Heather Loeb

I hate it when things are going so well, then a little bit of depression sneaks in, brings anxiety with it and next thing you know they’re having a party.

I know the drill. This is just temporary. A few days will go by, and I’ll go back to being happy Heather. Grateful Heather. Helpful Heather.

But today the cat peed on my rug, I spent more money than I should’ve, I actually binged at dinner (which I haven’t truly done in months and months), I’m uncomfortable now, thirsty as hell, I’m moody and emotional, I tried to paint but kept screwing up because I was forcing it, couldn’t focus at work. I’m irritable, canceled my lash appointment because Eli had a doctor’s appointment and couldn’t get another appointment. My lashes need serious help. All of it sucked. First world problems, man.

It’s all temporary. The bad always is. I know it is.

As the kids were playing outside with the neighbors, I went out there and checked out the flowers that were blooming. It was so nice out there, and it reminded me that there are bigger things than lash appointments and cat pee. Such as, I get to give a really cool presentation about stress management tomorrow (maybe I can give myself some tips), that I’ve reserved Friday for some self-care appointments and lunch with a dear friend. That I’ve gotten some really important work done this week, despite having a terrible migraine that set me back several hours. That a good friend texted me and told me because of my transparency in my mental health journey, she was able to get back on her meds and the quality of her life is now better. I happen to be very low when I got that text, and she turned around my whole day. I’m glad our paths have crossed, too, friend.

It’s so easy to let the bad win. And sometimes, it’s okay to let it win, too. You just have to be careful.

I know the depression and anxiety is going to be around for a bit. I’m certainly not inviting it to stay, but I know my assignment: stay grateful, look for the little glimmers, practice self-care, rest and ask for help.

I thank you for your support and positivity. I know that once this is posted, I will receive support and encouragement, even from internet strangers, and to me, that is amazing because there are some people who will call themselves a friend only sticking around hoping to see you fall.

But I’m lucky, I have the most loving, supportive husband, family and friends in the world.

And I always rise from the ashes.

Here goes tomorrow.

This is a belated International Women’s Day post that I should’ve done last weekend, but better late than never. So last Saturday there were tons of Facebook posts, emails and texts about the International Women’s Day. One text I received was from a jewelry retailer that was selling bracelets with different words, such as “Strength.” I clicked on the link to look at it and started wondering whether I could even wear that bracelet. Was I a strong woman? What do I even do that shows strength? My brow was furrowed so I texted one of my besties and asked whether she thought I was a strong woman.

She replied quickly, “Duh.”

Then typed, “You’ve hit rock bottom and now you are a pillar of the community. You’ve looked shame and fear in the face and now you help others do the same through your transparency in your journey.”

Then, “You are a bad bitch.”

Wow, I thought. She makes me sound good.

How could I have forgotten that I had a mental breakdown and have been hospitalized twice – the final time for 6 whole weeks? Six weeks away from my babies and husband. Six weeks away from my phone, social media, friends and my cats. And then withdrawal from my meds as my team of doctors changed everything I was taking. I did intensive individual therapy and family therapy with my husband who told me how he really felt about the situation, and it was damn difficult to hear. I had to take accountability for my actions, and that was even harder. I blamed everything on my depression, anxiety and suicidal ideation (which played a role) but didn’t want to accept that I was an active participant in my undoing.

And then came the electroconvulsive therapy or ECTs where the docs put electrodes on my forehead to induce a seizure while I was under anesthesia. It’s not as insane as it’s sounds. They’d give me a muscle relaxer so I wouldn’t violently shake, and the seizures would typically be under 1 min and 20 seconds. The shorter the seizure, the better the outcome. They don’t know exactly why ECTs work, but it’s just a reset of your brain. I underwent about 12-15 at the Menninger Clinic and about 15 more in San Antonio once I was home. It was not easy for me. I developed a phobia of anesthesia during one session because it took longer for it to work, and I started to panic, thinking I was going to be awake. After that I would panic and fight the anesthesia and the doctors would have to hold my hands or get David in there to calm me down. But I did it. Thirty times. That took strength.

All of it took strength. When I returned home, it was difficult because I wasn’t in a quiet, controlled environment — I was in a house with a 2-year-old and 4-year-old who screamed and cried, and sometimes the coping skills I learned didn’t work or I didn’t have time to employ them.

Because I was gone for so long, I decided to tell my friends the truth about being in a psych hospital. And I wrote about it in my blog that I started a year before about eradicating stigma and being transparent about my mental health journey. I even wrote about it in forum pieces for the local newspaper. I figured that if I share my “deepest, darkest secret,” then nobody has shit on me. And I was proud of my journey.

And it just got better and better. NAMI Greater Corpus Christi found me, and my quality of life improved greatly. They taught me about mental health recovery, and I became the Communications Coordinator, creating the monthly newsletters, doing social media, and among other things. I also was able to put together the first-ever Celebrity Jeopardy fundraiser, which raised about $20k in its first year. I thrived, and honestly I can say that these years after the psych hospital have been the best of my life.

I learned resilience and that you can’t just take a medication and expect it to do all that work. You have to do the work and walk that line of going to therapy, being compliant with your wellness plan, take your meds, practicing self-care, etc. It takes discipline, and that takes strength.

And somehow I briefly forgot all this last weekend.

Strength comes in many forms, and all the women I know are strong and tough as hell. My point is don’t discount your journey, no matter what it is. And don’t let anyone ever undermine it.

“A woman is like a tea bag — you never know how strong she is until you put her in hot water.”

Unfortunately, we’ve had nothing but hot water these past couple of years, and I see everyone’s strength and determination.

I see you.

All this over a bracelet. And it wasn’t even that cute.

I so miss the holidays. I miss wrapping gifts, and I REALLY miss opening them, lol. So much so, I’ve been ordering way too much on Amazon, I think, just to get that high when you open a present. This is not sustainable. And my husband is not happy.

I know I can still drink hot chocolate and put fuzzy socks on, but it’s not the same. And people look at your funny when you sing Christmas songs now. I think a lot of people have this problem when January hits. This month feels so drab and cold.

But you know what? We have to make like Elsa, and LET IT GO. Including me.

It’s a brand new year! There’s so many amazing things coming up — it’s supposed to be exciting! And it is, now that I think about it. I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions, but I do make personal and professional goals, and it’s going to be fun and challenging to meet them. I’m going to get uncomfortable this year, but that only means I’m going to grow.

I want NAMI GCC to have its best year yet — with fundraising, with its future as an affiliate and growth in leadership. I want everyone there to have so much fun while also serving each person who walks through the door to the best of our ability, with the quality of their life truly improved. We have new presentations, a new volunteer coordinator and opportunities available to us that are ours for the taking. I love this organization so much, and I will work so hard to get to where it needs to be. NAMI saved my life, and I will never forget it. The NAM Fam is just that — my family.

I, too, want to have my best year yet. But just weeks ago I was super depressed, barely moving off the couch and not showering. I felt so sad, like everything was in slow motion and that I’d never be happy again. Now I feel strong and energized. While there are things up in the air, I feel confidence that I can handle any situation that may arise. I am exactly where I need to be. Where I hope God wants me to be. I don’t feel depressed or anxious right now at all.

It’s been so fun hanging out with my kids during the holiday break, and that’s one thing I’ll really miss, but lately, I’ve been hanging out with each of them separately, and we’ve found special things to do. We can continue that after school. I’m ready for more of that. And watching tennis lessons, selling Girl Scout cookies, helping build Lego sets and so much more. It’s time to plan Spring Break now, too, so that’ll be fun.

David doesn’t get a paragraph because I’m ALWAYS excited about him. He is my heart.

I guess I don’t really need hot chocolate and fuzzy socks. Actually, it’s pretty cold right now so I’ll keep the socks around for awhile. But I’m kind of sick of the hot chocolate. A Diet Coke is good enough for me anytime.

Now I’m excited. The kids go back to school tomorrow, so I can get some work done. My home office is clean and newly organized, which makes me want to work more. I’m actually happy about waking up at 4 a.m. to get my day started this week.

I’m ready. My eyes are on 2025. Look out.

This year (personally) has not been great, but that’s okay. Sometimes when things are difficult, you learn and grow more. Sometimes.

2024 has reminded me that my depression is never far away. It shocked my a few months ago — I think I was in disbelief for weeks before I was going through another depressive episode, the first since I left the psych hospital. I did what I knew to do. I asked for help. I did self-care. I tried to heal.

I couldn’t help but think this episode was my fault somehow. My head grew too big, maybe. At times I felt like this kickass mental health hero who had a column in the newspaper, a blog and who was the leader of a reputable mental health nonprofit. I must’ve felt invincible. Too good to get depression again.

But I did. I was brought down a few notches.

The depressive episode wasn’t long at all, but it took me awhile to realize it was over. For weeks I was holed up in my media room, sometimes resting, most of the time still working on NAMI GCC stuff. Everyone kept telling to rest before the big NAMI Texas conference in El Paso, so that’s what I did. I was worried about the conference. I even emailed the ED of NAMI Texas and told him that I was going through an episode, and I didn’t know how much I would be able to do.

But when I got there, I did everything. I was walking to and fro, attending sessions and hanging out with the NAMI GCC crew. I realized then, the episode had been over. I was high functioning, and honestly, I wouldn’t have known it because I probably wouldn’t have left the movie room for another few weeks.

I was coddling myself, I guess. I think — no, I know — I’m stronger than I was in 2019 when I had my first mental break, so I didn’t need what I needed back then. Thankfully, now I have an amazing support system that not only supports me but also pushes me a bit when they already know I’m coddling myself and need to get the hell out of the movie room (don’t you hate it when your spouse is right?)

After this experience, I remember gratitude every single day. I remember that scared girl in the hospital. The fire I had to walk through. The burning. I remember it all, and I won’t forget again. I hope 2025 will be better, that I continue to practice gratitude and remember my place — in NAMI and in this world. All I ever wanted to do since 2018 (when I started this blog) was help people with their mental health journey because I had no one, and it was lonely and terrifying. I know at NAMI GCC I’m doing good in this community, but I want to do more. My focus can be so split, but I want to remember my real purpose. My experience and “talent” mean nothing if I don’t apply what I know to someone I can help.

Let 2025 be about growth and flourishing.

I am ready.

I wrote a column the other day about asking for help and how amazing it was because I actually received it and fast! I should’ve guessed that was going to an amazing experience, but I rarely ask for help so it surprised me a bit. I guess I still had it in my head that only weak people ask for help, which is 100% WRONG.

There is nothing weak about having mental illness, asking for help, going inpatient, doing electroconvulsive therapy, going in “low-battery mode,” and/or anything else you need to do if you’re struggling or just living with a mental health condition.

It’s difficult to be mentally ill. There’s not a day that goes by that I’m not thinking about something I need to do in order to be healthy — take my meds correctly, sleep well, eat a healthy diet, get enough sleep, go to therapy, etc. It’s exhausting sometimes, especially when a depressive episode comes out of nowhere and turns everything upside down, which is what has happened to me these past few weeks. You don’t have time to be weak when that happens. Nope, you call your doctor, therapist and PCP. Your try new medicine, schedule ketamine therapy, whatever your doc suggests you do. You have to be adaptable. Is that right word? You have to be flexible. There’s not a lot of time for me to mourn this episode, even though that’s what I want to do.

We’ll I guess I’ve mourned quite a bit, but that’s okay, too. I don’t need to be strong, but that’s the emotion that comes out first, allowing me to get through some of these complicated emotions. And being weak? Like I said, there’s nothing weak about any of this. That’s stigma and misconception that the mentally ill are weak. But after 30 ECTs, I can assure you I’m not weak.

Actually, why do people feel a need to comment on those with a mental health condition anyway? I’m not sure why we need to have a debate about whether we’re weak or strong? But it seems like we do. It even feels like I’m working really hard to convince your — or myself — that I’m strong. So maybe we should ditch those adjectives.

I have mental health conditions, and I’m struggling with major depressive disorder right now. All that I can do is make healthy choices and follow my psychiatrist’s orders. I’ve been here before, and I know I will get better. I can do this.

Because I’m a fighter, and I have a hell of a lot to fight for.

I had a follow-up with my psych this morning so she could see how I was doing on that new depression med. We decided to go forward with a bigger dose, and my doc wants me to try ketamine now, too, because it doesn’t sound like I’m improving as fast as she’d like. As I’d like. That’s fine by me, I’ve had ketamine before, and it has helped. I think the new pill is working, too. It just takes a while. It always does, but I have time, too.

After we hung up I decided to write down a gratitude list, and oh man, there are so many things I’m grateful for. My life is amazing, and I have far more to be happy about than sad. I know that’s not how depression works, but it’s nice remembering all the good in my life. And for once, instead of expecting more depression and crummy days, I started to think about my comeback. It’s there. I can feel it. It may not be anytime soon, but it’s there.

And I’m reminded why I got my huge Phoenix bird tatted on my back.

“Some nights the wolf inside me shrinks to nothing, she bares her teeth and runs away. The dragon in my chest rejects me, she’s so tired of being slain. There are nights when the lioness cowers, says she can’t fight it another day…”
“What about the phoenix?”
“She sits with me in the darkness. She whispers ‘we’ll rise. Just you wait.’”

I will rise. I’ve done it before, and my life was more amazing than I ever thought it could be.

I feel like I have something to learn this time that I didn’t or couldn’t learn last time, but I’ll get there.

I hear the phoenix whisper, “just you wait.”

So I will.

It seemed like it happened so fast, but looking back I see the signs that a depressive episode was coming — the irritability, naps during the day and more sleep on the weekend, I would snap at the kids more and I craved more alone time (isolating). And then the fatigue set in, and I felt the depression crushing me. I couldn’t take showers as much. I had to rely more on David to help me with my normal chores, which I hate doing.

I happened to have an appointment with my psychiatrist when this was all going on, so I enumerated all these problems, but at that time, I didn’t feel like I was in trouble. But a couple of days later, I became frantic and texted her that I needed help right away. We talked that day about different medications that could help, picking one that is used off label for depression and is less likely to give me tardive dyskinesia. It’s actually a medication used for Parkinson’s and restless leg syndrome but my doc has seen success with it in patients who have treatment resistant depression — that’s me, of course.

So because of this depressive episode, I have had to cancel work presentations and meetings and then social outings of my own. I’ve always had social anxiety, so those have always been a challenge, but you add depression and anxiety on top, and it’s near impossible. I actually had to take a couple weeks of from NAMI GCC, even though I LOVE LOVE LOVE what I do. I just have to focus on me right now.

The person who had taken this very personally is my daughter. One morning, after no sleep, I told her I couldn’t bring her lunch to her on the special day it was allowed. I had brought it to her the previous week, though. She got pissed and said I was “using my depression as an excuse for everything.” That really pissed me off. Then she got mad when I didn’t have the energy to volunteer at a Girl Scouts’ meeting. I get that it’s disappointing, I really do. But I had an in-depth conversation with her about what depression is, how it makes me feel, what I can and can’t do, etc. Still she’s only 10 and can’t understand completely. It still hurts my feelings so much. I can do 1,000 things right, but she’ll find the 1 or 2 things I do wrong and harp on them for days, even weeks. It certainly doesn’t help my mood. But again, I know she can’t fully comprehend what I’m going through — not just that, but she’s also dealing with the fact I told her I have depression. That’s hard to take in. She’s realizing I’m different than other moms (even though nothing has changed in me since I told her). Still, her mother just dropped a bomb on her.

It feels like someone dropped one on me, too. I have to tell you that I was not prepared for this at all. There were no triggers or changes in my life that spurred this episode. That’s the scariest part — that there was no real warning. I was doing just fine, being my happy self, living my normal life, which I love, when lightning struck out of nowhere. And with such intensity. I know what to do when this happens — I have a wellness plan, I’ve been to support groups where we’ve discussed what to do in crisis, I’ve memorized things to do. But, when it came time, I thought about the first steps in my head and thought, “that’s impossible,” and I continued to lie down. I isolated. I either didn’t eat at all or I ate too much junk. I tried to nap all day until I had to pick the kids up. I stopped showering. I didn’t put on “real clothes,” just sweats and workout garb. Emails were ignored. I canceled all my appointments because I didn’t want to leave the house or because my hair was dirty from now showering.

Again, what’s scary is that it did not take long for me to get to this place.

Finally I started telling my family and friends what was going on. I was honest; I told them the truth instead of blaming migraines or whatever illness I used to blame it on. I admitted it to the Girl Scouts leaders and moms because I needed someone to fill in for me as a volunteer. It was so freeing. I wasn’t doing it for sympathy; I just needed to tell them hey this is what’s going on. Sometimes severe depression can do this. I’m not afraid of asking for help because of my depression. And hopefully me normalizing it will help others do the same.

I do really appreciate others reaching out to me and supporting me. I made a post on Facebook, and the support I got there was amazing. Everyone had something inspiring and comforting to say. Someone mentioned that my village was with me, and that meant so much to me. It brought tears to my eyes, and reminded me that yes, I can do this. I’m starting my medication today, that’s one day closer to a happier me.

Thank you, everybody. We got this.

I always assumed my mental illness was going to be the death of me, but nope, here I am wishing I had some high-powered edibles, an ECT that would somehow make me forget the next few years or some kind of non-serious illness that would require lots of bed rest and very little stress so I wouldn’t have to face the hormones that taken over my beautiful, kind daughter and replaced her with that vicious sand worm from Beetlejuice.

I was just bragging on her the other day, detailing how good therapy has been for her and that I have seen real positive change. That all the extra time we’ve been hanging out has helped with her positive demeanor and confidence. I could see real change.

Then today I ask her about a couple of math grades, letting her know that I’m here if she feelings like she’s struggling. She’s in 4th grade but is in an accelerated math class so is doing 5th grade math. I told her I don’t care about her math grades much, I just want her happy and healthy, and we can get her help with math if she needs it.

The next thing I know she has locked herself in the bathroom, yelling about the time I told her she was adopted (in jest. To be fair, she asked me like 10 times if she was and finally I said yes). She knew I was joking. Then she brought up another comment I made. And another. Suddenly she’s got an elephant’s memory. Each of these memories we were both teasing each other, but only now she was hurt, even though I had apologized 1,000 times before.

I told her I loved her but we couldn’t do the cool mom/best friend thing if she was going to take me too seriously. How many times was she going to punish me for something I said? When she started the teasing in the first place? From now on, I said, it’s strictly a mother/daughter relationship and we needed to respect those boundaries in order not to hurt each other.

The next thing I know she’s in her room howling and sobbing hysterically. At this point, David doesn’t let me get near her again. That’s not the reaction I was looking for — I’m just tired of joking then apologizing for that joke multiple times, never really being forgiven. Neither of us is mature enough to be in a mom/daughter best friend deal. And that’s fine. We can work on our mother/daughter relationship, making it stronger and defining it how we want it to be.

Not right now though, because that hormonal sand worm thing ain’t a joke.

This really makes me scared for when puberty hits.