Mazie Beavers1 Comment

The Story Of Me

Mazie Beavers1 Comment
The Story Of Me

Hey, everyone! I hope you are having a wonderful day and enjoying your last little bit of summer. 
I decided pretty recently that I wanted to do a blog post to help you (my readers) get to know me more, and so I could talk to you about something that has impacted my life for as long as I can remember. I consider all of you my friends, and this is something that has been brought to my attention that maybe I should talk about. I hope that my story can help you, give you hope, and point you in the right direction.
Imagine this: the feeling in your chest and how your whole body goes numb when you get to the highest, most scary part of a rollercoaster or before your most important game, meeting, or competition. Imagine your hands getting clammy and your body sweating regardless of temperature. Imagine your muscles shaking without your control. Do you feel it? 
I know that I do. But, I don't just feel it when I am on a rollercoaster, or before I take a big exam. I feel it almost every day. I am not too good at story telling, but we will start here.
I remember recognizing that something may be wrong when I was in preschool. I wondered to my three-year old self why I had such a hard time coming to school for two hours when all of my friends were excited to be there. As I got older, I wondered why I struggled enjoying extra curricular activities. I wondered why I hated going out to eat, I wondered why I could not enjoy sleep overs like my friends could. I wondered why I had to call home from school every day begging to come home. I wondered why I never wanted to leave my own house. I wondered why I was terrified my parents would not pick me up from Sunday school. I wondered why I could go from the happiest girl in the world, to completely beside myself over something little. I wanted to be the normal, care free kind of kid. But, I was not. By junior high, I wondered... what is wrong with me? I couldn't explain the feelings I was experiencing, but I knew that I needed help. Thankfully, my parents were willing to give me the love and help that they could provide me with. I remember feeling so embarrassed knowing that my parents were ordering books to read about how to handle children like me. My parents knew that the help I needed was not something that they could give me. I will never forget my first couple of doctors appointments and trips to the school counselor. My parents took me to my pediatrician who then referred me to a counselor and a psychiatrist. I went in to my first counseling session and explained my feelings to the best of my little minds' ability. It was then that my questions were officially answered. "Mazie, you have an anxiety disorder.". My heart sank into my chest. I remember the feeling of feeling so alone, like no one could understand. I believe it was that same day, I had my first appointment with my psychiatrist. I do not remember much of anything from that appointment except for the conversation about starting me on medication. 
Flash forward to the next week, I began my daily dose of anxiety (panic disorder), and depression medication, and I also began my (very) frequent trips to the school counselor/ social worker. This was a point in time, where society was absolutely taboo about the idea of mental illness. I was under the impression that no one could know about what was happening in my head. I will never forget double checking the hallways to make sure no one saw me walking in to see the social worker's office. It was hard to accomplish that when I was going every other class period during the day, but I was determined to keep this part of my life private. Until one day in seventh grade. The office staff called down to my classroom over the intercom, informing everyone in my class that it was time for me to head down to see the school counselor. I ran out of the classroom as fast as my little legs could take me, I have never felt so embarrassed, and so different.
As I went to high school, my body began to handle my anxiety a little differently. I was able to handle things on my own, and ween off of my medicine after a few years of religiously taking it. Panic attacks began to be a lot less frequent, and I felt like it was finally over. But, quickly after my freshman year I realized that it was not over. The last three years of high school were incredibly difficult for me. I was cyber bullied, anonymously ridiculed for my appearance and for my mental illness, and criticized for pursuing my dream of blogging. My face was being put in picture collages next to aliens, animals, and photos of things these people had found on the internet. My phone was blowing up with voicemails and phone calls from people who would call me before bed, just to remind me that I was ugly, unworthy, and an all around disgusting person. My inbox was sending me alerts almost every day full of anonymous messages from people who were bored enough with their own life, that they had to go out of their way to make me feel worthless. And ya know what? They won. I had decided they were right. I had been pushed around, used, abused, and continuously hurt. I began living a lifestyle that I had always said I would never be a part of. I was not speaking love, I was not serving those who were in need, I was not working to further my relationship with God. I was in a rut. I was broken, and I frankly had a hard time believing that there could be a God who supposedly "loved me", but allowed these things to happen to me. My life seemed to be falling apart before my own eyes. The anxiety I had felt before was nothing compared to how it was at this point. It was growing as I was terrified to check my requested messages, to listen to voicemails, to even go to school. I do not remember how or why, but one morning I woke up and decided it was over and I wanted to fall in love with God again. It was over because I said it was over and something in my heart told me that my God would make that a reality for me. The verse Philippians 4:6 became my shelter. "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.". I got help from my resources learning to block phone calls, learning to make my inboxes private so that messages could not be sent to me. I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and to put an end to it. I even discovered who it was that was sending me the things I was getting, and I chose to not confront them. I decided that I forgave them. Their life must be pretty miserable if they got joy from attempting to ruin mine. After the longest three years, high school was finally over and I got an opportunity to move halfway across the country to have a fresh start. I was so excited to go somewhere where no one had to know where I had come from. But, it has been on my heart to share this with my Illinois family, my Georgia family, my readers from other parts of the country, and even the world. And my words to you are this. You are enough. You are beautiful inside and out. You have something unique about you that makes the world a better place, and you are loved by our Lord and Savior more than you will ever know. 
I would be lying if I said that I never have panic attacks anymore. Or if I told you that everything is just resolved. But, I would be telling the 100% truth by telling you that without my faith, and the love from the people around me, I would still be struggling like I was before. I never like letting my mental illness dictate what I can and cannot do, but sometimes it still does get the best of me. To be completely honest with you, this last week was a very hard week for me, and I was not really present or posting on Instagram because it was just too much for me. I am so blessed to have my parents, my sister, brother in law, nephew, and my boyfriend who help me stay positive and watch out for me always.
Mental illness is not to be dealt with alone. If you are feeling like you need help, talk to your family about going to see a doctor, go to the school counselor, go to any other resource and get help from someone who knows what they are doing. If you notice someone close to you seems to be acting like they may be dealing with a mental illness, make sure that they are getting the help they need to continue living a normal, happy, and healthy life. If you need someone to talk to, or need advice on how to help someone you think may be dealing with a mental illness, please reach out to me on Instagram or email me at typicalmaz@gmail.com and I will reply as soon as I see it. 
              Proverbs 12:25 "Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up."
XOXO,
Maz