Page 45 of Rewriting the Story

“Why has it always been so difficult for me to do the simplest things? I mean, it’s always been difficult for me to answer text messages or emails, and oftentimes, I forget about them until it’s been days or weeks and answering would just be rude at that point. But sometimes, even something as simple as doing the dishes felt like… Well, it felt like there was an invisible barrier in front of me that only came down when it wanted to. And why is my memory so terrible? Why can’t I remember the simplest of things? Are all these questions I have about myself able to be answered through my diagnosis?”

“Well, some of those things can be explained. Some people with your diagnosis experience situations similar to yours. Others are different. It’s not a one size fits all kind of thing. People often underestimate how difficult it is to simply wake up every day and live. With the amount of decisions, interactions, and about a thousand other factors that we go through every single day, it almost feels like a miracle we have time for other things, for other thoughts, for other feelings. When you add a diagnosis on top it, it’s astounding how we as humans can be so resilient in the state of brain fog, or the highest highs and lowest lows.”

I take in what she’s saying as she continues.

“Amelia, your brain spends all day trying to keep up with everything it’s taking in. It’s a lot for your mind to handle, and after spending all day on high alert at work or school or what have you, when you’re out of those situations, you have nothing left to give because you used it all. Your brain works differently, and that’s okay. Give yourself the space to really try and understand that, and don’t beat yourself up about the past.”

I can’t help the tears from pouring out. They’ve barely stopped since I walked out of this office last time, and finally having a reason to why I am the way that I am feels like a breath of fresh air.

I’m not broken.

I’m not a mess who just needs to work harder to get herself together.

I’m not someone who needs to work on her time management skills better.

I’m not lazy and unmotivated like my parents used to think I was as a kid.

And I’m not just forgetful.

I’ve barely been surviving. I’ve been giving all that I can, and I’m recognizing it’s okay to have been doing that, since it’s all I was able to do.

There’s something wrong with my brain, and after two decades of assuming I would grow out of it, I finally have a name for it. I finally know why I’m like this. This doesn't erase all the horrible stuff I’ve done, but it can help me figure out how to fix it going forward. This is the first step in the right direction, and I’m going to take it. I’m going to put in the work to manage this, and then maybe I can work on building back the relationships I lost.

The girls were the first people I wanted to call as soon as I found myself sitting on the floor of my apartment, furniture everywhere, crying my eyes out all by myself.

Then, I had another reason to tack onto my mental list of why I need to put the work in, of why I need to rely on the help from Dr. Elyse and whoever else she might bring in to help me through this.

And she’s right. I’ve come to understand a lot about myself and my life over the past year. I thought being a kid was hard. I could never wait until I was grown up so I could be an adult and people would take me seriously.

But that isn't how it is at all. I’ve started realizing being an adult is doing your usual routine no matter how you’re feeling. If you’re happy, sad, depressed, struggling, you still have to wake up every day, go to work, and pretend everything is fine. The worst part is, you realize everyone is doing that all the time. It’s not just you; it’s everyone. We’re all just masks floating through the world trying our best when we ourselves don’t feel like we’re doing enough.

Being an adult feels like having a never-ending to-do list where you check off something, and four more tasks pop up. It’s exhausting, and everyone is going through it, whether they’re aware of it or not.

It’s so fucking hard, and I’ve been struggling my entire life. Now, I have an explanation, if I can call it that. It isn't a miracle that’s going to fix all my problems and issues, but it is a start to figuring out what works best for me going forward.

Maybe things won’t be as bad once I figure it out, but the road to get there isn’t going to be easy. I’m going to have to wake up every day and work at this, even when I can’t bear to get out of bed.

“Amelia? Are you alright? Our session is almost over.”

I’m jolted back to reality as I look at Dr. Elyse. “Sorry. I got a little lost in my thoughts for a second.”

“That’s okay. What were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about where we go from here,” I say as I grab my necklace. “Can you explain to me what that looks like?”

She smiles at me as she opens her notebook back up. “Of course I can. First things first, we’re going to continue our sessions. Routine is important going forward. I really think a set one could help, but we can tweak what works and what doesn't.”

“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath.

“And this might be an unpopular opinion in the medical community, but medication really is the best path forward most of the time.”

“Why is that unpopular?”

“Well, medication isn't a one size fits all, kind of like a diagnosis, but in your case, I think it could really help.”

“You do?” I ask, nerves starting to settle into my body, my foot bouncing of its own accord.

“Yes. There’s a chemical imbalance in your brain, Amelia, and medication can work to fix that.”

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