Dealing with Mental Health as Someone with Impostor Syndrome

So, the first semester of my third year just ended, meaning I’m now on Christmas break. Usually, I’d be all “Wahoo!” by now, but after suffering through what might be the worst and most deteriorating semester of my life, I find it hard to dig for that holiday spirit.

I like to think that I’m self-aware and know that I do have issues, it’s just that I don’t really do anything about them. In a contradictory fashion, I also know that I find it hard to believe that I may be suffering mentally. For the longest time, I’ve doubted the harshness of my mental hardships because “other people seem to have it worse than me.” It might’ve stemmed from when I was younger, around the time I was in junior high school, and I was in a friend group where there were a lot of peers my age who would delve into self-harm. Whenever they vent or share their experiences, I find myself unable to speak up about my own struggles because they seem so small and silly compared to what they were going through. To be clear, I have never self-harmed (apart from scratching) because I’m too scared to.

Throughout my life, I seem to always find myself surrounded by friends and peers who’ve just been dealing with worse situations and dealing with them in self-destructive ways. I, of course, try my best to be empathetic towards them because they’re my friends, and there’s no hesitation in me trying to help with whatever I can. But when it comes down to me, I just find it impossible to believe that I could be suffering from anything worse than anxiety. Until this semester, that is.

This semester has been eye-opening in both positive and negative ways. I guess you could say I’ve had some realizations that put things into perspective. A really significant moment was me having my first panic attack. I was in the car, my mom was driving my brother and me to school, and right from the moment I woke up that day, I felt off. I remember googling about mild depressive episodes because it just felt spot-on for what I was feeling. It was mostly fine until the middle of the ride, where everything just went to sh*t for me. I just remember thinking over and over, “I don’t want to go to school,” while my chest felt impossibly tight, and I was trying my best to breathe normally and keep my tears back. There was no trigger; it just happened. I didn’t alert my mom or brother because it felt stupid to be panicking over something I’d done regularly for the past six months. There was nothing stressful that day either, no presentations or deadlines. It was just a typical day, and I was emotionally wrecked.

And in the end, when I got to school, everything just disappeared. I returned to my regular routine and got through the day without any more hiccups, leading me back to thinking if anything I felt or experienced was real. I have no idea if I’m just subconsciously seeking attention or if I am actually going through stuff. Do I just want to be mentally ill, or am I actually? I still don’t have an answer to this day. I’d get a diagnosis, but my family and I neither have the time nor funds to invest in whatever is happening to me mentally. My family doesn’t even know that I’ve gotten “this bad.”

I just don’t know. Anyway, that’s it for this post. I know it’s such a bummer of a blog to post, especially since it’s so close to Christmas, but I genuinely have no one to talk to or vent to about such things because I’m emotionally constipated. I think it’s also healthy not to post just good stuff because no human ever only goes through good things. It doesn’t hurt to show a bit of ugly here and there. Hopefully, my next post will contain more positive vibes than this. But for now, happy holidays, and I hope you’re having a better time than I am.