Depression

It’s Mental Health Awareness Month. While every month is Mental Health Awareness Month to me, I want my non-mental health-field friends to know a few things. Maybe I’ve mentioned these before — I can be quite loquacious at times and certainly in this blog — but I feel the need to repeat myself. I have a bad memory, too.

Depression is awful. You’re not just sad when you have depression; you lose the ability to care about and enjoy things you once loved doing. And that sucks. It’s like the whole world is black and white, and nothing makes you feel good at all. You can’t shower (in my experience) or do anything to improve your personal hygiene. Just thinking about taking a shower is too much work. You isolate. You don’t want to hang out with friends. You just want to be alone, and even though you feel the need to recharge, you don’t ever get recharged. You stay exhausted and lonely. You miss school or work. You get written up. Nobody understands. People think you’re being selfish or lazy – or the worst – people think you’re not being grateful as if that has anything to do with the neurons and chemicals in my brain. You lose your appetite or start to binge eat because your depression has triggered your eating disorder. Your sleep schedule gets messed up. The pain you feel is deep and you just want to drop to your knees and moan or scream. A guttural noise that expresses your misery.

That’s just a preview. And that’s just depression.

Anxiety sucks, too. Sometimes it’s worse than the depression. I think I wrote a blog about that, too. I also have a rare personality disorder, and as previously mentioned, an eating disorder. I can detail each condition, it’s just too much.

I don’t want to make this about me, though. I’m just one person experiencing depression and other mental health conditions when actually 1 in 5 U.S. adults will experience mental illness each year, but only half will receive the help they need. Now that sucks. And if that’s not bad enough, the average delay is 11 years between the onset of mental health symptoms and getting treatment. That’s insane. I say that, but it took me even longer.

1 in 20 U.S. adults experience serious mental illness each year — think Bipolar Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder (that’s me) and Schizophrenia. Not nearly enough will receive treatment either.

Something that’s eye-opening to me is that 1 in 6 youth experience a mental health disorder each year. And that 50% of all life-time mental illness begins by age 14 and 75% by age 24. This is exactly why we need to be talking about mental illness all the time. If we did, parents and teachers could better recognize warning signs of mental illness which could lead to early intervention, which could save a child/teen years of struggling.

I had my daughter evaluated for ADHD, which she did have, but the psychiatrist suggested she go to therapy first for self-esteem and anxiety issues. His exact words were “Let’s get her into therapy now so she’s not going to therapy her entire life.” I must’ve made a face because he quickly said unless you like going to therapy, lol. I don’t love therapy but I have been doing it most of my entire adult life. But I digress.

We have to start talking about this. There is nothing wrong with getting or asking for help. Because let me tell you this: suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death among children aged 10-14. Our children need to be able to talk to us about their feelings, and we need to listen without judgement. To be able to find them help. To advocate for them.

The time is now, friends.

Let’s talk.

I’m not in a greatish place. As you may know, the organization I volunteer for just had its big fundraiser, which I worked really, really hard on. A couple of nights leading up to the event, I missed a couple doses of my medication. It wasn’t on purpose. I was stressed.

So that has affected me a bit. And the event being over has affected me, too. I mean, I’m glad it’s over because it was stressful, but I’m going to miss working on it, too. This happened last year. I’ve been working on this for months, and it’s one of my favorite projects. I think that’s normal.

So that and missing the meds has definitely affected me. Plus, I’m a little overwhelmed today because I’ve had to get back to every day NAMI things that need to be dealt with. The grind never stops. And I’ve been reminded that I’m a volunteer. And that I only have to do one thing at a time. And to give myself grace. I know all this.

But I’m not myself right now. I’m depressed, stressed-out, missed-doses-of-medication, sleep-deprived Heather who doesn’t always remember that every single moment of the day. While I was waiting in the carpool line today, I was starting to panic about how badly I felt. Even though I missed just a couple of doses of meds, I can go zero to suicidal ideation in no time, and so I made an appointment for a ketamine infusion treatment for Wednesday. I started to think that maybe that wasn’t good enough. And as the panic increased, and I thought well, maybe I need an ECT, my phone buzzed. I looked down and realized tears had filled my eyes. And then I smiled down at my phone.

It was an affirmation. I get them sent to my phone/watch from an app every hour or so. This particular one said, “It’s ok to feel bad sometimes.”

I laughed at myself. I don’t need an ECT. I’m still going to keep the ketamine appointment as of this minute (because of the suicidal ideation), but of course, it’s ok to feel bad. IT’S OK TO FEEL BAD SOMETIMES!

It’s ok to feel sad about a fundraiser I put my heart and soul into. The event went well, and I think we reached a lot of people, but I still feel bad. I’m grateful for the event, and I’m grateful for everything that I have. I’ve made a gratitude list.

But I feel bad. I do. I feel like crap. And that’s ok. I’m smiling as I write this, but I feel bad.

I have a plan for some serious self-care this week. Maybe it’ll make me feel better.

If it doesn’t, guess what, that’s ok. Sitting with my feelings has never been my strong suit so I’ll stew a little, no too long, and then — when I’m ready — I’ll move on and feel better.

I’m actually feeling better just getting this out and feeling my feelings.

I’m always sick. I’m sick now (I’ve having annoying thyroid issues). I had the flu last month. I get migraines. I have depression and anxiety, not to mention a few other mental health conditions. I’m sicker than I am healthy. But you know what? It’s just part of my illness.

I’m still on that grind more than I’m not.

I thought I was okay and accepting that I was sick a lot, but then a friend made a snippy comment about me getting sick when I was offered to help her with something for a big event I help plan. It hurt my feelings. It’s true that a couple of weeks ago I had asked for help getting things off my plate because I was so sick with my thyroid, and I felt terrible and fatigue. But looking at the calendar, and knowing the event was coming up, I couldn’t really do that. So I had to keep on truckin’. I made the decision to take a little break after the event.

I really should brush the comment off because I know I’ve been working hard. I sold all the tables myself at the fundraiser, wrote all the questions and answer for the game show — you know what? I’m going to stop there because I don’t have to justify what I do or did. I work hard – it’s not debatable. And I’ve done it all while being sick. I shouldn’t have to say that either.

Really I shouldn’t even be writing this blog.

But it bothers me sooooooo much. I’m getting all upset now even though I had let it go. Sort of let it go.

I’m always there when it counts. If I’m really needed. I’m dependable when it matters.

I am sick all the time. That’s just me. Lately, on some days, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Others, I’m completely fine. I can’t predict whether sick Heather or on-the-grind Heather will wake up in the morning. But again, that’s okay. I know these two versions are really part of the whole me, and it’s my job to accept myself.

Through sickness and in health, lol.

My new therapist (my former one retired; I was with her for nine years) and I were talking about a comment someone had made to me, and she stopped me and said, “Wait, she said that to you. Why is that your deficit?” I had taken this comment (and others like it) to heart for years – there were multiple variations of it – and I had never thought about that. Why had I taken it so personally? Those words and ideas were not my own – just as the aforementioned comment is not my own – yet I’m ruminating and doubting myself when it’s really their bullshit that made them say it. They were hurting or being defensive or whatever and lashed out – I just happened to be there.

I know I’m sick a lot. And I’m okay with that (I say for the third time, lol). It’s not a flaw, if anything, it makes me more compassionate and understanding to others. It makes me appreciate and enjoy the times that I’m not sick. Some of my favorite times are being cuddled up in my heated blanket, resting with my husband next to me.

It’s not all bad.

And the good always outweighs the bad. What a good reminder from an unhappy place.

Recently I’ve lost a bit of weight. I’ve never been this thin, except as a child. And while I’m enjoying it and getting to wear smaller clothes and being more comfortable in my body, I still don’t feel thin enough. 

I still weigh myself when nobody’s looking. I still try to eat less so I can lose. 

And so I wonder — will it ever end?

I’m in the 150s. I look good. I feel good-ish but what happens when I get in the 140s? 

I’ll be 40 in February — do I just grow out of this? Probably not because I know friends in their 50s and 60s who still do this. 

I mean it’s gotten better. (Has is though?) I still don’t weigh myself in front of the kids, and when we’re eating in front of the kids, I eat healthy things. But they also see me eat candy all the time, and I’m sure they’ve picked up on my disorderly eating even though they’ve never seen me binge. Ugh, I’m such a mess. 

I’ve been stressed so much lately so I’ve been craving junk food, candy and comfort food big time. So it’s making me see-saw to the high 150s to the low. Then I stress away and eat light then get stressed again and eat like crap. I’ve had some stressful events at work, but it all worked out in a very awesome way. But more stuff is coming up and now it’s the holidays so I’m assuming I’ll be stressed out until January. Or until I’m dead, so I have to figure out some stress relief that actually works and works long term. 

I mean hello, I talk about self care all the time. I gotta walk the walk. 

I just wish it didn’t have such a hold on me. Why do I care so much if I “gain” two pounds one morning to the next. I know it’s probably not even a real gain, and you’re not supposed to weigh yourself everyday. I know, I know, I know. But I don’t. So then I lift up my shirt and analyze how much my stomach is sticking out. How well my jeans are fitting. If one metric fails me, there’s always another. And another. 

This is torture. 

Will it ever end? 

Will I ever let it?