Tag Archives: bipolar

“Pregnancy Scare”…but really just Scared

If you are having lots of anxiety with or around pregnancy or sex, check in with yourself to see if you’re having it anywhere else. Sometimes, anxiety disorders are at the root of pregnancy scares, especially if they’re happening a lot and even when there have not really or likely been risks.– Scarleteen, Pregnancy Scared?

I made it through a pregnancy scare in December. It was horrible.

When the scare began, I had just returned to my parents house in the States after a semester abroad in Budapest, Hungary. I had just left the place which I felt was my home, and with it, my (now-ex) boyfriend. Even after being back for three weeks, I still feel like I left half of my heart in that apartment in Hungary.

I had been having sex with my boyfriend in Budapest. Really safe and responsible sex. Of course, sex always comes with some level of pregnancy risk, but the risks we were taking were small. Logically I knew this, yet when I returned to the States, all of a sudden there was nothing that could ease my anxiety, my fear that I was growing a child inside of me.

I prayed to God over and over and over: Please, God, don’t let me be pregnant. And… if I am, can I miscarry? Kill it, God. Kill it, kill it, kill it. 

This “pregnancy” was eating away at me. Would I get an abortion? How would I tell my parents? What would my sister think?

I’ve heard that the power of thought is really effective at healing. That if your ankle is sprained, spending time every night imagining the ankle fibres meshing back together can actually speed up the healing process. I wondered if maybe this method worked for miscarriages, too. I spent every night hating myself: sending negative thoughts to my abdomen trying to kill off whatever bundle of cells I was convinced *must* be growing inside of me.

The rational part of my brain was constantly trying to quell the anxiety– The chances of you being pregnant are minuscule. You’re being ridiculous. And, at the least, chill out until you can get a pregnancy test. There’s literally nothing you can do at this point.

Yet I couldn’t ignore my missed period or my horribly painful breasts which has been that way for over two weeks.

As soon as I’d waited long enough for a home pregnancy test to have some measure of accuracy, I took one. Negative. Yay! The wave of relief only lasted a few days until I still hadn’t gotten my period. I convinced myself the result must have been faulty.

I felt so scared, so distressed, so alone. But… none of these feelings were actually about the pregnancy. I knew I wasn’t pregnant. And even if I was, so what? I’ve handled worse before.

I was scared, distressed, and alone, but… scared I wouldn’t be able to find another place which really felt like home, distressed over breaking up with someone I wanted to spend my life with, and alone alone because I’d just left a huge group of friends I’d travelled with, learned with, and grown up with– likely to never see again.

I honestly believe the fear of pregnancy was easier for my mind to wrap itself around when compared with the fear of my future. I was so happy last semester, and I worry I will never feel that kind of joy, love, and HOME ever again. That’s a lot.

I got my period. It was late, but it came. And why wouldn’t it have been late, after the stress of moving, international travel, final exams, and a breakup?

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A Love Letter to My Friend, Who is Suffering:

December 28, 2013

I want to tell you in writing how much I love you. I need to tell you this way, because I know you don’t believe me when I tell you in person– you can’t, your illness doesn’t let you. You told me that yourself.

You are so amazing at finding the good in other people, at finding their strengths and beauty, yet you can’t see it in yourself. You think you are worthless. I wish I could hold up a mirror in a way that would allow you to see yourself the way you see everyone else– beautiful, and perfect in their imperfections.

I want you to see yourself the way I see you. When I look at you, I see a girl who is strong, physically and mentally. I see someone who can finish workouts, homework assignments, exams, take care of friends, and lead a “normal” life all while on the verge of mental breakdown. You put up a good front. You’re a fighter. Never let them see you sweat. Or cry.

I wish I could take away some of your suffering. I wish you didn’t feel the need to take out your emotional pains by cutting into your skin or drowning them with alcohol. But I am so thankful you have let me in to this part of your life: because I understand, because I don’t judge you in the least, because I care about you and you mean so much to me. 

I don’t know why my meds have worked for me and yours haven’t worked for you. I don’t understand. Maybe you just haven’t found the right one yet. Maybe you just need a different therapist. Maybe this just isn’t the right year. Hang on, my love, hang on. I have seen the other side of this pain and it is worth the wait. The world really is amazing.

Please be careful. Please ask for help when you need it. Do it for me, or your sister, or the moon, or your younger self. Anyone. I’m here for you. I love you, and so do so many people around you.

It will get better. You know the emotional intensities pass. And I believe, truly and deeply so, that there will come a time for you as it has come for me when “good” days are not just “not-as-bad” days.

xoxo

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