Best Friend Day 2019

Last week was National Best Friends Day, or so the internet told me. I thought all day about what I should post, who I would tag, what photos to pull, and as much as I love me a good trendy internet holiday post, I couldn't come up with anything because I don't have pictures that express just how much gratitude in my heart for the people in my life that I refer to as my "best" friends.

Over the past two years, I have struggled profoundly. I moved away from home, I slept on couches for 9 months, I didn't always have a job, and I went through some mental health ups and downs. But through it all, I had people by my side, handing me the extra key to their house, driving me to therapy and doctor appointments, and even the hospital a couple of times. This group of humans who I'm lucky to call my "best" friends always answer the phone, shoot a text back, or send me encouraging words when they know I'm struggling. They find treatment programs for me, call doctors for me, and even go so far as to just bring me ice when I'm out and its the only thing I want in the world but I'm too anxious to go get it.

As a collective, my best friends have taken better care of me than I have ever taken of myself. That sucks to say sometimes, but it's true. They are the ones who look out for me when I'm not looking out for myself, and make sure that I keep on just having days until I can start having good days. They remind me to take my meds, feed myself, and encourage me when I'm down. They cheered me on when my family convinced me to move to Arizona for my mental health, and I know they'll keep cheering me on even when I'm like 1,000 miles away.

My best friends are the reason I've made it through these past two years. Because as a group, you guys didn't make me do it alone. You hyped me up in person and online, you cheered me on for every tiny step and every big one. You showed up when I needed you, and didn't make me hug you. My best friends are some of the best people that exist on this planet and I may physically fight anyone that argues me on that point.

When you have a mental illness you hear the term "support circle" a lot. And now, most people probably hear it a lot because its a pretty important thing to have. It has taken me a long time to put my circle together, but I'm so lucky that it has the members it does. I'm literally alive because of some of my friends. Without a few of you there are days when I wouldn't have made it through. I love you all.

Sorry I Suck

I have sucked lately. I mean SUCKED. As a friend, as a family member, as an employee, as a person, you name it. My mental illnesses have been winning lately. And not winning in a manageable way, either. My medication doesn't work, so I don't sleep or really eat much, but I do cry a lot and feel everything on a level that's almost painful. But what's the hardest is that it isn't obvious to most that I'm hurting, except for the fact that I've said I am. The words "high functioning" have been a blessing and a curse my entire life, because I've always felt I could just out fight my diagnoses by toughing it out and going to work, going to hang out with people, pushing it down. Deep inside I've known that's incorrect, and I've preached against this method of handling ones mental health issues since I was myself diagnosed.

But we can't always live what we speak. I worked myself so hard I crashed out spectacularly. And because I just show up and do it with a smile no matter what "it" is, I've always felt like no one can even notice when I'm spiraling out. I worked myself harder and harder to succeed at a job that I LOVED but I knew wasn't good for me. The pressure of touching people, being surrounded by large amounts of people, running into those who had abused me in some way in the past, and having to try to not have a panic attack while doing it, made me so sick I couldn't even get out of bed.

And then there was the pressure of just existing in a town that starts rumors about everyone who simply exists outside of the box that the town wants to put you in, the stress of having a niece born at 27 weeks, and working through medication adjustment after medication adjustment just to make my high intensity life seem a little duller (thanks to Borderline Personality Disorder I feel everything at an 11). Life has simply become TOO much. I am simply too much right now. I have all these symptoms I understand but can't fully control and no coping mechanisms.

I know I should be going to therapy, but my first experience with a therapist back here had them telling me to just meditate on my trauma. I'm sorry but if the first five therapists couldn't successfully get me to do guided meditation that was productive in my treatment, I doubt the sixth will be able to. I told her my reservations and she told me I had to actually try. I have not been back since. I miss my therapist back in Auburn, she looked like Anna Kendrick and was really good at just letting me rattle but forcing me to reframe negative thoughts and help me understand my illnesses, especially BPD, which is still a fairly new diagnosis for me.

Because of Borderline Personality Disorder, a lot of things that may not seem like a big deal to most people are read as a personal attack by me. Things as small as moving my purse can send me spiraling into anger or hysterical crying, because what the hell did I do to deserve for my purse to be moved, it wasn't hurting anyone, do they just want my things out of sight because they want to forget I live here? And if they want to forget I live here, are they going to move out and leave me? And then Abandonment Issues joins the party and we just keep spiraling through all the symptoms until I'm lying in bed, exhausted and out of emotions.

Because of Borderline Personality Disorder I've started to notice that I connect with people too quickly and rely on them too much. I've worked really hard to not be so codependent but when I feel that someone understands me, I want to be with them or talk to them all the time because no one else does it feels like. So then I rely so much on that person that I basically hug them to death and they run away.

I feel guilty being friends with people. I feel guilty telling people I'm hurting, because my problems seem like they are so numerous that if I open the door, they'll all fall out at once and people will drown in my problems. And then they'll run. I hate when people run. My support circle fluctuates so much because my symptoms have been so out of control.

Trust me guys. I know that I can be toxic to be around. I sit at home and cry about it. I didn't use to lash out at everyone, I used to really internalize things. But lately I've just felt ugly whenever I'm having a low day and I've become mean, and ugly, and I hate it. I feel so guilty after I'm rude, and I never know how to apologize for my brain literally just leaving me behind and making me a monster.

I'm sorry I've sucked so much. I'm trying so hard to be better and be happy and be healthy but it is a fucking struggle. I love you guys.

Alexis Olmstead is 25 years old and lives in Okanogan County, WA. She's currently working on her first photo series that explores what life with anxiety and depression really looks like. When she's not staring at her niece or sleeping, Alexis is watching too much Netflix documentaries about serial killers. Check back sporadically for more posts. But not too often, because this is the first post in like, a year.