The term “psycho girlfriend” is thrown around like confetti. You see women jokingly calling themselves “psycho”, you see men calling their significant others “psycho” because they weren’t acting like they were in a constant state of relaxation. It is to the point that using this term and even describing people with this term is somewhat acceptable.
I know it’s all a joke. To some it is just a joke, something not to be taken too much to heart. However for others like myself, it is real and it hurts.
Suffering from high-functioning depression and anxiety does not mean I am “psycho”. I do not mean to grill people who I am involved with about the fact I struggle to believe the words they say. I do not mean to be in one of those “weird moods” – but those weird moods are actually when I’m suffering the most. I realise that I am obsessive. I am not obsessive over you, I’m obsessed with finding something wrong with you. I become seduced by the idea that you are not the person you say you are, that you will hurt me.
Deep down I know this is my mind playing tricks. My anxiety throwing hoops around my brain, my depression sitting tight because I’m not someone who people love – right? I find myself constantly watching what I say, how I type out a message and which emoji I should put so a simple passing comment is not misconstrued as “psycho”. It takes up more time than you would think.
My mind constantly runs wild. Sometimes I have to put my laptop in a completely different part of the house and my phone tucked away, occasionally turned off. I have to do this because I will find myself knee-deep in another search for something wrong. Extreme lengths to find, well, nothing.
To those who have not experienced anxiety will see this as a classic “psycho girlfriend” state. Let me assure you, this is not a case of wanting to do this. It is never a case of wanting. There is not a day that goes by that I do not wish that I did not have to feel this way – that I did not feel as though I had to do these things. Unfortunately I do.
Antidepressants have been a good friend of mine this past year. They help me get out of bed and be that bit more social, to balance out the good and bad days (not perfectly, but better). What they do not help with is trust issues, the constant need to be shown love and other personal issues to long to list. They can help decrease the anxiety you feel in certain situations, but they cannot erase the times you have been let down in the past to make you feel this way.
I do not expect every second of your life to revolve around me, just like my life won’t be completely revolved around you. I notice changes in little things, timing; tone; slight changes in reaction. Again the list could go on. My life would be easier if I was oblivious to these changes, if I didn’t read into them too much that I could potentially write an English Literature report on the connotations of what you really meant when you said “Speak soon”, instead of “talk to you tomorrow”. Sounds ridiculous right? Psycho perhaps?
My anxiety is not me being “psycho”. My anxiety does not make me unstable either.
A joke is a joke, I get that and I am not taking the laughs away that you may share with your friends about how “psycho” you went last night. What I want you to take away is that being anxious is not the same as being psycho. It is something that you will lose sleep over, trying to figure out how you can change your ways. It is something which makes you feel like you are constantly stepping on egg shells. It is not a joke, it is everyday life, but I am not nor will I ever be a “psycho girlfriend” because of my anxiety.