is precisely the objective. Now, for your homework, kindly compile a comprehensive list of all your fears. Subsequently, proceed to rank them based on their respective levels of fear-induction, from the least to the most potent."
During my subsequent session, I proudly presented Dr. C with a meticulously prepared compilation of my fears, consisting of 13 pages typed in single-spacing. However, his response was rather unimpressed. "Okay, Kate," he began, "now that we have this list, which we shall refer to as your hierarchy, we will address each item on it through a process of exposure therapy." As he spoke, my mind raced with apprehension. It was precisely what I had dreaded. I had an overwhelming desire to flee, to conceal myself, to do anything but confront these fears. Yet, I reminded myself of the choice before me: him or the mental institution. Reluctantly, I decided to stay and listened as Dr. C guided me through my first exposure task - the daunting act of leaving my apartment. Merely mentioning this task brought forth a flood of tears, and through sobs, I declared, "This task is insurmountable!" Intrigued by the sudden outpouring of emotions, Dr. C inquired about the significance behind my statement. I took a momentary pause, grounding myself once again in the realization that my options were limited to him or the ward. With resolve, I proceeded to express my concerns to Dr. C. "When I engage in activities that evoke fear within me, I invariably suffer an unfortunate mishap. Frankly speaking, the experience terrifies me to no end." Despite the candid nature of my revelation, Dr. C remained unperturbed, responding with empathy, "That must indeed pose a significant challenge. Allow me to arrange an appointment with a gastrointestinal specialist and, in the meantime, would you consider using adult diapers?" Contemplating his proposal, I once more reminded myself of the choice I faced: him or the mental institution. Consequently, I opted for his guidance, the arduous therapeutic process, and the temporary aid of adult diapers. From that moment forward, I never looked back. That day, I constructed the fourth pillar of my commitment - the pillar of unwavering determination.
I have worn the peach-colored excessively voluminous undergarments on numerous occasions, although I am hesitant to disclose the exact number. However, today, thanks to my personal progress, I stand here without them. Nonetheless, I must admit that I required those undergarments for my initial exposure. This initial exposure involved leaving my residence and venturing to the adjacent parking lot on a daily basis. Each time, I would position myself beside the dumpster of my building, experiencing anxiety-induced trembling in my legs, a racing heart, and perspiration trickling down my chest, even pooling within my navel. In that moment, I stood there, confronting my fears and baring myself to the world. This routine persisted for a period of two weeks, until my neighbors reported the situation to the security personnel. When I explained to these security officers that I was engaging in a therapeutic process, they were perplexed and ultimately left me alone. Consequently, I continued with my exposures. After four weeks of standing beside the dumpster in my apartment's parking lot, my anxiety gradually began to dissipate. By the sixth week, I no longer experienced any fear when leaving my apartment. I distinctly recall the subsequent appointment, where I witnessed the effectiveness of exposure therapy. I confidently entered Dr. C's office and declared that I would no longer be a victim of suicide or allow myself to be confined behind locked doors. I acknowledged that Dr. C was right—I am the solution. It seems I possess the ability to grow and overcome. Encouraged by this living testament to the therapy's efficacy, I proceeded to expand my exposures. I incorporated activities such as walking into town, navigating through populated areas, and even sitting in public spaces, deliberately making myself visible. Four months later, I took another significant step forward by initiating conversations with other individuals.
One of the individuals in question was a distant acquaintance from high school. Considering that my list included inviting someone to a dinner engagement, I extended an invitation to her for supper that very night. As I found myself overcome with panic, I pondered the nature of conversations at a social gathering of this nature. Having heard of Lee Google's resources, I resorted to searching online for guidance on hosting a dinner party and posing thought-provoking inquiries. However, upon her arrival, I diverged from relying on my list of questions generated by the internet. Instead, I allowed myself to exhibit vulnerability and confided in her, recounting my personal narrative, encompassing the anguish of enduring 21 psychiatric hospitalizations and the recent revelation by my doctor that I had been misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder. I shared the reality of my existence, plagued by pervasive anxiety. Despite the discomfiting presence of anxiety coursing through my entire being, I was met with unexpected understanding from my friend. She bestowed upon me kindness and a sense of belonging. That night, I solidified the fifth and final component of my bridge: transparent vulnerability. My journey of exposing myself to others continued, with each instance allowing me to gradually transcend my state of isolation and construct a new life. This new existence has been characterized by gratitude, forged connections with friends and family, a loving partner, and a meaningful occupation. It is a life that neither I nor any medical professional could have fathomed for me. Throughout the past three years, I have remained true to my commitment to Laura by recounting my experiences through storytelling, writing online, and sharing on social media platforms. In doing so, I have unearthed the immense power of transparent vulnerability. This fifth and final pillar is unequivocally essential to my bridge, as it facilitated the formation of a community, fostered comprehension, and bestowed genuine acceptance of my authentic self. Much like the gradual process of exposure therapy, I embarked upon this journey of sharing slowly and gently. Initially, I divulged details about my battle with depression, followed by revelations about my obsessive-compulsive disorder. Finally, buoyed by the overwhelming support stemming from my unfiltered honesty and openness, I disclosed my past suicide attempt and expressed gratitude for surviving such a harrowing ordeal.
The day subsequent to disclosing my suicide attempt, a note arrived in my inbox. Its contents stated, "And then I found you. You openly share every aspect of your life, encompassing your triumphs, tribulations, endeavors for well-being, weariness, exultation, and grief, and how they collectively shape and cultivate your sense of gratitude. Although I lack substantial offerings, I express my gratitude and want you to recognize that your unreserved vulnerability, as you refer to it, prevented me from pulling the trigger. It was then that I realized I had constructed not only a means of escape from darkness for myself, but also a path for others. In the span of my current 15-minute discourse, an alarming 25 individuals have perished by their own hand on this planet. Their tragic fate leaves me utterly heartbroken. Yet, today, I stand before you brimming with optimism, as I now comprehend that an avenue exists to emerge from this abyss. While it may manifest as the bridge behind me, characterized by these five supportive trusses for individuals grappling with anxiety, it represents something entirely different for the rest of the world unaffected by it. It embodies a symbol of unity built solely upon a single principle: transparent vulnerability and the embracing thereof. I beseech you today to embrace this principle, to share your vulnerabilities, and to demonstrate kindness when others do the same. For if we can collectively celebrate the truth that both suffering and joy coexist, we shall construct a bridge to a realm where everyone belongs. That, my dear audience, is the essence of my aspiration. I yearn to construct a bridge to a realm wherein individuals like Mora will not depart from this world, leaving behind heart-wrenching notes that resonate, 'I simply do not belong.' Therefore, let us embark on this audacious journey, this courageous stride, to confront our pain and foster personal growth amidst discomfort. Here's to that bridge, and to the world we are determined to establish through it. I eagerly anticipate our arrival at that destination."
See also: https://mygodsentangels.com/