My name is Brittany, and my mental health story is quite the roller coaster, but I am deeply hoping that someone somewhere will read this and find hope in it.
I’m not sure I could tell you exactly when I knew I had a mental illness, everything for me started at such a young age. I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t know it was out of the ordinary. I was raised in a cult or a sect called branhamism. It took me a long time to utter those words, I was always taught that it was just church. I thought that this was what church meant. I won’t delve too deeply but to paint a clear picture it was a church that believed women should wear ankle long skirts, shouldn’t cut their hair, and should live at home and serve their husbands. There was no worldy music allowed, no makeup, tattoos or peircings, no nail polish, no birth control, the list goes on and on. The church greatly preached the end times over and over, drilling it into your head three times a week. I was raised in this church, this was all I knew.
So, from a very young age I began to develop severe anxiety. The first panic attack I can remember was when I was about 5 years old, possibly 4. I over heard my mother in the kitchen speaking with my older sister. I cannot remember the exact conversation except the words of my mother that still ring clearly in my ears. She said to my sister, ‘Brianna, in order to make something right that you have done wrong, you have to tell the person you have done wrong against.’ This may seem like simple advice, but to a five year old, it was the most terrifying information in the world. I immediately went to my room to think things out. Now, there was no one I had truly done wrong against at 5 years old but things seem a little different when you’re that young and don’t truly know right from wrong yet. My wrongs were not the wrongs of others. This is because my entire perception is skewed, but we will get to that soon. My wrongs looked more like bad thoughts. For instance, sometimes I would wonder if Jesus had private parts (which sounds very silly now but at 5 this seemed like a valid thought). However, because my church was very against sex as a whole (it was taught as a necessary evil once you were married) anything in relation to it sent me into a terrible panic. I would stay up all night, panting, crying, cold sweats, just staring at the ceiling for hours in absolute fear at 5 years old.
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