There is never a “perfect time”

I began writing formally on the internet in 2012. I was always inclined to advocate for human rights, especially breaking mental health stigma. I would post more about beauty than about health, but as I grew older, and went through some challenging experiences and powerful breakthroughs, I became more vulnerable. My desire to express myself became stronger as I faced my own shadows with little to no support.

Receiving messages from readers all over the world telling me how sharing a parts of my journey helped and inspired them to make healthier changes in their lifestyles was incredibly rewarding.

Why now? Why on a Sunday close to midnight? I’m not sure, I wasn’t planning on creating my website. But it felt right to do it now.

I will proceed with my most recent piece of writing:

Just Get Over It

“It feels like a heavy rock that you cannot see but you can feel its weight, as well as the damage it’s probably causing internally. I can’t see inside, but I have scars all over my body, even my on and inside my eyes, and I still have some open wounds. Some are actively bleeding. Some, I’m still able to put pressure on the wound, and there are a few I don’t feel comfortable looking at but I know they’re there. They’ve been bleeding for years, due to constant friction against foreign objects. Objects that feel like they were part of a dream, somehow. When you dream so vividly, it feels real. Sometimes reality feels like a dream. I dissociate. At first I didn’t know what it meant, until I stopped recalling certain events, finding my body retracing its steps to make sure I fulfilled a task. Sometimes my body feels so much pain at once, I become numb. My extremities. If I lay down, my gaze is lost, and it doesn’t care how it’s perceived by my ego. I freeze. 

I feel pressure on my lower back. I have grown accustomed to carrying too much weight for my size. Sometimes the weight protrudes between my ribs, causing me to stop breathing for several seconds at a time. I’ve been told I’ve been doing that. Then there’s the fear. I fear how others, especially my family, will perceive my lack of unintentional desire to move. To see anyone. To talk to anyone. This is a temporary wave, that I do know, however, dealing with family members can be extremely intimidating as they may not take certain triggers seriously, like mocking or telling me that there are people dying all over the world and I should feel blessed and be grateful that I’m alive, and I just have to “do something with my life.” 

I have learned it’s best to remain silent than to explain something to someone who won’t have the ability to empathize with you.

Bye, Bye, Blogger

My last blogpost on blogger:

I’m a 35-year old woman from Maracaibo, Venezuela. I immigrated to the United States in late 2014, but the US was always a second home. I was raised bilingual and went to an American School growing up. Got my bachelor's in Psychology in Venezuela and have remained “frozen” since moving. I would like to practice one day. 

It’s been a minute since I last wrote on this blog, especially about mental health — not to mention social media in general. In my opinion, it has changed too much and become overly-shallow. I always feel sad when I read news about another “influencer” committing suicide.

My old readers will know I have treatment resistant major depression and generalized anxiety, with some OCD and ADHD tendencies to throw to the mix. I was diagnosed with complex post traumatic stress disorder two years ago. CPTSD differs from PTSD, though they share similar symptoms.

I wanted to share an update on my story because I know there are millions of people out there feeling similar things I’m feeling. Maybe it’s not you, but your sister, brother, mother, father, girlfriend, partner, etc., and you feel scared, confused and have no idea how to deal with it, so you just work on your shield. 

Let me tell you — the last 3 years of my life have been some of the most trying ones. I was in a relationship that seemed warm, innocuous and magnetic initially, but over time, there was gaslighting, there was control over what type of makeup I wore, not making room for spending time with my friends, and lots, lots of lies. 

Enter the world of porn addiction. Yes, I lost my ex to porn addiction. And kratom. 

The hardest part for me these last few years has been functioning in a society that is  rigid and completely lacks spaces, intellect in corporations and financial assistance linked to mental health. It’s very difficult to get a proper diagnosis and a proper treatment. Sometimes treatments fail (something I feel very cognizant of,)  and in the process we may experience very unpleasant and terrifying symptoms. The saddest part: when people around you don’t understand, don’t make the effort to understand, label, distance themselves or mock and gossip. I’ve seen people making fun of someone else having an episode at a public place, or maybe on social media, and I always think to myself, “God knows what he/she is going through, where reality is so frightening, it turns into a disorganized, scintillating chaos”. 

After trying multiple medications for major depression, I decided to try a newer form of treatment: esketamine. I had a total of 11 sessions. I was starting to notice major improvement until my treatment was dropped to once a week after week #4. It’s very difficult to find time for it because esketamine clinics aren’t usually open on the weekends. You cannot drive yourself to the location, drive back home or drive at all for the remainder of the day. Trying to get family or friends to take you is difficult, and Ubers add up quickly. I loved having two sessions per week though. I felt so much relief to not feel anything, anything at all. 

Then my body felt like it disintegrated again as if it were made out of sand and wisps of air touched it. Tapering off psychiatric medications isn’t easy (recently tapered off two different ones.)  It can be frightening and debilitating (I’ve had to take a leave of absence from work and no, I don’t get paid), and it physically hurts (my heart hurts). Your symptoms worsen, and you may even develop ones you didn’t have before. Chances are you will feel like you’re losing your mind and can’t function. Your prefrontal cortex shuts off and you can’t make proper decisions. You say things you don’t mean. You act fearful with a palpable, overstimulated amygdala. You’d rather be alone to prevent any damage. 

Most people don’t understand trauma. It literally changes the structure of your brain. It weakens synaptic activity. I’ve given up on trying to discuss it with others, even if they are people who are close to me. It’s like Bessel van der Kolk describes in The Body Keeps The Score, you feel stained after trauma. I knew I would never be the same after being verbally, psychologically and physically abused. I just knew it. How am I ever going to trust another man? How am I going to feel normal again? How long will these memories haunt me for? And I defended him. And I let him walk free. 

Then there’s the triggers. It can be a sound, the face of a person, the way someone looks at you or speaks to you, a smell. Your body reacts quicker than your brain. You enter fight or flight mode. Most people don’t know what fight I or flight is, and would probably think the person is “crazy” if he or she is panicking under an “unthreatening” environment (ex: panic attack.) 

I feel drained. I feel scared. I’m tired of losing people — although to be fair, anyone who rejects you, pushes you away or criticizes you due to a mental condition is someone you should not have in your life anyway. This is when you will discover who your real family is. 

I have to be honest though: having your own family members disconnect from you due to a depressive relapse/panic attack burns. It feels like it physically burns. 

I started taking Auvelity two days ago. My psychiatrist mentioned it as a backup plan if Spravato didn’t work for me, because it works similarly to ketamine. My only hope is to feel a sense of relief, normalcy and stability. To laugh again. 

As I have mentioned in previous blog posts (years ago when I used to write!), if someone in your life is suffering from mental health, try to be open-minded and educate yourself, try to understand that our brains are wired differently. There are some people that don’t want to get better or don’t care but some of us do, and we’re trying. We’re still here. 

I lost a second friend to suicide, Nick, back in 2022. 

Handsome, charming, smart, had a beautiful fiancée. He seemed to have everything people dream of, and yet his pain became too much and he ended his life. I think about him and Naty (my other friend who took her life away when she was 16, I was 17) everyday. Multiple times per day. 

There are a lot of people suffering, especially with everything going on in the world. So be kind to one another… 

With love,

Patricia Montenegro

09/29/24