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Heather Loeb

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The Camera Adds 10 Pounds

by Heather Loeb

This weekend I’ve eagerly awaited the arrival of our annual family photos. This year we opted to do them inside our new home, so I’ve been dying to see how they turn out.

I’ve also been dreading the new photos. It’s no secret that I’ve gained almost 20 pounds since the onset of the pandemic, but that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to see, especially in our family photos.

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I know it’s been hard on everyone, and a lot of people have gained weight. I know that I should love myself no matter what. I hear others say that I’m beautiful no matter what, but my anxiety and eating disorders speak louder. They always have.

Because we just moved in, a couple of our bathrooms don’t have mirrors hung yet. At first it was annoying but now I’m relieved I don’t have to look in the mirror. It doesn’t matter how much positive self talk I spew — I just don’t like what I see. My weight is tied to my confidence, and sadly, my self worth. Right now, it feels like I’m worth nothing.

The family photos will just confirm what I’ve already been telling myself: I’m ugly, fat and unworthy.

Except, here’s the thing — my daughter is watching. And listening. If I admit these truths aloud, she will for sure hear them. And my voice will become her inner voice. My actions will becomes hers as well, and I’ll be damned if she cultivates this ugly self-hate that’s just rotting my worth and self-esteem.

I’ve talked about this before, many times. I have to change the way I talk to myself, treat myself. I’m raising kids, but really my goal— and what all our goals should be — is to raise healthy adults. I don’t know much about that, but I have my missteps to guide me.

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The first thing I’m going to do is post the family photos — no matter what they look like. I’ll frame a couple in my house, not just because I’m trying to set a good example, but because damn, that’s what I look like now. This is what my family looks like after nine months of a deadly pandemic. We have survived, and even if I survived in a way that led to tighter clothes and an expanding waistline, I’ve survived. And that’s all that matters.

I want to thank Jennifer Stewart for capturing out family in our new loving home. I want to thank my body for supporting me during this time. I want to say that I do love myself and I’ll try harder to love it no matter my size. They say the camera adds 10 pounds, but maybe it’s time I stopped buying into that.

That I stop buying into diet culture and equating being then to being happy. I need to be happy now, instead of waiting until I’m a certain weight. Fuck that.

I’m going to be happy now, because both my daughter and son are watching. And that’s OK that they’re watching — it’s OK that they see me struggle, and even when I’m sad, but they’ll also see the fight in me, the determination and my grit. I’m all for them seeing me as human, because I am — just a perfectly imperfect human. That’s all we can be.

Edit: Our family photos were not available at the time of publication. I will add them in once I receive them.

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Painting Memories

by Heather Loeb

We just moved into our dream house about a week and a half ago, a year after the contractor said it would be ready. We started packing more than a year ago, so honestly I had forgotten the contents of many, many boxes.

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Once we started opening boxes in our new home, I found a box of ceramic figures our family painted at the mall. There was this cute store where you could pick out a figurine then paint it, and the kids loved it. We would have to go to that store every time we went to the mall, which was a lot.

I loved going myself, too. Painting the little figurines was calming and it was a great way to spend time as a family outside the house. Last year, when we started packing some non-essential items, my housekeeper started to pack those and I had forgotten just how many we had. I opened box after box after box of ceramics, colorfully and messily painted by my kids (and a few David and I had done). It made me smile, and I was quick to include them as decor in my sunroom. My husband didn’t want them in the Great Room (he’s more formal than I), so I placed a few here and there, just as a reminder of my kids’ whimsy.

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I’m so glad I did, because I recently learned that the store, Paint It, had closed. Another victim of COVID-19. When I found out, I was crushed — I’d never see my kids concentrating so hard, with their tongues stuck out, painting a princess or some type of vehicle. Another place could open up, sure, but I’ve so missed seeing them channel their artistic ability and proudly give it to me, a cherished token.

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So many things have changed because of the virus, and I’m so mad that it has affected my kids’ childhood so much. I know I shouldn’t worry — kids are far more resilient than adults — but I do worry and fret over the changes and obstacles we’ve faced this year. The closing of that beloved store is just a reminder that we’re still in the thick of it, and there will be long term affects of this pandemic. We’ve lost so many people and so much time with family and friends — when does it end?

It may sound silly to be waxing poetic about some ceramic figures, but they were a part of my children’s childhood. We weren’t just painting figurines, we were painting memories, and I will forever have a place for them in my home.

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A Great Miracle Happened There

by Heather Loeb

So tonight is the sixth night of Hanukkah, and because my family is Jewish, I feel the need to talk about miracles. That’s what Hanukkah is all about, celebrating miracles, and I have a lot to celebrate. They may not seem like grand miracles to others, but it doesn’t really matter what other people think, right?

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First, and most important, is that my family has stayed healthy and safe this year, which I’m so grateful for. 

It’s also a great feat that I haven’t had a “breakdown.” I’ve stayed strong this year, despite the pitfalls and obstacles this dreadful year has created. It wasn’t easy for me — or anyone — to have two young kids at home for three months. It was really hard not going to therapy for awhile. Hell, it’s been hard for me not to go anywhere at all. I know that I’m not alone in this;  every one of my nerves has been frayed. Every limitation has been reached, and I’ll be honest, I have a lot of limitations. I have to rest more, take breaks. I have to practice self care every day and get a lot of sleep. I have to verbalize when I’m struggling, so I can get the help I need. I have fought my depression and I’ve fought suicidal thoughts. I fight my own brain on a daily basis. It’s exhausting and my depression is relentless. 

I have to constantly monitor it so I can prevent a depressive episode. It’s annoying and even though I know what to do to make myself feel better, my brain tells me not to take care of myself. 

It’s also hard when you have to prioritize your health over others, especially your children. As a mom you want to make sure your kids have everything they need and I don’t mean this in a bad way, but they suck the life out of you. So much of me goes to them and there’s not much left for me. 

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It’s a balancing act and it’s tricky as hell. It’s one that I haven’t mastered, even six years in as a mom. 

I’ve lost my cool and expelled many a curse word. But I’ve survived. My children have survived. I haven’t done much else this year but survive and that’s OK. Yes, I’ve gained 20 pounds and I probably have gray hairs sprouting — also OK. Obviously, I’m utilizing some not-so-helpful coping skills but damn, I’m coping and that’s what counts. In my book, anyway.

So, surviving is my miracle. Avoiding a depressive episode is my miracle. Keeping my children and husband happy and healthy is my miracle. 

As I light the Hanukkah candles tonight I will remember my miracles, God’s miracles. 

There is great divinity in finding light when it is dark. 

Happy Hanukkah, my friends. 

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Me getting ready for family pictures.

This past week I have done nothing but unpack boxes in the new house. We’ve gotten a lot accomplished for having just been here a week. And I truly love it. Everything in this house makes me happy, and I’m so glad we decided to build.

The kids are getting more used to their new rooms and they’re sleeping through the night again, without much interruption.

I still have some work to do on the playroom, but for the most part, everything’s done. My sun room is the most beautiful room in the house — it’s where I’ll do all my writing and reading. We had a photographer here earlier doing our annual family photos and she took some of me in the sun room because she loved it so much. I can’t wait to get those pictures back.

There’s not much else to tell. I did get some bad news this weekend, but all I can do is take it in stride and keep going. If I think too much about it, I just get sad. But oh well, there are good things to concentrate on.

I hope y’all have a wonderful week. Stay in the light!

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Same Shit, Different Day

by Heather Loeb

I watch the same TV shows over and over.

I listen to music from 30 years ago.

I eat the same things every week, without much deviation.

And that’s OK with me. Others, I know, need variation and to experience new things, but new things just throw me for a loop. I blame my oppressive anxiety — it’s just so comforting rewatching my favorite shows rereading my favorite books. There are no surprises lurking, waiting to send me into a panic attack or obsessive thinking. I actually hate surprises, which drives my husband crazy because he loves trying to surprise me.

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But I love order, safety and comfort. It’s not boring to me. It’s home. It’s away to control my intrusive and obsessive thoughts. It’s emotional and mental control, and again, I’m OK with that.

Last weekend we moved into our new house. Don’t get me wrong — I was looking forward to it, but I soon discovered that everything was different. I didn’t know how to work the kids’ bathtub nozzles (they had two different ones) and I couldn’t figure out which light switches worked what. I think that’s normal, but it was especially frustrating for me.

It’s like that with almost every new experience, especially meeting new people. I definitely hate that, but experiencing new things are essential to live, lol. And I must do them, even if I don’t like it. I try and remember that when my children are confronted with new things — it sucks, but they have to do it. Our survival depends on it.

As much as I love my routine and structure, there’s something to be said for trying a new meal (and liking it!), reading a new book and watching a new movie. That’s how things become your favorite, but you have to try.

I’ll continue to listen to music from 30 years ago — I have a new speaker system on which to play it. I’ll likely be watching Friends when I get some alone time. And don’t think I won’t be rereading my favorite books: Summer Sisters, She’s Come Undone and The Red Tent.

And that’s OK, because I’ll be trying new things, too. It’s all a fine balance.

Stay in the light.

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Why Me?

by Heather Loeb

Yesterday was a hard day. I was sad, overwhelmed and irritable. Everything seemed so unbelievably hard, from getting the kids to school, doing chores around the new house, putting the kids to bed and even breathing, it seemed. We moved into our new house last week, and I’m so grateful, but still it’s hard. And it’s hard for others to understand when I have so much going for me — and I do

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I kept thinking, “Is it always going to be so hard?” In terms of my depression, I’m on medications that work, I’m doing therapy and I’m still doing ECTs. I don’t understand why I still have days where I’m so sad and feel so worthless. I’m fatigued to the point where it feels like my bones are tired. I guess everybody has bad days, but when I experience a bad day often have intrusive thoughts, some thoughts telling me I should die. I try to fight them off — I don’t want to die, but I fear that one day I might given into those thoughts. Too many bad days could be dangerous for me.

I’m not trying to harp on my diagnoses, but I’m struggling with Major Depressive Disorder, Dysthymia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Avoidant Personality Disorder and Binge Eating Disorder. It’s a lot to deal with to say the least. When I feel blue, like I am know, it’s overwhelming to think about. How on Earth do I have so many things wrong with me? Because of all my inflictions, any changes to my routine — or life in general — can cause me to fall into a depressive episode, wherein I’m typically rendered useless. I have to live within rigid constraints so my stupid brain doesn’t go haywire. And adhering to such unforgiving boundaries, even ones that benefit me, is difficult and overwhelming.

It’s a lot of damn work to keep me alive and kicking, and while I am appreciative of being alive and kicking, it doesn’t mean I don’t get discouraged every once in a while. Sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to have a bad day — that at the mention of being sad or anything related, people jump to the conclusion that I need more meds or ECTs. I understand to an extent — my loved ones don’t want me to be suicidal and in inpatient care again.

Normally, I tend to think that depression is supposed to happen to people like me. I guess what I mean is that I can take it. I can get through it, and I have a platform where I can (hopefully) help others with their mental disorders.

But it’s still very hard not to think, “Why me? Why the fuck me??”

I’ll get over this mood. I’ll get more sleep, practice self care, re-evaluate what’s not working, and I’ll be back in the sunshine. But it’s perfectly normal to have a bad day and wallow a bit. My feelings, even anger and frustration, are valid.

And so are yours.

Stay in the light, friends.

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I’ve been so busy these past couple weeks getting ready to move and this weekend we finally did! It’s been two years since we bought the lot and started building, and there have been some major setbacks but it’s so worth it. The house is amazing. I love it so much and am so grateful.

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I don’t have my computer set up yet but I hope to have it ready to go tomorrow or later this week.

That’s all for now. I’m just so happy, I can’t stand it.

Talk to y’all soon. Stay in the light.

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The Fatigue Is Real

by Heather Loeb

One thing I hate being called is lazy. It’s never nice to hear that from anyone, but because of my chronic fatigue from depression, it stings even more.

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I don’t think everyone knows just how bad the fatigue can be. Sometimes, when I’m deep in a depressive episode, I start to feel fatigued the minute I wake up. My body hurts — yes, depression can cause physical pain — and getting the kids ready for school seems like it’s an impossible task.

All my energy goes to getting them to school and when I get back home, I yearn to go to sleep again. So, I do.

When I wake up (again), my limbs are 50 pounds each. Thankfully, my housekeeper comes Monday through Friday, and she’s very understanding and not at all judgmental.

I do what I can while the kids are at school, and if anybody asks I always say I’ve had a busy day. I don’t like feeling the shame that comes along with depression. I can never shake it, though. I’ll even go to great lengths to be busy or appear to be busy, even if it runs me into the ground. I guess I’d rather be rundown than be called lazy. It’s stupid, but sometimes I feel like I don’t contribute — to society or to my family.

I’m so embarrassed of my limitations, but I shouldn’t be. It’s OK that I need to rest. It’s OK to rely on my housekeeper. It’s OK that I don’t work (outside the home).

I stay at home for my kids, sure. But I also stay at home because I don’t feel like I could keep a job now that my depression is as severe as it is. When I did work, I was constantly calling in and it created tension with my coworkers. I felt guilty and ashamed, which led to more downward spirals and more missed work.

Honestly, maintaining my depression and anxiety is a full-time job, and there’s no room to slack off without serious repercussions. Even if I do let up for just one day I could be enter a depressive episode and become suicidal.

I should be proud of my work to stay healthy. And I am, but it’s hard for others to understand how hard I’m working just to be OK, so I don’t share. That’s the thing about invisible illnesses, people just don’t get it, especially older generations. That and the stigma of depression make me stifle my triumphs when really I should be celebrating.

I need to let go of the shame. I’m going to remember that I’m taking care of myself not just for me but my kids and husband. They only benefit from me being healthy and happy. And when being happy and healthy becomes a consistent thing, a few days here and there where I can’t get out of bed aren’t going to be a big deal.

My family, my kids especially, will see me take care of myself and learn how to prioritize their own mental health. There’s great merit in that; my generation (Millennials) definitely wasn’t taught that. But we’re talking about it now. Millennials actually have higher rates of depression than any other generation. Read about that here.

Now that I think about it, there isn’t anything lazy about me — I grind harder than most, even if I do need a nap here and there.

If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

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This is going to be short and sweet. This week we’re moving into our new house, so I probably won’t be posting much.

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I’ve been packing and organizing all weekend long, and I’m not even halfway finished. I’m not looking forward to this week but I am dying to be in the new house, so it’ll be worth it.

Last week, my mental health series ended in the local paper but I’ve got some more articles being published later this month.

I hope you all are doing well and getting in the holiday spirit. Y’all have a good week!

Stay in the light.

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I’ve been battling major depression and anxiety for decades now. Only recently (the past two years or so) have I talked about it with my family and friends. Creating my blog was a huge step in accepting my fate that I’ll be dealing with this for a lifetime and saying, “Screw you!” to the stigma that surrounds mental disorders.

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It hasn’t been easy, especially talking about my suicidal ideation that I still struggle with today. But I have learned a lot.

Here are some lessons having major depression, anxiety and a personality disorder have taught me:

  1. Being forthcoming about my illness makes some people uncomfortable – I don’t really understand this fully, but I make people feel uncomfortable when I talk about depression, anxiety, etc. so openly. This is especially true if I talk about suicide, which I can kind of understand…maybe. But I’ve been asked more than once if I could write about something other than suicide. The problem with that is that suicide is shrouded in stigma and that’s why people don’t talk about it to begin with. By shining light on the subject, it helps people come forward when they’re having suicidal thoughts and it could save lives. Literally. And it’s no different with depression and other mental disorders — the more we normalize it, the more people will feel like they can seek help. There’s no need to struggle in silence. It can do some real damage if you do.
  2. I’m stronger than I think – I want to acknowledge that I have an incredibly strong support system, and I’m very grateful for that. But when you’re in the midst of a depressive episode and suicidal, it feels like it’s only you. In my case, I fight with my brain, trying to determine if it’s lying to me, because it often does. It tells me I’m useless, I should die, nobody loves me, etc. And when it’s your own brain saying these things, how do you not believe it? But even in my darkest moments, I somehow find a reserve of strength. I do stand up to those ugly thoughts and prove them wrong. I do let light in. I fight, tooth and nail.
  3. Humility – I’m not going to lie, depression humbles you. It can make you incapable of taking care of yourself, and sometimes it’s just embarrassing. For me, it’s hard to brush my teeth and take a shower. I’ve gone at least a week without doing those seemingly easy chores. And it’s hard to not be able to do the simplest of personal hygiene chores. I mean, I can’t stay indoors all day, everyday. I have to take the kids to school and run errands. So, when I am able to shower and brush my teeth, I appreciate it to the fullest.
  4. You are your best advocate – Nobody can fight for you the way you can, meaning you know what your needs are and what’s best, even if your illness debilitates you. Stand up for yourself, express your needs clearly to doctors/therapists and always ask questions. Make sure you find a doctor who listens. Feel validated in your emotions. You’ve go this.
  5. Compassion – Dealing with depression definitely has helped me be more compassionate toward others, because I truly know what suffering is, whether it’s physical or mental. If you’re struggling with depression, you see first hand that it’s like any other disease — you can’t control it and there’s no cure. The problem is that depression is an invisible disease and others won’t always understand. But you will. Remember to be compassionate to others and to yourself.

If you have any lessons you’ve learned from depression, drop them in the comments. And as always, stay in the light.

This is the last blog I’ll write before Thanksgiving. I hope you all have a great holiday and take care.

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