Gemini, an exercise in delicacy

The earliest thing I can remember is being pulled out of my classes in elementary school. I was one of those kids- you know, the ones that would mysteriously leave class, for the rest of the period with no pushback from the teacher. From first to fifth grade, I was summoned from the room by a staff member. From sixth grade on, I knew when to go. I'd grab my stuff, get a brief rundown from the teacher on the rest of the day's lesson, and head to the counselor's office. I don't know if this is normal in other schools, but it's not something I bring up to other people very often. Childhood trauma makes for awkward party talk and advertises you to all the wrong people.

Every time I was called out of class, a tense atmosphere would fall over the room. It was odd for a student to seemingly without reason, and the other students knew this. I knew this. There were a couple of kids in my grade who would do the same, and we seemed to have a silent understanding. I remember seeing Jeremy, a boy I thought was a absolute ass-hat, walking out of the counselor's door as I was waiting to be called in for my appointment. Incidentally, Jeremy had also met with the same nightmarish juvenile detention intervention counselor that I'd had the misfortune of meeting with, but that's a story for another time. From that point on, I showed a lot more empathy for him.

I saw "school-based mental health counselors" until I was thirteen. It was decided that I had situational depression, and they said I no longer needed the help. I disagreed, and still do, but I'll tell that story some other time- along with the other one. They're closely related anyhow. Mental health and self-destruction are old friends.

My adolescence was tough. My mother, who has had a decades long battle with her own mental health, struggled to be fully present with me. Even in the moments that she made an effort, my own thoughts were so deeply entrenched in my own pain, that I often failed to be present for her as well. I sought out many vices- I'll remain vague on that- and my mother could do little to control me. My school performance was best described in my report cards as "Has potential, but no effort." and I had a few more close calls with juvenile detention. Despite all this, I managed to do pretty well in my English classes. I'd always loved to read and write, and it became my biggest outlet.

As I moved into adulthood, I spent a few years doing psychedelics and reading into various spiritual practices. I would highly suggest both activities, but I don't think it's for everyone. I fully believe there is a reason those worlds are so deeply connected, but both require you to dive into discomfort to achieve a greater outcome. I made many breakthroughs and learned a lot, though I'm sure my levels of spiritual self-assuredness made me insufferable to those who could tell I had a long way to go. I continue to carry many of those lessons into the present day, and feel like I'm in a healthier place because of that time in my life. I still had major lows and was no stranger to bad decisions, but they steadily decreased over the years. I volunteered with NAMI for a brief period, going to schools and telling my story to elementary and middle school teachers who were seeking to become better versed on mental health in children.

Now that my behavior is more under control, I've recognized that some of the behaviors that have trended through my life are abnormal. I started watching YouTube videos from mental health specialists and came to some conclusions that led me to seek out a counselor of my own. I am wary of self-diagnosis, but I suspect that I have ADHD or OCD, both of which rarely manifest in the way that they're stereotyped. This leads to them being overlooked, especially in young people. ADHD is infamous for going undiagnosed in women. The therapist I'm seeing seems to agree with me, but we've only met once so she's taking her time to come to a diagnosis, which is fine by me. I've gone the better part of two decades knowing something was wrong and trying to stop it from ruining my life. A few more weeks won't kill me.

I don't necessarily see these as a hindrance, not entirely. Most of the time, I feel like there are two sides of myself in a constant battle, arguing back and forth about the most appropriate way to handle a situation. One, that has been there as long as I can remember, goes off the cuff and suggests all kinds of problematic things but is a strong source of drive and creativity. The other, which is more recent and developed out of necessity, does its best to keep me balanced and focused, though it can keep me weighted down and burned out. I know a lot of people think astrology is dumb, but I'm a Gemini (the twins), so I find the whole two-sides development amusing. It's a delicate balance, but I'm doing my best.