Disbelief

I recently discovered something incredibly unsettling with a card I had paid off and haven't used or checked in a couple of months; my mother has been using it as if it's her own to pay off her bills and buy food. It explains why I hadn't been able to find that particular one before moving out. Although she's apparently been making payments on it, it's only the minimum due and the balance is several hundred dollars. She clearly doesn't understand how credit works, because this is the case with all of the cards in her name as well - maxed out and paying the lowest possible amount each month. The interest charge is usually enough to negate it, so the balance never goes down. And she simply does not understand that. I feel incredibly betrayed by this, especially considering she 'borrowed' $50 from me recently just to prevent the power from being turned off. I also feel like an idiot for ever trying to help her out.

Before I moved out I had paid off everything, just so I wouldn't have the extra worry of outstanding debt on top of rent. Just the idea of being that much in debt thanks to my own mother makes me feel sick.

Adjusting

In spite of having spent the majority of my life dealing with chronic depression, there are still times when it manages to surprise me in ways I would've never expected. Even when surrounded by loved ones on a day that's supposed to be a happy occasion, such as today, depression is a distracting presence even while I'm doing something I enjoy. In the process of discovering how to allow my 'true' self and emotion to show through, I've also discovered that it's becoming more difficult to hide the things I used to be all too good at hiding; anxiety, self-consciousness, sadness, and exhaustion to name a few.

Although I know it's not a terrible thing to show negative as well as positive emotions, I'm still adjusting to the idea that I can be myself around other people. I haven't quite gotten to the point of no longer feeling as though the world is separated between two distinct entities: 'me' and 'them'. How is it possible that even with a group of close friends I still feel like an outsider? Clearly logic can't apply to any situation dominated so thoroughly by negative thinking.

But, on a positive note, I've realized the recent spike in depression wasn't enough to overshadow everything. Being able to not only feel love, but feel loved in return is something new. What I had been experiencing before was a watered down version in comparison, apparently. It had been that way with everything except depression and self-hatred for a very long time, and I imagine the probable numbness to other strong feelings was a side effect of already being at my limit emotionally. I'm sure there were other factors involved, such as being afraid to allow anyone in and being too scared to open up, but I think it's safe to say that's no longer the case.

In all, I've felt overly emotional and conflicted ever since I moved out, but I don't regret it. I have no choice but to face the codependency issues with my mother head-on, and have just come to truly realize how bad the house was compared to living 'normally'. Now that I have a calm place to go to when feeling overwhelmed, everything else has become much easier to handle.

Breaking

Getting my life in order has proven to be much more difficult than I thought, and although two major events have improved it in ways that were once unimaginable, the anxiety has been at an all-time high in spite of the progress I've been making. I experienced a complete shutdown for the first time in a very long while, and found myself unable and simply not wanting to speak to anyone or do anything for several days. Interaction with anyone felt pointless, and thoughts of no longer wanting to exist have come back. Anger has returned as well. I'm told this is probably the result of directly challenging myself to live in a way completely opposite to what I'm used to. I now have the freedom to be open, sociable, honest, and no longer have wear a mask to hide who I am. If all of these things are nothing but positive, why does it feel so terrible?

What's most concerning is the fact that good experiences only help for a short time, a day at the most. After that, depression and self hatred find their way back into every waking thought. It seems uncontrollable. It's impossible to feel like I've made giant leaps in the right direction in spite of being told so by those whom I trust most. I find it difficult to avoid defining myself by their opinions, only because I feel I can no longer trust my own terrible opinion of myself.

As far as my current environment goes, it's helped immensely in calming down from the panic attacks that have been  happening almost daily. Calming down wasn't even an option in my mother's house. However, I keep catching myself in moments of dread any time I see a mess, regardless of how small. It's hard to avoid thinking I'll turn out like my mother just because I left something on the kitchen table rather than putting it away immediately. This fear arises with the most mundane things, such as noticing a pile of unfolded laundry my roommate happened to leave behind on the sofa. Seeing the sink full of dishes that were not mine. Finding dust on the kitchen counter. An endless list of things that most people don't care much about, and yet OCD mixed with the fear of becoming a hoarder makes it torturous to see anything out of place.