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mental illness

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Sometimes it feels like I eat, sleep and breathe my mental disorders. My depression is all consuming — how do I feel today? How about now? Am I anxious? Will I have a panic attack today? Will I have suicidal thoughts?

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In order to maintain my mental health, I have to adhere to a strict routine, and any interruption — big or small — to that routine can cause me to fall into a depressive episode. It’s like I’m walking on a tight rope, and it’s a lot to deal with, to say the least.

I don’t mean to complain, only to emphasize that it’s a lot just to keep me feeling OK and functioning at the most basic of levels. As hard as it is for me, it’s has to be even harder for David.

I imagine him each day gauging what mood I’m in, how fragile I am at the moment and whether he has to come home early to help me with the kids, because I’m overwhelmed. It happens every week. Some of you will say it’s his job as my husband, that he’s not fighting mental illness, but he is.

He is right alongside me every day, battling depression, anxiety and my binge eating disorder. He takes me to doctors appointments, to get ECTs in San Antonio every four to six weeks and he’s there advocating for me and picking up the slack. And there’s a lot of it.

Even in the midst of being suicidal, abusing my meds and self harming, his love has never wavered. I don’t mean to make him out to be perfect, but he has been there for me and the kids through the worst of my depression.

He is living this disease just as much as I am.

Nobody ever talks about how spouses/significant others struggle with this — the other side of depression. Often, they play the role of caregiver, and even if it’s necessary, it’s not sexy. Nothing about depression is. Spouses should be recognized for their sacrifices and struggle, too.

The truth is David must be weary. I know I am. But everything he does is to support me and literally keep me alive and functioning. How tiring that must be, because I live in a dark place. My brain is not my friend, often telling me I should die. It’s so dark sometimes I feel blind, lost in despair and destined to suffer.

But then there’s David, with enough light for the both of us.

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This past week was very stressful and anxiety-inducing. On Tuesday, the day of the election, I was a ball of nerves and after putting the kids to bed, I glued my eyes to the TV to watch the returns.

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I was shocked. I thought it would be a landslide for Joe Biden. For a while, it wasn’t looking good and I flashbacked to four years ago as Trump won the presidency. I cried. I cried, and I lashed out at my parents and brother, who voted for Trump. I remember feeling so much disappointment because it felt like hate had prevailed over love. I watched over the past four years as Trump erased what I considered progress. It felt like evil had trumped (get it?) good.

As the election dragged on, I felt so disappointed there were still so many people who supported Trump, for whatever reason. I had resigned myself to four more years of disappointment.

And then, the mail-in ballots started to favor Biden, and Trump’s lead in battleground states dissipated. It felt like a miracle.

Yesterday, news outlets called the election in favor of Biden/Harris, and the two spoke that night. I listened to their speeches, and I cried happy tears. I’m happy that my kids get to see a woman as VP. I’m so happy for little girls of color who now have someone who looks like them in one of the highest offices in this nation. I’m happy that Biden mentioned LGBTQ+ people in his speech. I’m happy for progress.

Some negative comments have been made on Facebook about a Biden/Harris picture I posted, including one comment my aunt left that said, “Disgusting” but I don’t care. There’s no home for negativity in my heart, and if others want to live that way, that’s fine by me.

Love always wins.

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Validation and Judgement

by Heather Loeb

Last week, I asked my husband and best friend if they felt my blog was repetitive. I don’t know what made me ask, but I think I already knew the answer. 

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They told me I repeated a lot of material, namely how I spent time at a psychiatric facility. 

I looked over my blog posts and realized they were right. Though it’s pertinent to some of my blogs, I realized I talk about it a lot. 

I ruminated about this for a couple of days, and then it hit me: I talk about my time at The Menninger Clinic so much because a stay at a psychiatric facility must mean I’m really sick, right? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve known I’ve been sick for years, but to others who don’t understand depression, it was validation, at least in my eyes. Depression and anxiety, while debilitating, are invisible illnesses. Unless you have a front-row seat to someone’s struggle, most don’t understand just how debilitating it can be. The stigma and stereotypes about depression have often left me feeling like I was less than, lazy or like I wasn’t trying hard enough, so I imagined others were thinking the same thing. That’s how shitty our society portrays depression (and other mental disorders).

How many of you have been brushed aside, misjudged or been treated badly because of depression? It should not be this way; we deserve better. I shouldn’t have to go to a fancy psychiatric facility for someone to only then believe I’m really sick.

More than 17 million people in the U.S. have depression. Anxiety, which often accompanies depression, is the most common mental disorder, affecting more than 40 million adults. These are not rare conditions. They should be widely understood, and the way to make that happen is to talk about it openly, disintegrating the stigma and educating others.

I know that not everybody needs educating; I’ve noticed that attitudes toward depression vary by generation. The younger generations, who are more sensitive in my opinion, are typically better at accepting the diagnosis and acknowledging depression as a legitimate disease. But the stigma still lurks, and we should still continue to fight it until there are no repercussions of admitting that you have depression. For example, telling your boss you have depression and/or anxiety. Many people keep it under wraps so they’re not judged.

And we have to stop judging ourselves. I don’t know why I would talk about going to a “mental hospital” so much, other than to prove to others that I was really sick, and that’s sad as hell. But maybe I don’t need to convince others — maybe I need to convince myself.

My struggles and pain are real. Depression is real and debilitating at times. Anxiety is real. My feelings are valid. I am not lazy — I hustle to make sure I’m maintaining my mental health. It is a full-time job, and it is exhausting. But still I hustle, because I’m strong and resilient. We all are.

To all of you who are suffering in silence or who don’t feel validated in their illness, I’m sorry. I know you’re hurting. I know it’s frustrating to fight antiquated ideas about depression. I know it’s more than the “blues.” I see you.

Keep fighting. You don’t have to prove a damned thing.

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I’m struggling.

Recently, I blogged about gaining 15 pounds (thanks, COVID) and how discouraged I was. I know it’s not the end of the world, but I ruminate about each pound every day. It makes me feel ugly and unworthy. I try to make healthier choices, but I get dismayed any time I veer off my healthy course.

And then another part of me takes over, and I’m empowered. I tell myself that I’m beautiful no matter what. That I need to learn to love myself despite what the scale says.

I’m battling low self-esteem and an eating disorder (Binge Eating Disorder). A year ago I had the gastric sleeve surgery, hoping it would physically limit the amount of food I could eat, but I didn’t resolve my issues with my eating disorder, and I pushed the limits of my smaller stomach, eating so much that it was hard to breathe, not to mention painful.

Now, I can’t stop bingeing. I feel like I always need a treat, something to escape into, but I can’t figure out why I feel the need to escape so frequently. Maybe from stress of the pandemic? And my “treats” often turn into a punishment because I eat so much, too much for my stomach to hold. Too much shame to derive any pleasure in the binge. So, maybe it’s all punishment — for what, I don’t know.

It definitely doesn’t feel good, aside from the initial pleasure of the food hitting my palate, but it never lasts. It’s temporary, but the shame and pain from doing it is often permanent.

And then, in between binges, I stare into the mirror and try to love and appreciate my body, which has birthed two amazing kids. I breastfed them, sustained them with this body. I live here, in this 180-pound body that holds all my essence and what makes me me. I reject the idea that I’m ugly, fat and less than. I’m a child of God and wonderfully made. I’m just as beautiful outside as I am inside, and my light shines regardless of my weight. My worth is not tied to my weight.

But I get lost navigating the conflicting messages these two polar-opposite sides of me are sending. And for some reason, it’s easier to believe the negative ones: I’m ugly, I’m a fat ass, people are judging me, nobody loves me because I’m fat, etc. But I do feel like the other side of me’s voice is growing louder. It’s not a distant whispering anymore — she’s getting stronger, and I pray that she continues to do so, because I’m weary from fighting this division inside me. I wonder why everything has to be so hard. Isn’t having Major Depressive Disorder, General Anxiety Disorder and Avoidant Personality Disorder enough? Why are there so many things wrong with me? Maybe I don’t need to pull at that thread, but I’d really like not to collect any more diagnoses.

I want to find a balance where I can eat healthy, occasionally indulge and truly appreciate my body. I don’t want to tiptoe around the house anymore, thinking my footsteps are too heavy sounding.

I want normalcy. I don’t mean to complain and whine — I know that I’m the only one in charge of what food goes in my mouth. But it’s still so hard, and not just for me — about 30 million people have an eating disorder in the U.S., according to U.S. News and World Report. That roughly 20 million women and 10 million men. That’s a huge number, and eating disorders, like mental disorders, are often unreported so you can expect those numbers to be a little higher.

A lot of those people also suffer from a mental disorder. The National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders reports that 33 to 50 percent of people with anorexia also have a mood disorder. I don’t have numbers of what percentage of people with Binge Eating Disorder have a mood disorder, but I’m confident I’m not the only one.

Another alarming statistic is that 26 percent of people with an eating disorder attempt suicide. It’s beyond hard to have an eating disorder — you can’t give up food like an alcoholic can give up alcohol (Do not get me wrong. Battling any addiction is very difficult. I do not mean to imply otherwise). You have to fight your brain while learning new methods on how to nourish your body in a healthy way (such as intuitive eating or mindfully eating). It’s hard as hell for me to break old habits when it comes to food, but I know I need to do it if I want to be around for my family and friends later in life. Having an eating disorder is so hard on the body and mind. With everything else I’m battling, my body could use a respite.

I know a lot of us are in the same boat when it comes to weight gain during the pandemic. I don’t have any pointers because I’m still learning, but I do want to say be patient with your body. Give yourself some grace. Try to love the body you’re in, because you’re not getting another one. Weight can come off, and maybe it’s OK if it doesn’t.

You are not your eating disorder.

I hope y’all stay well and in the light.

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, please reach out to your doctor or visit the National Eating Disorders Association website. They also have a crisis text line — just text NEDA to 741741.

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Nothing too big to report this week. Halloween was fun, but I’m looking forward to cooler temperatures and moving into my new house, which should be before Thanksgiving. Allegedly. I’ll believe it when I see it.

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My series on mental health is still running in the local paper, and my third piece runs tomorrow. I’ve gotten some great feedback, and I hope I can do more in the future. Also, and I can’t remember if I’ve already mentioned this, but our local State Representative has asked me to speak at a Suicide Prevention Symposium, so I’ve been preparing my speech for that.

As far as my mood, I’m OK to good (depending on the house, lol). I made real strides last week in making healthier decisions, so now I just have to follow through. I still miss Diet Coke so much, but I’ve gone 8 days without it, and I’m proud of myself for it.

I hope you guys have a great week. Stay in the light.

Love,
Heather

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Even though more than 16 million adults in the U.S. suffer with depression, it’s still grossly misunderstood. I’m guessing that’s because of the stigma that’s attached depression and other mental illness. If nobody talks about it, then people can’t educate themselves about depression and the stigma can’t be eradicated.

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Hopefully you know that depression is more than just sadness. There are a whole host of symptoms that can be very debilitating, and depression can affect you physically, too.

Here’s what you might now know about depression that I’ve found out through my experience.

  1. A lot of medication I’ve tried, mainly antipsychotics, make you gain weight. While on Abilify, I gained 30 pounds in about four months. The meds helped me but gaining weight made me feel worse about myself. Often patients have to choose between a drug’s physical toll it can take and gaining weight. Normally, I would advise that you stay on a medication if it’s helping you, but because of the weight I gained, it just made me more depressed and fueled my body dysmorphia.
  2. Depression is misunderstood by A LOT of people. As I mentioned early, people don’t know that depression is more than sadness. It can affect your memory, concentration, sexual drive, appetite and sleep patterns. When I’m going through a depressive episode, it’s hard to get out of bed. I’m fatigued and it can be daunting to complete small (and usually easy) chores and tasks. People don’t understand that depression can affect all areas of your life.
  3. It’s lonely. Sometimes it feels like I’m on the outside looking in on the world go about their days and be happy. I feel out of place, because if you’ve never experienced major depression, it’s hard to understand. Just ask my husband. He’s the most supportive person in my life, but he still doesn’t understand completely. You start to think that everyone else is happy (they’re not) and that you never will be.
  4. People will judge you and you’ll feel guilty. That stupid stigma rears its ugly head again. People will think you’re lazy, that you’re not trying, that you can just “snap out of it,” but it doesn’t work like that. Sure, I fall behind on housework and take a lot of naps when I’m going through a depressive episode, but normally, I’m motivated and get things done. When depression hits, you are so fatigued it’s hard to even brush your teeth for two minutes. When people assume you’re lazy and not trying, it just means that they haven’t been educated on depression. That’s why we have to talk it. We have to say, “Screw the stigma,” and accept who we are. Then maybe others will better understand.
  5. You’ll experience fatigue and other physical ailments. I’ve already touched on this, but I wanted to talk about symptoms you may experience besides fatigue. I get migraines, stomach aches (mostly from my anxiety) and back pain. My sleeping patterns change, only leading to more fatigue.
  6. You’ll feel like a burden. I struggle with this so much. I feel guilty and like I’m a strain on my family, which sometimes I am. I went to a psychiatric facility for six weeks, leaving my husband in charge of most everything. It was hard. It was also very costly. And when I’m going through depressive episode, my husband has to pick up the slack with the house and kids. I also feel like I talk and think about my mental health 24/7, so I can tell if I get off track and am heading into an episode. I’m sure all my friends and family are tired of reading about and talking about my mental illness.
  7. There are “Impossible Tasks” that you will feel you can’t do. Mine is showering. When I’m depressed, I just can’t summon the strength to take one. I’ll go a week without doing it because it seems as hard as running a marathon with no shoes on and a bodysuit of armor. It may as well be. Brushing my teeth is also hard — any personal hygiene is hard for a lot of depressed people. You might find it gross, but it’s the truth.
  8. People won’t think you’re sick. Going back to thinking depression is sadness — they won’t understand if affects more than your mood. People don’t think depression is a disease like any other. Again, that’s the stigma talking.
  9. Family and friends may drop out of your life. It’s a lot to be friends with, date or deal with someone who has depression. We have unpredictable moods, we can’t always go out and socialize and we might even make others feel sad because we are. I get it can be draining, especially if your loved one feels like a caregiver at times.
  10. You’ll buy into the stigma at times but none of it is true. There have been times where I have thought I’m lazy, weak, useless, not trying hard enough or would be better off dead. No matter what, you should reject those ideas that are born only from ignorance. You’re not lazy or weak. Matter of fact, the strongest people I know struggle with mental illness.
  11. Sometimes you might feel like you want to die. I have treatment-resistant, major depression, and because of that, most medicines don’t work and it took a long time to figure out with meds did work with what therapies. In between that, I experienced severe bouts of depression where I felt suicidal. I didn’t want to be suicidal; I didn’t want to die. But my brain was telling me the only way to escape the unbearable pain I felt was to kill myself. It’s scary and overwhelming. If you are depressed and dealing with suicidal ideation, please call your doctor, reach out to a trusted friend or call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255. Read my blog on what it feels like to be suicidal here.

When I was first diagnosed almost 20 years ago, I didn’t realize how hard it would be to deal with depression. Now, not everybody with depression deals with all this and is not as severe, but I think it’s still important to know.

If you would like to read more about depression, I urge you to go to the National Institute of Mental Health.

Thanks for reading. Stay in the light.

If you have something to add to this list, drop it in the comments.

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This week was a challenging one, but overall, pretty good. I’ve been spending most of my days packing up the house, as we’ll move into the new one next month. There’s a ton to do, but I’ve been staying on top of it pretty well. I’m really excited about moving in. It’s been a long two years since we broke ground.

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Today has been challenging because I threw all my Diet Coke in the trash, and I’ve started doing a “pouch reset,” which is a diet that will help me get my stomach back to post-op size. It’s very restrictive, and I’ve mostly drank protein shakes today, so I’m a little irritable. I love food. And Diet Coke, but I had to move on and make a concerted effort to take care of myself, really take care of myself. You can read all about my self realizations here.

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Today my family went to the yacht club to do pumpkin carving and swimming, and I really enjoyed myself.

Tomorrow I have another article coming out in the paper, so I’m looking forward to that as well. I think it’s going to be a good week. At least, I hope so.

I hope all of you are doing well and staying in the light.

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One False Move

by Heather Loeb

Recently I was speaking to my mentor and dear friend of many years, and he made the comment that I seemed to be doing a lot better than I was a year ago. He then said, “I bet you have to work hard to keep your depression at bay.” As always, he was spot on.

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Many people think that because I went to a psychiatric facility for six weeks, I’m “cured” or “fixed.” But for me, and so many others, major depression is a life-long struggle. I have to be diligent in following my treatment plan and there’s just not much room for error. One false move can cause me to slip into a depressive episode, and there I am — Alice, fallen down the rabbit hole. But it’s no dream, it’s a living nightmare.

Accidentally skipping my pills, going to bed later than normal, skipping therapy, not exercising — that all costs me. Even if it seems so inconsequential, like not brushing my teeth before bed, it’s not. It takes only one thread to pull a tapestry apart.

I try to follow a strict schedule, where I wake up and go to bed at the same time everyday. I adhere to a self-care checklist, which holds me accountable to all the small chores I must do to maintain my mental health (brushing teeth, taking a shower, exercising). It doesn’t sound so bad, and I’m not seeking pity, but sometimes I’d like to stay up late every once in awhile or sleep in (with the kids, I guess this is moot). I crave flexibility and spontaneity. It doesn’t help that I’ve developed a very rebellious side that tells me, “You can’t tell me what to do!” And sometimes I’ll indulge her, which is never a good idea, but one I can’t seem to avoid.

Looking deeper, what I really want is to not have to look over my shoulder so much, in fear of a depressive episode. I don’t want to worry what that would mean for my family. I want security — safety from depression —and the thought of never having that is so overwhelming, it’s hard to breathe. The thought of having an ECT treatment every four to six weeks for the rest of my life, makes me want to sob. The idea that I will be suicidal again, is heartbreaking and scary as hell. It all feels so damn heavy, especially when I think about how my depression is present in my daily life, even when I’m not going through a depressive episode. It’s always there, lurking, making every little thing I do harder.

I would love not to have to question every emotion and investigate every bad mood. Sometimes I feel like I can’t even admit to a bad day without someone questioning if I “fell off the wagon” of good mental hygiene. I wish I could have some normalcy and not be at the mercy of my disease. I’m sure everyone is sick of hearing about it, I sure as hell am. But again, one false move could crush my fragile psyche.

Odds are that I will enter into another depressive episode. I’m just being realistic. I’m grateful that I’m better equipped now if that happens, but it’s still scary. I’d like to think I’ll never get as lost as I was before going to The Menninger Clinic, but if I do, I know my family and friends are there to support me. And that’s more than a lot of people have.

I’ve always been careful to thank God for all my blessings, and I’m so blessed. I know not everybody can go inpatient at a top psychiatric hospital. Not everybody has such supportive family and friends. And as messed up as it sounds, I’m grateful for my depression because it has taught me empathy, strength, resilience and patience. I wouldn’t be the person I am without it (and I’m pretty proud of who I’ve become).

Still, it’s scary knowing that I could return to that lonely, dark place.

Here’s to staying in the light.

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Negative Self Talk

by Heather Loeb
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It starts with something seemingly simple, like telling yourself you’re stupid for making a mistake. Or maybe you begin comparing yourself to others because they have a better body, car, job, etc.

These kind of thoughts, called negative self talk, are extremely dangerous when it comes to your self-esteem and self-worth.

I have no problem admitting this is one of my weaknesses. I catch myself saying things like:
“You’re ugly.
You’re fat.
Everyone thinks you’re a loser.
You’re a terrible mom.”

Just to name a few.

I do my very best to correct these insults as soon as I think them, so I won’t feel worse about myself, but it’s very difficult some days.

That’s the problem with negative self talk — once it enters your brain, it’s very hard to get them out. And once they’re there, they can burrow in deep, making you not just dissatisfied with yourself but dissatisfied with your life in general. It can take a toll on your confidence, increase shame and limit personal growth, according to Psychology Today.

Your thoughts — negative or positive — turn into actions and that’s why you have to be diligent in stopping negative thoughts in their tracks and fostering healthy, happy thoughts, especially if you have depression.

I know that if I let unhealthy thoughts play out, I’ll enter into a depressive episode and practice unhealthy behaviors.

The best way (for me) to think about it is that I have to do some things on a daily basis to maintain my mood and keep depression at bay. For example, exercising. Interrupting my inner critic is no different — just an exercise my mind must do to be healthy, too.

And for me, it’s not enough that I stop the thoughts in their tracks. I find it more helpful to correct my unruly thinking by saying something positive about myself. Like, “I’m a good writer. My kids love me. I’m a kind, generous person,” etc.

It also helps to name your inner critic — this helps separate the negative voice from your own. And at first, I thought I needed to get rid of my inner critic but my therapist has taught me that the inner critic is a part of me and that I need to love her. I initially named my inner critic Ursula, because I thought of a fat, ugly sea witch, but I know now that inner voice needs nurturing, protecting and loving. It may sound weird and I’m not proposing you embrace the mean things your critic tells you but that voice is there for a reason. Maybe it started off trying to keep you safe before it turned negative, I don’t know. But I renamed my inner critic Ann, my grandmother’s name.

I believe I must come to terms with Ann in order to love myself fully. I’m not an expert, but I do challenge you to do the same.

Another thing that helps me with negative self talk is to phrase things to myself the way I speak to my kids (a best friend works, too) when they need comforting. I would never tell them they’re stupid or say something else ugly — never — so why is it OK for me to talk to myself that way?

If you catch yourself thinking mean and hateful things (and can’t change the negative to positive), I highly recommend trying cognitive behavioral therapy. I love therapy and it has helped me grow so much.

For more ways to stop negative thinking, read this Psychology Today article.

Stay in the light.

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This past week was a good week, even though it started off with an ECT. For some reason, that treatment was rougher than usual. I had a lot of confusion and memory loss but maybe that’s a good sign? I don’t know. I’m going to start tracking how long the seizures are and compare it to my subsequent behavior to see if there’s a pattern.

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This past week, I was told that the mental health series I wrote for the local paper would be published on Monday (tomorrow) and I’ve very excited about that. I have six pieces, so they’ll run every Monday for six weeks.

I also was asked to be the main speaker at a suicide prevention symposium, which is being held by my state representative. I’m nervous but very excited about that.

Yesterday, David and I went to the new house we’re building, and they are almost done — thank God! It’s been two years, so I’m very anxious to move in. I started ordering the kids bedroom furniture, and that just got me more excited. I really can’t wait. But now, I have to start to pack, lol.

That’s pretty much it. I hope you guys have a great week. Thanks for reading.

Stay in the light, friends.

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