- Friends & Family
- Mental Health
My depression was full blown by the time I was 20. Looking back, the panic and anxiety began when I was much, much younger but I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling. I can remember in college I once stayed in my room for three days; I went out only to use the bathroom. I hid under my covers (tan and white checkerboard pattern that I counted over and over) and wished I would just die. I think part of me did. No one talked about it; no one really wanted to hear about it.
College was supposed to be fun, but I was anything but fun. On top of the panic and the depression, I became very anxious. I worried about everything. I obsessed about everything. I would check the stove 10 times before I left my apartment, even though I never once turned it on. I was spiraling into a very dark place.
Although I was out of the house, my mom would check in on me most every day. After my worst bout of depression, she insisted I get some help. She could no longer be my psychiatrist, my psychologist and my counselor– it was too much and I needed more help than she could give.
I was diagnosed with clinical depression, anxiety, panic disorder and a few other things. I was started on medication immediately. And I waited to be cured. I thought it was like chemo for depression. Zap… a few months of this and I’d be all better. I thought this would fix it. I could be “normal” again. I never considered that this was going to be a lifelong battle, one that even to this day lurks in the corners of my consciousness, even on my very best days.
In fact, I got much worse after I had children. I was in and out of stability, crying out for no reason, screaming, begging, dying for help. I had a full breakdown in a restaurant with my mom and my toddler daughter. I tried so many times to stop taking medications–I was better, I could handle it, I was “happy”, I had everything I wanted. Right? Nope, its just not that easy. Learning to survive and THRIVE required my full attention. Medication has been a lifesaver, literally. It keeps me from rolling over in the morning and saying “not today…I cant do it today” and by “it” I mean to function, to get up and to have the energy (and strength) to survive the day.
I know that there is STILL such a stigma around mental health and even more judgment around taking medications for it. I feel it, have heard it and have even been told that medication is a crutch, that I should just do more (insert any and all opinions and therapies here). My yoga practice is as vital to me as any part of my treatment plan– it burns off the anxiety, gives me a place to shake off the darkness, a place that I can learn to trust that my strong body will support me. But, I still need medication. It’s just that simple.
Yes, I am depressed, yes, I suffer from anxiety, sometimes severe enough that I pass out, yes I take medication every day and yes…I am still LIVING my life. Somedays are better than others, I’ll admit, but when the darkness creeps in, I talk about it. I’m fortunate enough to have a huge support system. My husband has saved me more times than he even knows, just by being there, to listen.
Talking about it gives it light and helps me to share the load of it, not an easy task; it can be heavy for the support person and oftentimes downright exhausting. Sharing this part of me has been difficult, but if in my sharing, if one other person realizes that they are not alone and that its possible to live a hugely fulfilling life with all of these “things”, then my voice has been heard.
The face of depression can be deceiving. That person who seems to have it all together may be having a really bad day, maybe they are right at that moment anxious about three things at once and seem aloof or distant, maybe they were up all night worried about a sick child, maybe it took an act of God to get dressed and get their kids lunches made, or maybe they just want to understand how it feels to be carefree and spontaneous.
One of my favorite quotes is:
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.― Wendy Mass
It’s true…and you are not alone.