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Mental Health

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10 Bad Habits of a Depressed/Anxious Person

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

Let me preface this blog by stating these are my experiences only – not all depressed people are the same, nor do they experience depression/anxiety in the same way.

When I first wrote this blog I didn’t have a problem with the title but now I do. Labeling the following as “bad habits” implies to me that these actions can be prevented but these things are uncontrollable side effects of depression and anxiety.

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So let me say, “10 Things That (Almost) Every Depressed/Anxiety Person Does”

1. Cancels plans – I cancel plans a lot, and I feel really bad about it. When I’m feeling good I reach out to my loved ones and make plans but when the time comes my mood and demeanor have changed. It feels physically impossible to hang out, especially if it’s in public. My depression/anxiety is so unpredictable, and because of this, it makes it hard for me to maintain some friendships.

2. Sleeps too much – When I’m in a depressive episode I can’t get enough sleep. Mostly because I feel extreme fatigue, but I also don’t want to be awake much because it’s too much work. I get overwhelmed, and it’s painful to be awake, so I go to sleep early and take naps during the day. This is a problem because it can intensify things like obesity, headaches and backaches. You miss out on things, and it’s just not healthy. It’s definitely not a long-term coping strategy.

3. Isolates – As I mentioned earlier, when you’re depressed it’s so much effort to be awake and functioning. This includes socializing with family and friends. Even texting seems hard, so it’s easy to just withdraw but this too is dangerous. Feeling alone can increase feelings of depression — mainly loneliness and despair — which could lead to suicidal thoughts.

4. Neglects personal hygiene – Sadly, this is a huge problems for me. For a long time, I could only shower once a week. I also have trouble brushing my teeth. It seems silly because these tasks don’t seem hard but if you’re depressed, they’re an impossible task. I would feel gross, slovenly and even worse about myself.

5. Overuses drugs and alcohol – I abused my anxiety meds because I wanted to feel anything but the pain and discomfort depression and anxiety were making me feel. So I took pills to feel loopy and out of it. This obviously doesn’t aid in recovery of depression, and it can kill you. Using anything to numb the pain is dangerous, whether it’s prescription meds, drugs or alcohol. If you’re struggling with substance abuse, please reach out to your doctor.

6. Dissociates – I just wrote a blog abut this, check it out here. Dissociation is common to those who have depression. It’s one way the mind copes with too much stress or trauma. Experiences of dissociation last hours or days. That feeling that I’m detached from my body is why I like to binge eat or take pills — it’s just a feeling of escape. It doesn’t happen often with me, but I totally understand why.

7. Doesn’t eat enough or eats too much – I have Binge Eating Disorder, where I eat until I’m uncomfortably or painfully full but don’t purge. Overeating like that isn’t much different from me abusing medication — I just want to feel “good” for awhile. The problem with bingeing is that I only temporarily feel good. The aftermath and effects are terrible, but I seem to forget this when I’m bingeing.

8. Snaps at loved ones – Sometimes anxiety can manifest as anger or rage. I didn’t know that until recently. When I start snapping at my husband or yelling at the kids, I know it’s my “check engine” light coming on and I need to take a break or practice self-care.

9. Overthinks – This is called rumination, and it’s hard to stop. I’ll get a thought in my head or replay a scenario and think about it for hours, even days. It’s hard to control, and it causes me to feel shame and guilt. Believe me, I don’t need anymore of those.

10. Worries too much about the future – Sometimes I’ll get caught up on the future. I’ll worry excessively about it (and even ruminate), even though I know it’s irrational to do so. Mainly, I’ll think about finances or my husband dying. It’s unpleasant and just causes more anxiety. This is also hard to control.

Any others you can think of? Leave them in the comments.

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Signs That I’m Slipping Into a Depressive Episode

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

Up until a couple years ago I thought that if you were depressed it meant being sad all the time. Now, I know that if you have major depressive disorder, your depression comes in waves or depressive episodes. Like right now, I’m not experiencing one but I’m still depressed because it’s a chronic condition. It can be confusing but below you’ll find out what it’s like (for me) to experience a depressive episode.

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  1. My anxiety manifests as anger — I recently discovered that anxiety can be masked by anger, or in some cases, rage. Sometimes, it’s not apparent that I’m anxious, even to me, but I realize my “check engine light” is coming on when I snap at the kids or my husband. Other times, I see red and want to throw or kick something. Regardless, I now know that anxiety is most likely the culprit and I need to resolve whatever it is I’m feeling. When this happens repeatedly, I know a depressive episode could be on the horizon.
  2. I overeat and binge — When I’m upset, I purposely overeat or binge. Unfortunately, this is my go-to coping mechanism and not a very good one. I think that by overeating I’ll forget whatever pain I’m experience, but the relief is only temporary (the weight gain often is not). It takes a lot of strength for me to bypass this behavior and choose something healthier, something that will actually be helpful.
  3. I sleep more — Usually, I wake up from 5 to 6 a.m. and go to sleep between 9 and 10 p.m. If I’m adding a nap during the day or going to bed before 9 p.m., that usually means something is up. Sometimes I have to force myself to go to bed on time because I’ll want to stay up in the name of alone time. I know I’m headed for trouble when I’m in so much pain that I can’t stay awake any longer than necessary.
  4. My temper is shorter — I have two small children, so patience is critical for my mental health. But there are times, when I lost it easily over seemingly innocuous things, such as the kids being too loud. See no. 5 below, lol.
  5. Loud noises freak me out — When I’m in the “danger zone” of a panic attack or depressive episode, loud and unexpected sounds (such as the kids dropping something) make me angry, scared and out of control. Going somewhere that’s usually loud is out of the question, too. I suspect that I have Misophonia, a disorder in which certain sounds trigger emotional or physiological responses that some might perceive as unreasonable given the circumstance. But I already have enough diagnoses, so I haven’t checked into it.
  6. I want to crawl into bed after I take the kids to school — Sometimes I need a nap during the day, and that’s OK, but I try not to make it a habit anymore; it just reminds me of when I was super depressed before going to psychiatric hospital. If I’m crawling into bed more than usual during the day, say more than once a week, I know to assess what’s going on.
  7. I cry more — This is pretty straight forward. I’m a crier anyway, but I start to cry like every day, then something’s up.
  8. I don’t do my favorite activities and hobbies — This is one of the most annoying part of depression but a good barometer on what’s going on in my head. Typically, I like to write, sing, read, sew, etc. but when I’m depressed I watch more TV than usual and all my other hobbies fall to the wayside.
  9. My anxiety is through the roof — Also straight forward. When I’m anxious there’s an uptick in my anxiety medication, and I tend to be very jumpy and short tempered.
  10. I stop wearing “real” clothes — I”m started to waver on this one. By real clothes, I mean a nice bra, jeans, a blouse, etc. — anything that’s not leggings, basically. BUT we are in a pandemic and I just don’t see that many people so I’ve been wearing more loungewear than normal. But usually when I’m depressed, I’m in oversized sweats and my hair is dirty.

If you have some tell-tale signs of entering into a depressive episode, I’d like to hear them. Drop them in the comments.

Thanks for reading. Stay in the light.

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Kids

Goodbye, Kindergarten..Hello, World

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb
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Isla was two when she started preschool at JCC. I have a photo on our doorstep before our, I mean her, first day with her “packpack” and lunch. At the time I was unsure about starting a new preschool, but David told me how much he loved the J when he was a kid and what a great school it was. I was so nervous that first day and just counted down until I could pick her up.

But I didn’t have anything to be nervous about. The teachers were (and are) amazing. In the almost five years I’ve had a kid there, I’ve never met a teacher or staff member I didn’t like. I remember getting pictures of Isla “hiding” under her nap mat, trying to trick the teachers and making Challah with her, which I had never done before. I loved that she was learning the culture and traditions of our “tribe.” And how each summer she’d learn to swim every day at summer camp. There’s not a whole lot I didn’t (and don’t) love.

The JCC parents are great, too. I find them to be very friendly, helpful and inclusive. I guess that’s why I was talked into running the book fair two years in a row. I remember being so anxious that I wouldn’t do it right or make any money for the school, but I guess both Isla and I have grown. I even liked being part of the parent/teacher organization (PTO). Just like Isla, I’ve made great friends.

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All that — and more — is why I have a lump in my throat about Isla’s last week of school and subsequent graduation. Our experience has been so good at JCC, and I know Isla will miss it so much. She’s already said she doesn’t want to leave. I’m sure, like me, she feels she’s leaving behind her second family. One that has shaped who she is, and let me tell you, she’s amazing. And now the tears are falling.

I know Isla will do great at Windsor Park because JCC has prepared her better than anyone else could have. She’ll make new friends, and I’m sure I’ll like the teachers, but I’ll always have a soft spot for the J.

I’m so thankful that my youngest still has two more years at JCC……that I have two more years, too.

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10 Benefits of Having Depression

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb
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Don’t let the title of this blog fool you — depression definitely sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone; however, there are some things that having severe depression (and anxiety) have taught me. If I’m going to deal with these disorder for the rest of my life, I better make hay when the sun shines.

1. I’m empathetic – Depression is a chronic disease, an invisible one, and so many people misunderstand just how bad it can be. A lot of people put on a happy face while they go to work and in front of their friends even when inside they feel like they are slowly dying a painful death. I have learned not to judge others as much, because we truly don’t know what’s going on with someone unless they confide in us. And those who are suffering from a chronic or invisible illness, I have so much more empathy toward. I know what it’s like — the pain, the judgement from others, etc. Having depression has taught me to respect other people’s health journey, no matter what that may be.

2. I’m also resilient – I’ve been through a lot, and even though it’s still painful at times, I fight. I bounce back. I shake it off.

3. I’m able to help others – I’ve had depression and anxiety since I was about 12 years old. I’ve taken tons of different medications, I’ve been hospitalized at a psychiatric facility, I’ve abused my anxiety meds, I’ve self harmed and I have an eating disorder. These experiences help me relate to others and I can share what I’ve gone through, hopefully so they don’t repeat my mistakes.

4. I have lots of patience – During a depressive episode, I can get so frustrated with my brain for not working correctly, but I’ve learned that if I just stick it out, the sun will shine again and my pain will fade. I just have to be patient — with my brain, with my medications, the ECTs (electroconvulsive therapy), etc. With the right combination of therapy, medication and coping skills, life gets better. It will always get better.

5. I appreciate the little things in life – This is hard to do during a depressive episode, because everything feels like hard work. (See my spoons blog). It’s hard to shower, eat, sleep and take care of my family, etc. That’s why I have to force myself to appreciate the little things — a cold Diet Coke, fresh flowers, painting my nails, playing with my kids and binge watching TV shows with David. “Indulging” in these things helps me to remember that life is good, despite what my brain is telling me and that I have to continue to take care of myself to experience the good.

6. I’m confident I can handle anything – I’ve battled severe postpartum depression, I’ve fought off suicidal thoughts more times than I can count, I’ve been hospitalized for six weeks and I continue to fight my major depression on a daily basis. These are not easy feats. It’s especially hard when you’re fighting a disease in which your own brain tells you to kill yourself or you’re not worthy. Yet, here I am despite it all. I’m strong, and I know I can handle anything that comes my way.

7. It’s taught me who I am – I kept quiet about my depression, anxiety and eating disorder because I learned somewhere along the way that these things were character flaws. I thought I was broken and flawed and didn’t get the help I needed. That’s the stigma of mental health talking. Depression is just a disease I fight — it’s not who I am. I’m the strong, resilient, loving woman who kicks depression’s ass everyday. Everything I went through was a major gut check, and even though I hate what depression has done to me, it’s made me a better, stronger version of myself and I can’t hate that. I’m proud of my journey and I’m proud that I can be so open about it. My hope is that others will read my blogs and feel free to share their journey as well.

8. I’m brave – It wasn’t easy being honest about my mental disorders and sharing that I’ve been hospitalized and suicidal. Although it was freeing later in the process, it was really painful when I initially shared everything because so many people don’t understand mental health. But that just means we have to work harder at normalizing it and sharing factual information about it. I’m brave for putting it all out there, I’m brave for doing ECTs every eight weeks and I’m brave for getting up every morning and fighting for my life.

9. It’s shown me who my real friends are – Being depressed is a real drag. I cancel plans with my friends quite a bit, and I know that gets annoying hearing that I’m depressed every. single. day. I get it. When you’re dealing with such a debilitating illness, you find out real quick who will stick by you and support you. It ain’t for sissies. I’m thankful for my girlfriends who continue to stick by me and give me unlimited support, no matter what’s going on with me.

10. It’s forced me to be more mindful – I have to keep very close tabs on my emotions and actions so I don’t slip into a depressive episode. I have to make sure I’m getting enough sleep, water, alone time, vitamins and more so I can be as healthy as possible. Monitoring my emotions is no different — I have to make sure that I’m processing and dealing with my feelings, especially if it’s a negative emotion. For example, if I’m feeling uncertainty or fear, I have to cope with that in a positive way and not a negative way, such as binge eating. It’s very easy to turn the feelings monitor off and try to fill that void with food or other unhealthy coping skills. So, I’m mindful of how I feel and in dealing with how I feel.

Any benefits I missed? Drop ’em in the comments. Thanks for reading. Stay in the light.

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Sentenced to Life

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

Please note that this was written two weeks ago and I feel better.

Last week I had a much needed ECT. When I awoke from the short procedure, I felt strange. Usually, I have a terrible migraine, I’m confused and fatigued, but this time I was alert, I knew what had just happened and there was no sign of a migraine. Good, right?

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During the two-hour drive home, I kept thinking that it was amazing that I didn’t feel like crap. I looked over the papers the hospital gave me and saw that I had a short, 42-second seizure, which is good — the shorter, the better. But something was bothering me.

It’s now been several days since the ECT. I don’t feel as different as I’d like. I don’t have much energy, I’m not as optimistic as usual and at times I’m just sad. I hate to say it, but I don’t think this treatment worked. It’s happened before — the ECT leaves me feeling no different or actually worse, but it’s rare. It scares me, because getting treatments is the main part of my treatment plan. I rely on them to feel better.

This is just a very sad reminder that I’ve been sentenced to life with major depression/anxiety, and there is no cure. I’m treatment resistant, meaning most medications won’t help. Therapy, ECTs and behavioral modification are the only things keeping me from slipping back into a depressive episode. And I’ve worked too hard to go back.

I don’t mean to be gloomy. Maybe it’ll take a week before I feel better. Maybe I’ll have to work harder on self-care and turning to healthy coping mechanisms. I hope to hell I don’t, but maybe I’ll need another ECT before the next one scheduled in eight weeks. Maybe that one will work.

It’s just hard not to feel betrayed right now. I hate getting ECTs, but I continue to get them because I know they help make me a better mom, wife and friend…they usually help, anyway. But this time was different — I feel bamboozled. I went to all that trouble for what? To still feel out of gas and like there’s nothing to look forward to? I hate my brain! Even if I do (most) everything right, my efforts are thwarted. It just doesn’t matter, my brain’s gonna do what my brain’s gonna do. And that, my friends, is depressing in itself.

I’ll give it a few more days. I’ll do my best, practice self-care, go to therapy. I’ll drudge on, but I have a feeling I’ll be making another trip to San Antonio sooner than expected. And that’s OK, if the next time works.

But what in the hell will I do if it doesn’t?

I can’t really entertain that thought, because it’s so suffocating. I feel the urge to stomp my foot like a child and scream, “It’s not fair!” Because it sure the fuck isn’t.

It’s just not fair.

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What Would Make This Better?

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I remember when I was much, much younger and was dating an older boy. We were picnicking at the park, and it was a beautiful day. It was one of those moments I thought that I would remember forever; however, now I remember it for the wrong reasons.

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As I was enjoying the day and our time together, my boyfriend asked, “Do you know what would make this better?” Fully expecting him to say, “Nothing!” I asked what. Then he said, “Alcohol!”

Now, I don’t drink and am not against it at all, but I was so annoyed. We didn’t need alcohol to make anything better — it was perfect as it was. He then said, “Or maybe smoking a joint.” I was really pissed after that, even though I’m not against marijuana either.

I didn’t understand my boyfriend. He was always trying to drink or smoke, and I didn’t realize why until I began abusing my anxiety pills several years ago — he was trying to escape pain. He had many problems that he never dealt with and unfortunately never really got a chance to because he died in a suspected drunk driving accident. He was in his 20s, a kid almost.

When I was severely depressed and suicidal, I started abusing benzodiazepines, which are highly addictive. I was still dealing with postpartum depression, although I didn’t realize it until things got dire for me. I remember thinking to myself that the pills made everything better, and I’d take them every chance I got, eventually working my way up on the dosage. Even when I wasn’t anxious, I’d take them. I too was trying to escape. And even though I thought the pills were helping me and making me happier, they weren’t. They were just numbing me to the pain. Whatever relief I got from those tiny little pills was temporary, and I was doing much more harm than good.

I was lucky; I could’ve easily overdosed on those pills and died. So many people do but when I went to the psychiatric hospital for my depression, I was encouraged to take the addiction classes and deal with my demons there, too. Even though I don’t miss the pills, I still get the desire to escape in some form. That has never gone away and because of that it’s wise that I avoid drinking, benzodiazepines and other mood altering substances.

This is such an important topic. I have everything I’ve ever wanted — great family/friends, a wonderful husband, great kids, beautiful home — so why do I need to escape? My therapist asks me that all the time and for the life of me, I just can’t think of an answer.

That’s the thing about depression, even when you’re happy with your life it still drags you down like a ball and chain. I can fight it with positivity all I want, but it will still be there, lurking in the dark corners of my fragile mind. So I embrace it — the good days and the bad. I know that when things get gloomy, it’s only temporary, and it will always get better. I’ll keep fighting the good fight and when someone asks me, “What could make this better?” my answer will be, “Nothing.”

Nothing at all.

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All About ECT (Electroconvulsive Therapy)

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I’ve had a lot of questions about ECT (electroconvulsive therapy) lately, so I thought I’d talk about it more today.

I’ve been doing ECT treatments since 2019, after I stayed at the Menninger Clinic for six weeks. My doctors all agreed that I was treatment-resistant, meaning most depression medications would be ineffective in helping me, and ECT has a high success rate.

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I’ve had about 30 treatments, and I can honestly say they have changed my life for the better. I have more energy, more patience, I’m not sad as often, and I’m able to function pretty well for a girl with no serotonin, lol.

I now do my treatments at the Laurel Ridge Treatment Center in San Antonio; there are no doctors who do them in Corpus Christi where I live.

When I arrive at the treatment center, I fill out paperwork on how I’ve been feeling and whether I’ve been suicidal. I talik to the nurses and PA, discuss the depression symptoms I’ve experiencing then they move me to a bed. A nurse then puts in an IV and they give me medication for nausea, just in case. Next, they wheel my bed into the treatment room where an anesthesiologist, a doctor and nurse are waiting. They attach electrodes to my forehead and temple, then add a blood pressure cuff and pulse oximeter. Usually at this time, my blood pressure gets higher and my pulse races because I’m scared, even though I have no reason to be.

The docs chat with me for a bit and then they put me under anesthesia. After I’m out, they put a bite guard in my mouth and give me the oxygen mask. The nurse starts up the ECT machine which will send electric pulses to my brain, triggering a brief seizure. They also give me a muscle relaxant, so I’m not moving a whole lot. Once the seizure is started, they wait for my brain to stop it. My brain works hard to stop it as fast as it can, but sometimes the docs have to administer medication to stop it. The shorter the seizure, the better the outcome I usually have. This past ECT I had a 42-second seizure but I’ve also had ones that last up to a minute or longer.

After the seizure, I’m sent to a recovery area. It usually takes about 20 to 30 minutes for me to wake up. After I’m looked over by the nurses, I’m free to go home. I usually have a killer headache, so I get something to eat, take my migraine meds and sleep on the way back to Corpus Christi.

I can see how reading this would surprise some people — one person described it as barbaric after I explained the treatments, but it is not barbaric. For someone like me, it’s life-saving, and even though I don’t like getting them done, I’m grateful for treatments.

ECT helps as many as 80-85 percent of patients who receive it and is the most effective treatment option for those who are treatment-resistant.

Most people have an initial course of ECT then do maintenance treatments every now and then. I haven’t gotten to the point where I don’t need them, so I go every four to eight weeks. I’m working on stretching out the treatments, and maybe one day I won’t need as many.

I hope I haven’t shocked you — haha, get it? If you’d like to know more, please leave a comment on email me heatherannloeb@gmail.com

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Low Battery Mode

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

Note: I wrote this blog a couple weeks ago and have since had an ECT treatment.

It started yesterday — irritability, moodiness and the urge to overeat. I attributed it to lack of sleep; Eli had woken up at 3 a.m. and hadn’t gone back to bed, which meant I didn’t go back to bed. I thought if I just get some good sleep I’d be fine, but this morning, I could feel it — thick fog around my brain, heavy weight on my shoulders, more irritability and wanting to just go back to bed.

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I thought, “Great, I’ll have to get another ECT before I’m ready.” I’m trying to go at least eight weeks without one. I was totally preparing to power down to my Low Battery Mode when I thought to myself that I should get on the treadmill and spur some endorphins. It was the first time I’d ever worked out for my mental health and not to lose weight. I didn’t stay on the treadmill long (my kids drained my Air Pod batteries) but I instantly felt better, not all the way better but better. Not bad for a girl with no serotonin.

I still have the urge to binge and to get in bed for the better part of the day. That’s where my Low Battery Mode comes in, like I talked about on my Spoon Theory post. I only have so much energy, even when I’m not feeling depressed. Unfortunately, that means I’ll have to depend on my husband more and housekeeper. I say unfortunately because my husband already has a lot on his plate and I never want to be a burden. So, I’ll ask for help when I need it. I’ll take more breaks than usual. I’ll force myself to drink more water and back off the Diet Cokes. I’ll get a pedicure. I might even take a (short) nap. I’ll do what I have to do to feel better, because I HATE getting ECTs. It should be a last resort on my treatment plan, not just a quick fix. I hate feeling like I’m waving a white flag in defeat to my depression. I want to fight, I have to fight it. I just can’t let it win. And if it turns out that I do really need an ECT, I’ll concede because that’s what’s best for my family and me. But I still want to fight. I’ll have to fight my brain and not give into unhealthy coping mechanisms that seem so much easier to do than healthy ones.

Last night, I wanted pizza for dinner. We don’t usually eat pizza, we usually cook or get takeout from Asian restaurants. But I wanted pizza. I thought that it would just be a treat because I had a bad day and sometimes you just have to treat yourself. But when you’re dealing with an eating disorder, it’s a slippery slope. And I sure did slip. I purposely ate too much and then binged on my kids’ candy stash. I felt so sick, and despite feeling so badly, I still planned on getting donuts in the morning before dropping off the kids at school.

It’s the instant gratification that I’m always seeking. I hate being uncomfortable, so I turn to my bad habits for that temporary release.

But today is a new day. Instead of feeling overwhelmed and anxious about my mood, I actually feel optimistic. I didn’t just say, “Fuck this day!” and give myself carte blanche to binge, etc. I made myself get on the treadmill. I made myself sweat and think about how much better I would feel afterward. And that, my friends, is progress. It’s a huge step for me. I KNOW what to do to stay healthy, I blog about it all the time, but honestly this is one of the first times I’ve actually taken my own advice. It’s hard when your brain is telling you to do the opposite, but I did it. I won a battle against my obstinate brain.

I might still have to power down a bit, but that’s OK. It’s self-care. It’s a survival mechanism, a healthy one.

So, I’ll keep on fighting and surviving — it’s what I do best.

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What Will Your Kids Think?

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

Ever since I started blogging and writing columns for the local newspaper, friends and even strangers have asked me if I’m going to let my kids read my articles when they’re older and what will my kids think about what I’m writing. When first asked, I thought it was strange, but it’s been asked many times. It’s odd to. me because I’m very open in my struggles and don’t mind sharing them. To me, and maybe I’m wrong, there’s the implication that I’m writing something that my kids shouldn’t see, which is bullshit.

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In my house, we talk openly of me depression. My kids know I struggle at times and understand to the best of their ability. We don’t talk about my suicidal thoughts, but they realize when I’m not doing well. It’s kind of hard not to notice.

Maybe people don’t mean it that way but aren’t I doing this all for my kids? And their generation? When I first started this blog (spurred by Kate Spade’s suicide), it was to stop hiding, to eradicate the stigma associated with mental illness. I want it to be second nature for someone to talk about their struggles and illness in general. I don’t want them or anyone to feel the shame and guilt that seem to come with every depression diagnosis.

Lying and keeping my illness to myself only worsened by condition. Not being educated about mental disorders only hurt me; had I had early intervention when I first started showing signs of anxiety and depression, I might not have ended up at a psychiatric facility. I certainly would’ve been better off learning about coping skills at that age. I’m not trying to blame anyone in particular but society as a whole. When you know what to look for, it’s a lot easier to get help.

And now we know what to look for, but we’re still thwarted by the stigma, thwarted in our recovery and maintenance.

So, yes, I do want my kids to read my articles and blogs. I want them to be aware that it could happen to them. I want them to know that even if they don’t struggle with mental illness, they still need to be empathetic and not cast judgement on others. I need them to know that it can happen to anyone and that you can’t just wish it away. I surely would have done so a million times by now.

I also need them to know that it’s not their fault that I’m the way that I am. It’s not theirs, and it’s not mine. It’s a disease like any other, and that’s something people choose to ignore.

I’ve had many people send me messages and emails saying they love my blog but can’t talk to their family and friends about their mental illness because they were afraid of the consequences — I know them too well. The ridicule and ignorant statements that it’s something that we choose. Just the other day, a good friend came over and was admiring how new house. He then looked at me and said, “I wouldn’t have any mental health issues in this house.”

I scoffed. I thought he was kidding, and maybe he was, but it’s not funny. I am blessed and fortunate to say the least, but even my good blessings can’t keep the dark, lonely, violent throes of depression. That’s the kind of thinking that keeps people quiet. And when people keep quiet about their struggles, they’re more prone to kill themselves. We must stop that dangerous rhetoric now.

Honestly, it will probably be a little painful when my kids read what I write, but at least they’ll know that I’m honest and authentic in my struggles and I worked very hard to lend my voice to those who couldn’t quite find theirs, by no fault of their own. That I stood up for people like me, that I demanded change. That I fought for their generation to be different. That ever since I gave birth to Isla, I’ve been fighting every single day for my life, and it’s because of them that I will never stop fighting.

Never.

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ihatemybrain-1024x657-2267437

I Hate My Brain

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

Ever have a long day and think to yourself you deserve a treat? So you get ice cream and start to feel better? That sounds normal to me. My problem is that I think I deserve a treat multiple times a day. I constantly want to feel good. To feel happy. I compulsively eat to get that high and, enjoy that “treat.” Then I feel sick. After I’ve recovered, I look for another treat, forgetting how sick I felt earlier. It’s a vicious cycle.

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I do this a lot but especially when the kids are away at my mother-in-law’s. I tell myself that I need to relax, enjoy the quiet and that I need to feel good. Last night, even after I had a big dinner, I sat there thinking of what I could eat that would make me feel good. And I even tried many things, despite being uncomfortably full already. M&Ms didn’t work. Neither did peanut butter crackers, ice cream or SweeTARTS.

But there is nothing I can eat that will make me truly happy.

Now, I’m trying to give myself a break because I am in need of an ECT treatment, which is scheduled for Friday. Usually the week before treatment I run out of gas, and I try to cope however I can. BUT this doesn’t just happen in the weeks leading up to treatment. This happens all the time, even when I’ve just had an ECT.

So I pose this question, “Why do I feel the need to be happy all the time?” Honestly, that question was asked by my therapist last week. She following up with, “Can’t we sit with other emotions? Nobody is happy every minute of the day.”

And she’s right. We don’t need to be happy every minute. I think my problem is that I HATE being uncomfortable, so I’ll do anything to push those negative emotions aside. Emotions like anxiety, stress, anger or sadness. It’s clearly not working for me to ignore these problems, and even if overeating has helped in the past, it sure as hell is not working now.

This may sound strange, but I think I need to acknowledge and honor whatever feelings I’m having. Maybe I need to grab my journal whenever I’m feeling negative emotion, talk about what’s going on and then release that feeling. I don’t know.

All I know if that I need to stop coping by bingeing. It’s made me gain a bunch of weight and really, aren’t I just eating my emotions?

Sometimes I really hate my brain, which I hold responsible for my debilitating-at-times depression and anxiety. I hate that it doesn’t respond to other treatments. I hate that my mental health is so precarious, and I resent that I have to be so careful as to not disturb it. I hate that happiness seems so fleeting at times. I’m not a big fan of my eating disorder either.

I don’t like to say hate; It forces a dichotomy with the idea that I should love and respect myself. I’m trying really hard to love myself, even almost 30 pounds heavier and a handful of mental disorders. But I feel betrayed by my brain. I know I need to reconcile those ideas. I know there is more benefit in loving all of me. I’ll get there. Despite everything that my brain has thrown at me, I’ve only become stronger. Take that, asshole.

And there are times that I think God made me this way because He thought I could handle it. I can, and I will. I remember this quote: “Your talent is God’s gift to you. What you do with it is your gift back to God.” I don’t mean to sound haughty, but maybe He knew I would use my voice and (hopefully) help others through my writing. That’s why I can’t stop blogging so much about mental health; there are so many who feel alone and haven’t found their voice yet. I certainly don’t mind lending mine in the meantime.

I guess my brain is just as much a blessing as a curse.

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