When I was first diagnosed with GAD, I was absolutely reluctant to get treatment. I did my research – and by that I mean – I googled it, and I knew there were option two options.
Option 1: Talk about my sexual abuse and PTSD, in order to find ways to cope.
Option 2: Get on pills.
Honestly y’all, neither seemed like a viable option. However, you know what was – tree. It was so much easier and socially acceptable to be a stoner than it was to admit that I needed treatment.
Fast forward into the future, and I decided to get treatment. Oddly enough, talking about it with a social worker didn’t help. So, I went with Option 2. I am maybe 4 months in, maybe longer or shorter, and I feel great.
It does suck to have to pop pills everyday, but that’s a small price to pay for all that I’ve gained. To not have random panic attacks, days of not wanting to do anything, days of being overwhelmed while doing absolutely nothing. So many days lost feeling like shit. I told my partner that I didn’t feel like myself for almost 6 months. 6 months of me walking into the world, and interacting with people acting like I was okay. 6 months of me feeling like I was silently drowning in thoughts.
Nonetheless, those are days I can’t get back, BUT being on treatment, I feel like myself. I feel like this is a good thing, even if it took modern medication to get me here.
Yesterday after work, I was waiting for my friend to pick me up. I took a seat outside my office building, and chilled until he came to get me.
Suddenly, I see a guy approaching me directly. I was racking my brain to see if I knew him or not. When he finally made it to me, he told me that he wanted $2 to get something to eat. I responded by saying that I didn’t feel comfortable giving him cash, but if he wants, we can go somewhere and get him something to eat, and I’ll pay.
He agreed to my condition, and we made our way to the nearest Pizza Pizza. While we made our way over, he told me about his life. He recounted how he and him girlfriend are both homeless. He disclosed that he had some money on him, but was saving it for his girlfriend. As a result, he couldn’t afford dinner.
My skeptical readers are probably shaking their head, and asking:
How do you know he was telling the truth?
Honestly, that’s a great question, and my answer is “I don’t.” He could have been telling me a fable, but I choose to believe him.
He continued and stated that he was a recovering drug addict. He appreciated that I didn’t give him cash, and instead offered a meal. Once we arrived at Pizza Pizza, I offered the world, and he only ordered a pepperoni slice and a drink. A grand total of $8.
The boy I met. His name was Jeff. Jeff is experiencing homelessness, but he is so much more than just that one circumstance. It fucking SUCKS. It’s fucking MIND-BOGGLING to know that people are experiencing homelessness in a country as privileged as Canada, and in a city as proud as Toronto. He is a person. There is a whole theory dedicated to discussing how no good deed is selfless because the very act of doing a good deed gives one a feeling of euphoria. The question arises, if doing a good deed makes you feel good is it selfless? (I am totally getting sidetracked. We can discuss philosophical questions later – back to Jeff. )
This whole interaction didn’t last longer than 10 minutes. However, that’s 10 minutes that made a memorable impact in my life, and hopefully I had the same impact on his life.
As a black woman who wears outrageous hair colours and is way too bubbly for her own good, I find it important to show people, especially people experiencing homelessness, kindness and decency. You never know how a small act can effect someone.
With all of that being said, I challenge you to do a good deed, selfless or not. Go out of your way to make a positive impact in someone’s life.
One of my friends used to say, ” Everything is a learning experience.” It used to irritate the SHIT out of me. I would be crying about-how-some-guy-I-thought-was-the-one-ended-up-being-a dick, and she would sit there and nod, while whisper comforting things. Then say,
Everything is a learning experience.
Eventually, I realized she was right. This is why I can say I learnt something from my ex, despite all the shit he put me through. Yes, this sounds like a cliché. Nonetheless, it’s true. Even he knows it. (We’ve discussed this topic in the past.)
Before I tell you the lesson, another tangent. – I used to be a very selfless person.
With that said, the lesson my ex taught me is that it’s okay to be selfish. I always put everyone’s needs above my own. I got so used to giving, and giving, and giving. I forget what it was like to care for myself.
My ex forced me to care about me. He forced me to think about what would make me happy, and honestly it wasn’t until I met him that I started thinking about anything other than surviving. But, it wasn’t until I met my current boyfriend that I started living.
Universal, they say, “Some people come into your life for a season, and some come for a lifetime. Never mix seasonal people for lifetime expectations.” With this quote in mind, in the comment section, tell me about an experience where a seasonal person taught you a lifetime lesson.
Dreamt of flying. Crashed into reality.
Yes, you read that headline correctly, I have no intentions of completing my masters, and you know what? That’s 100% okay.
Ever since I’ve been diagnosed with GAD, I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching. And I’ve realized something. Adults always ask us the same thing, “What do you want to be when you get older?” A question that I’ve been asked repeatedly.
To be honest, I never really gave it too much thought because honestly I never pictured myself growing up. I NEVER pictured myself getting old having a career, etc. It’s just not something that came to mind. While my friends around me were picturing their futures, I was just living. Living – but not expecting much from the future.
So when time passed me by, and that question kept ringing in my head “What do you want to do when you get older?” I figured – I’m good at school, I like tutoring, and I like learning. Why not be a teacher? That was it. I was like a dog with a bone. I had planted the seed, and I grew a tree from it.
I applied to Concurrent Education Programs, got in, and started to follow “my dream.” The thing is, once I finished my undergraduate degree, I had to decide if I still wanted to become a teacher. Honestly, I didn’t. Not in the traditional sense. I didn’t want to teach middle school or high school. I taught in a middle school and absolutely hated it, so I figured I would purse high school.
However, just like that, another seed was planted. I heard myself saying “I still want to teach, but why teach high school? Aim higher, be a professor!” Then, I was on another dream. I applied to masters programs, got in, and started to follow “my dream” to Nova Scotia.
Now, the one thing I don’t tell people is that I hated it. I liked being away. I liked being in Nova Scotia. I liked my courses. I liked teaching. But I HATED writing my thesis. I threw myself into it because I knew I applied for it, and it was necessary that I completed it. But I never did.
I spent the last couple of months telling people what they wanted to hear.
“I’m going to finish it.” “I haven’t had the time to complete it.” “It’s going to be done by the end of the summer.”
I’ve been telling everyone what they wanted to hear, but I haven’t been able to admit the truth – I have no intentions of completing my thesis – not now anyway. For so long, I did what I thought I had to do. I did what was expected of me, and now I want to do what I want to do. Right now, I don’t want to spend time writing something that makes me miserable. I’m happy that I was able to gain that experience. I’m happy that I was able to finish my course, yes, my thesis is the only thing that is left. Maybe I’m dumb for not finishing it, but I do know one thing – I’m happier knowing that I don’t have to complete it till I’m ready.
Let me just say, I’m not ready yet! No one better @ me about this. It is what it is. I’m speaking my truth.