TRIGGER WARNING

I've been taking this medicine for two months now (and counting). You see, I've been clinically diagnosed with Dysthymia.

I've heard it in our Psychology class before. To be honest, I never really considered that I had it, even if our professor asked us about how much we have in the criteria. Self-diagnosing is still not good (especially when you're anxious), but it wasn't serious. It just... made us think a little. Plus, she always said that it only becomes a problem when it was affecting our functionality.

Maybe not completely in my case, but it was affecting me badly. I also asked my doctor about my anxiety, but he says it may just be part of the drift. Maybe he is right, or maybe we just don't know enough yet. I am anxious and dysthymic -- a pretty long term package that I have grown to view as a part of me.

If I wasn't having trouble with coping, if I wasn't scared of reaching that point where everything has fallen apart, and if I didn't want others to see me break... I might not have sought help at all, because I need to look "okay", to sound "okay", and maybe just continue fooling everyone else that I am alright.

However, I am not. I rarely am.

Suddenly being diagnosed with Dysthymia wasn't hard. Needing to take my meds isn't hard either. However, living with what dysthymia stands for is hard.

Days and nights of not ever feeling a hundred percent. Pushing myself to be okay so others wouldn't know. Many nights crying myself to sleep. Many instances of finding out which method I should use to finish myself off. Searching for the cutter to ease the aches and chase the hollowness away. It's not that hard to smile, to laugh, and try to seem okay. Inside, I'm broken and still breaking. Shards of myself continue being ground into dust.

I am not sure if the meds are helping. I have yet to come back to school and face my majors. (Classes hasn't started yet.) Maybe then, we'll know if something has changed.

I am not ashamed of being dysthymic. I would fight for it, too. However, maybe not now. Not when I can't even fight for myself anymore. Not when I give myself up so easily to the demons that have been haunting me for years.