Depression

Last month marked six years since I went to the Menninger Clinic in Houston for suicidal ideation, cutting myself, abusing my meds, seeking out opioids, binge eating disorder, compulsively shopping and more. I was in big trouble. Everything hurts. I couldn’t take care of the kids. My husband was taking care of everything, and he was at a breaking point as well. None of the treatments we had tried for my depression had worked; I had been deemed treatment-resistant and I was beyond hopeless. My friend mentioned going inpatient at a psychiatric facility, and after reading about the Hope Unit at the Menninger Clinic, I was sold. Lucky for me, they had an opening so I said good-bye to my husband, 4-year-old daughter and 2-year-old son. For six long weeks.

The hospital was good for me. I had a team of doctors that monitored my care. They changed my medication, suggested intensive therapy and recommended electroconvulsive therapy because I was treatment resistant. The change-up in meds worked, I did intensive therapy as well as family therapy with my husband, and when I was weaned off the right meds, I tried the ECTs — they changed my life. I took mandatory classes where I learned about coping skills. At the six-week mark, I felt confident to leave, but I should’ve stayed longer honestly.

When I returned to the real world, I thought I was ready, but I wasn’t even close. I tried, but the safe walls of the quiet hospital were long gone, and it was hard to cope. But then I found NAMI. I learned how to truly cope at NAMI. They taught me about recovery. They told me that I was a human, that recovery wasn’t linear, and that it was okay if I messed up.

The hospital and the ECTs were good for me, but NAMI truly saved my life. There’s no doubt in my mind that I would’ve wound up back in the hospital had I not found NAMI. Or worse, that I would’ve killed myself.

And now, as the six-year anniversary passes, I think about my current state of affairs. I’m depressed. It’s not bad, but it sure is annoying. Everything is difficult to do, and my body feels so heavy. I’m isolating, thinking it will recharge me, but it doesn’t. I do self-care most days, but it’s not very rewarding.

I hate the summer schedule, and I know that school is starting in a month, but that gives me anxiety, too. I just feel stuck.

It’s all temporary, I know this. But I can’t tell that to my pain, which is real and steadfast at the moment.

I need to paint. To read, binge watch Gilmore Girls (which I’m already doing). Get a massage. Or two. Get my nails done. Wear something cute and belt out the lyrics to all my favorite Taylor Swift songs in the car. Wear the softest pajamas I have and watch a show with my husband. Eat my favorite meal and have ice cream for dessert.

Six years ago I would’ve just swallowed some Klonopin and let them numb my pain. Or I would’ve shopped for something I couldn’t afford. Cut myself. Lied and schemed until I got some form of dopamine.

But — as I smile as I type — I am not that person. My recovery has taught me better. I am stronger, so much stronger, and just now I see the answer: painting, reading, binge watching, massages, etc. — those forms of self-care are not just silly acts of self-care — they are my way out of this dark tunnel, they are my armor, they are how I fight back against relentless and cowardly depression.

I just need to fight, and I know how to do that.

After all, God gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.

And I’m reeeeeaaaaaallllllly strong.

To be honest, I don’t hear the word, “no,” very often. Not when it counts. Not that my life is perfect, but I do live a damned good life (aside from debilitating depression, anxiety and an eating disorder), and I do work hard to live my very pleasant and joyful life.

But every so often that two-letter word hits me like a ton of bricks. No? Like, is that the final decision — just no??! No yes in sight. Just No.

I went through this earlier this week when someone told me no, someone I was expecting to tell me yes – and that’s even worse. It felt like a personal failure. I had counted on this. A yes would’ve confirmed my belief in my hard work, that I’m a good person, that I’m valuable and worthwhile.

Now I’ve had a few days to think this situation over, and I know it doesn’t mean all that, but my chest is still tight replaying, “I’m sorry, but…” over and over.

I can try again, and I will, but I need to release this grief, and the fact that I think I’m a loser, even though I know deep down I’m not.

I suppose hearing no is what has shaped me all these decades, not all the yeses that have rained down on my head lately — I’m still so grateful for those, though. I’m a really lucky and blessed girl. And I’m grateful for everything in my life. A lot of amazing things happen to me, and this is probably another one of those things.

This isn’t a personal failure. This is a teaching moment and a challenge to pick myself back up and get ready for next time. And there will be a next time. I’ve never been in charge, but God knows what he’s doing, and he’s been molding me into the leader he wants me to be. Probably someone who needs to get used to hearing the big N-O.

I just have to be patient. Continue to work hard. I’ll get my husband to practice saying, “no,” more — he’ll love that. And I’ll remember we all have our own journeys that play out differently than others. And that’s okay. I’m 41-years-old. There’s still time. I’m just on a slower path.

I am valuable and worthwhile. That’s how I know I’ll get that yes one day.

I owe y’all an apology; it has been way too long since I’ve blogged, but to be fair, I have been so busy. For the past few months, I’ve been laser focused on NAMI GCC’s Celebrity Jeopardy, which went off without a hitch and was such a success! I’m already thinking about the next one!

But, like always, I get a little blue after Jeopardy is over. I get so busy and hyper-focused on Jeopardy each year that when it’s finished, I feel like I don’t have any work to be done — believe me, I do. I actually have a big project to work on, but I guess it’s not as exciting as Jeopardy. I don’t know, I just feel blue.

Maybe it’s the kids being out of school, too. We’re onto their camp routine, so everyone sleeps later, and I do not like that one bit, but it’s hard for me to wake up early because I’m a bit depressed. And they don’t get to camp until 9 am, so I don’t get to start my work until then, so I skip lunch so I can still be finished by 5 pm. I just hate being out of routine. Big time.

And it’s hard to stay motivated. Although the project I’m working on is a big deal — NAMI GCC is transitioning into a Model A Affiliate, meaning we are going to be independent of NAMI Texas and be our own 501c3. There’s a lot of work and a lot of paperwork, but I’ve done a lot so far, and that is exciting, right? Right? It means big things for us. It’s a huge deal.

I’m ready for it!

I just wish depression weren’t nipping at my heels.

I’m sleeping more, not washing my hair, taking fewer showers, not eating right, isolating – although sometimes the isolation is restorative and my therapist said that it’s ok to do as long as that’s the case.

You know what I really need to do? Exercise. It’s been years. There’s nothing stopping me, and I know it would be so beneficial. That would definitely make me shower and wash my hair more. Two birds with one stone. I hate that phrase.

Things that have been helpful: Writing in my One Line A Day notebook, doing self-care at night, lighting candles before bed, taking small breaks during the day, dry shampoo, wearing comfy clothes when I’m at home, watching my favorite shows and letting everyone know I’m struggling so I can get some support.

I need to sit down and put together a routine that works for me – not just the kids. That would help immensely. I need to do more self-care. I need to give myself grace.

I know this is temporary, and it’s really not bad right now. This is just a blip, but it’s good to be prepared and wipe it out before it gets bigger.

Thank you to those on Facebook who took time to send me support, hugs, well wishes, etc. the other day when I posted about having a depressed, bad day. Your support was overwhelming and meant so much. I actually wrote a column about that so look for that in July at Caller.com.

I am so grateful for my support system.

I am so grateful.

I had therapy today, and because there were no pressing crises, we talked about how tomorrow (May 1) was my first day working as a full-time employee for NAMI Greater Corpus Christi. During the past almost four years, I’ve been volunteering, first as the Communications Director then as the Affiliate Leader.

At first I was worried about the obligation attached to the paychecks. In the past when I’ve worked, I always got in trouble for missing work due to my depression and/or migraines and I would be wracked with guilt. My bosses didn’t like me, and my co-workers were resentful.

It was different at NAMI GCC. I was a volunteer; I had no obligation, but I was passionate and I “worked” 20-40 hours a week, more if there were events. My “bosses” loved me. The people I volunteered with also loved me and appreciated my ideas and creativity. I felt like I found what I was meant to do.

It shouldn’t be much different now.

So as my therapist and I were discussing this she says, “Do you know awesome you are? This is a big deal. You are a big deal. You get shit done, and you are a change maker. You should be so proud of yourself.”

Tears immediately crowded my eyes.

She went on to remind me that I have major depression, which I fight every day, as well as anxiety. Yet here I was doing these big things, being a high achiever. I’ve never had anyone say that to me.

I’m a million miles from where I was just a few years ago when I went to the psychiatric hospital. My therapist continued to talk about how my self-image issues keep me from seeing just how awesome I am but that sometimes I need write down all my accomplishments to see it on paper.

By the way, I love her.

She’s right. I have done a lot for NAMI GCC. I should be proud.

I left her office smiling, confident that tomorrow, my first official day, would go great. Just as I’m sure the next 1,000 will.

In the afternoon, still feeling good about myself, I scrolled mindlessly through Facebook until I saw a friend’s post reminding everyone that today was the last day to apply for Leadership Corpus Christi (class 54). I knew the application deadline was soon, but I’ve been so busy, I just forgot. I’ve been wanting to apply for Leadership for the past couple years, but I’ve always chickened out.

Now is the time. Today is the day. Class 54 is it.

One of the reasons I’m coming on full-time for NAMI is to help transition the affiliate to an independent nonprofit. Right now, we’re under the umbrella of NAMI Texas so we don’t control our finances, and it can be a pain when we’re applying for grants.

I’m hoping at the end of the transition I’ll be the Executive Director, and I think Leadership CC can shape me into a better leader and prepare me for that.

And the funny thing is I’m not sure I would’ve even applied if my therapist (who’s class of 52 or 53, I believe) didn’t make such a big deal about me being a big deal. And to think I was going to cancel this morning.

Sometimes you just need a reminder about who you are.

I’m Heather Ann Loeb. I have a column in the Caller-Times. I run this blog. I’m the Affiliate Leader of NAMI Greater Corpus Christi. And I paint weird looking birds and love it.

And my therapist thinks I’m awesome.

Who am I to question a professional?

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.