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When The Bad Thoughts Win

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

Trigger Warning: Suicide, Suicidal Ideation
Please note that this blog was written last week and I am no longer experiencing suicidal ideation.

I was told not to write this blog but I’ve always had trouble being compliant. You see, the past week has been extremely difficult. My depression became unexpectedly worse and I’ve been suicidal. Please know that I have a safety plan and am not a danger to myself or others.

Depression can leave you feeling suicidal, please seek help if that’s the case.

But I feel the need to describe this pain because I know others experience it but few talk about it. It’s too lonely, heavy and dangerous to keep to yourself, no matter how uncomfortable it makes others. Sharing and normalizing these feelings could be life saving, though.

Right now I’m exhausted. I feel completely empty but so full of anxiety, fear and sadness all at once. I just put down the kids and as I walked down the stairs I realized I’m not going to be distracted by them for the next few hours. There’s nothing but pain to feel now. I immediately thought, “What pill can I take to not feel this way?” But the answer is always nothing, no matter what meds you have.

Tomorrow I plan on getting another ECT treatment, the one a couple of weeks ago just didn’t take. I’ll take my meds as prescribed. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll do what I need to do, even though it feels so futile sometimes. I’m holding out for hope and I’m so fortunate to have the support and therapies in place to give me that hope. Some don’t ever find it. There are those who die by suicide, and I would never judge them for that. You can’t judge others for the choices they make when you don’t know the options they had to choose from. You might even think it’s the “easier choice” to let go but you would be wrong. Nothing about mental illness, especially depression, is easy.

This past week hasn’t just been a heaviness on my chest. It’s intrusive thoughts telling myself I’m not good enough. That my family doesn’t need me around to fuck them up. That I should literally kill myself and do everyone a favor. During depressive episodes, these thoughts, sometimes worse, are on repeat in my head. And it is so, so hard to say, “Stop!” You get to the point where you think, “Which voice is right??”

But I do know. I’ve been through enough to know that my lying ass brain is just that — a liar. If you are in that headspace where you don’t have the clarity to see what’s a lie and what’s the truth, seek outside counsel. Ask your friends, (maybe) your family, call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline. No matter what crisis looms, you will be OK. It may hurt some more and get uncomfortable but that just means growth is coming. You are valuable and loved and needed on this Earth. I turned to my beloved mom’s group to hear this myself, and I’m so glad I did because their words helped me push through.

I can’t promise your pain will ever go away — mine hasn’t yet — but leaving this world before God calls you home will only bring pain to your loved ones. I’d like to hope all depression sufferers can tolerate the pain just long enough to find a support system, resources such as a good psychiatrist, therapist, medications and develop self-care practices. It’s also good to have a safety plan, in case you “come off the rails” and if that does happen, go easy on yourself.

Again, I’m not saying any of this is easy and I definitely don’t have all the answers. I probably won’t ever but maybe we need to ask ourself different questions…?

This shit is hard and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone but it has made me stronger (sometimes annoyingly so). I have to let go of the fact that my brain isn’t “normal,” that I’ll have a life-long struggle with this disease and that sometimes I might feel like dying. That’s OK, because most of the time I want to live, and what a sweet life I lead.

I’ll leave you with something one of my mom friends said to me when I admitted I was suicidal. I hope it helps you as much as it did me.

“You are so loved. So valued. I know your heart hurts. I know your mind lies to you. Trust me when I say you are worthy, loved and freaking amazing. You are needed here.”

And I am. Thank you for everyone helping me out when I was so low.

If you or someone you know is struggling, please direct them to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or visit their site here.

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Me crying, struggling with depression
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Misconceptions About Depression

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

A few years ago I posted an Instagram photo with me crying and a caption that said, “This is the face of depression. Be kind to others because you don’t know what they’re going through.” That photo upset some of my friends because I hadn’t really discussed my depression before in such an open way. To them I was happy and a goof ball. What most didn’t see was I was moody, miserable and even suicidal at times.

Though I was diagnosed with depression 17 years ago, it was after my babies were born that it really got bad — and scary. I had dealt with postpartum and post-weaning depression but had inadequate psychiatric care.

On the outside I was posting pics of my kids in cute outfits and everything online told a completely different story.

Many people mask their pain for different reasons. I had the idea that depression wasn’t talked about, that having depression makes you weak. That it was a matter of willpower. I didn’t want to be the depressed mom, I wanted to be the mom that does it all, which is a dangerous and unrealistic expectation for anyone. That stigma that I was buying into keeps a lot of people silent about their struggle. It can be especially hard in certain cultures, such as Asian cultures (read more about that here.)

There are definitely common misconceptions about what depression looks like. In my case, I’m not sad every minute of everyday. There are good and bad days, just like anyone else. Sometimes my depression manifests in other ways, such as overeating or binge eating; sleeping too much; having a short fuse; or partaking in other unhealthy behavior.

I was freed of the heavy weight depression holds when I admitted to all my friends and family that I went to a psychiatric hospital in 2019. I even wrote a forum piece about my experience for the local paper. It was not easy, in fact it was a little terrifying knowing that essentially the whole city knew my secret, but like I said, it set me free. I just didn’t care about anyone’s opinion anymore. I know it can be annoying when I plug my blogs or pieces in the paper but I’m hoping they will reach someone who needs to hear what I’m saying — that it’s OK having depression and there is no shame in it. Those who I’ve met who struggle with depression are the strongest people I know. We are fighters. We are survivors.

Ideally, everyone should be able to talk about their mental illness but I understand why people don’t. It’s terrifying being vulnerable, especially when there’s a chance someone will react negatively. But I urge everyone to reach out, even if it’s to one person. You’d be surprised how free it makes you feel, and by telling a friend or family member, you’re lightening your load. Your support system can help you carry that load, and you should take help where you can get it.

If you can’t reach out to someone, please know there are several online resources that can help. To learn more about depression or find resources visit the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. They have a 24-hour helpline.

Other Misconceptions About Depression:

  1. “It’s all in your head.” – Depression is a psychological and biological disease. You have no control over it, so if someone tells you to “buck up” just know that the problem is not with you — it’s with them and their lack of understanding. You don’t have to pretend or fake it, just do you.
  2. Depression = being really sad. – Sure, you get sad when you’re depressed but someone equating it to “just being sad” is trivializing your feelings and your disease.
  3. Depression means you’re weak – I already touched on this but it’s worth repeating — I think people with depression are so strong. Depression can wreak havoc in all areas of your life. Some people deal with suicidal ideation daily and others have to tap into a reserve of strength and energy just to take a shower (me!) or go to work. Often that reserve is depleted.
  4. Depression is not treatable – There are a variety of medications that are safe and effective in treating depression. There might be side effects and it might take a while before finding the right combination, but (most of) patients feel better. There are also therapies you can try, such as talk therapy, TMS (Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation), ketamine infusion therapy, and my favorite, ECT (electroconvulsive therapy). Please consult your doctor before trying any medication or other treatments.

These myths are damaging, but again, please reach out if you are struggling. It gets better.

If you are suicidal, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or visit their site for chat support.

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Mental Illness on the Front Lines

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

A dear friend texted me the other day, and after chatting a bit, I asked how she was doing. She’s an ER nurse in Florida, so I was concerned. Florida, if you don’t already know, is a hotspot for coronavirus and the governor is incompetent, in my opinion. This was her reply: 

It’s bizarre and sad. The first wave was mainly elderly folks from nursing homes mixed with regular people; some very sick, some not. In the beginning we had a tent outside where we tested people with minor symptoms, when it declined they took it down. The numbers we saw in the beginning don’t even compare to now. Every room with a door has a COVID patient. Four units have been converted and they’re full. Our governor was actually at the hospital today talking about how everything is fine. It’s not fine. This new wave is younger, mainly Hispanic; people who are low income and work either illegally or in cramped factories, they live in multi generation homes, so they all get sick. I feel relatively safe though, we have enough PPE. It’s just crazy. The saddest part is nursing home patients; they literally haven’t seen their families for months, even if they don’t have it, if they come from somewhere that has people who are positive, no visitors. I try to find beauty and love in tragedy when I can. 

Her response broke my heart. I’ve read that it’s bad but to have my sweet friend recount the chaos and horror just shook me. Can you imagine what first responders, nurses and doctors feel being bombarded with sick patients who can’t see their family and those who die? A local friend who is a doctor said her friends cry in their cars after working a shift because there are so many codes. 

Unfortunately, there is no where you can go to escape the pandemic, the divisiveness that’s occurring or the uncertainty. Corpus Christi is especially bad and has made national news, for all the wrong reasons. We have more cases than the larger cities (Dallas, Houston, Austin) per capita. Since March, 85 babies have tested positive for COVID-19. 

My Florida friend also told me that she had to start taking antidepressants because of stress and trauma of it all. Thankfully, the meds are helping and I’m so glad she reached out for help, but I couldn’t help but think of Dr. Lorna Breen, the ER doctor in New York who killed herself. She had no history of depression, other mental illness or suicidal ideation, according to her father. I can’t say for sure why she killed herself but I imagine the weight of so many people getting sick and dying was too heavy. Not only were people dying, but at that time, medical providers in New York struggled with a shortage of personal protective equipment. Dr. Breen also contracted the coronavirus before her death. 

The trauma of everything she faced every day could’ve changed her brain. Trauma has a way of doing that – just think about our vets who suffer with PTSD and depression. Trauma can also cause feelings of despair, and right now, who isn’t in despair? A 2013 study done by researchers at the University of Liverpool showed that traumatic life events are the single biggest cause of anxiety and depression, followed by a family history of mental illness and income and education levels.

It’s enough that our front lines workers have to worry about contracting coronavirus, but it can be just as bad developing depression (or other mental illness). Both diseases are ravaging and both can kill. I don’t really know what I can do to help these heroes other than bring awareness to mental health and the consequences of untreated mental illness. It’s overwhelming and I hope lawmakers will keep all of this in mind, because make no mistake, this will be a real problem — one that can’t be ignored. America’s supposed to be the greatest country in the world — so what does it say if we don’t take care of those who take care of us? It’s happened before.

After texting me about the chaos and death that surrounded my friend, she left me with this: “It’s so unfair that what should be an exciting time is tainted by all this but find the joy in it, too.” 

My friend is so strong and has such a good heart. She’s doing God’s work and she is more than worth protecting and taking care of.

G, if you’re reading, I love you and cherish our friendship. I’m so proud of you. Just keep swimming, my love.

If you know somebody struggling with mental illness or suicidal ideation, please direct them to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

To learn more about depression, please visit the National Institute of Mental Health.

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Beautiful girl, you can do hard things

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

urlMy 5-year-old daughter is sensitive and she can be anxious – she’s her mother’s daughter, for sure. When she does get anxious I try to calm her down with deep breathing and I started repeating one mantra over and over – you can do hard things. Does it help her? Maybe but it definitely helps me.

It’s so simple but it hits me deep in my core. My depression (and anxiety) just crushes me, the weight of it feels so heavy that I can’t move. But the thing is, I can do hard things.

In the past five years I’ve given birth to two kids who are 23 months apart. I’ve battled postpartum depression. I went to a mental hospital for six weeks. I started ECT therapy and have had more than 20 treatments – that’s 20 times under anesthesia and 20+ seizures. I have been suicidal many times but I’ve clawed my way back to me. I’m proudly scrappy.

I will have depression forever, and I’m sure there will be dark days ahead but I can do hard things. That’s the mindset and philosophy I want to pass down to Isla (and Eli).

I try my best to hide my depressed self from the kids but I know it seeps through at times. I just hope they remember how strong I am and how much I love them. I hope they never really know how sad I can be. I want them to know I have a big heart and big emotions, and that’s ok. That they are cut from the same cloth, that they can tap into their grit and resolve.

It’s easy to give in to depression, to the despair and apathy that accompanies it. What’s not easy is to do it in front of your kids. They’re always there, watching and imitating. While it’s scary to think I could have another depressive episode, I know I can get through it. I can fight. I can overcome.

I can do hard things. And so can you.

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One-year Anniversary

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

A year ago this month I went to the Menninger Clinic for inpatient psychiatric care for six long weeks. The months leading up to my trip to Houston weren’t good ones. I was emotional, suicidal and so damn sad. I had been labeled with treatment resistant depression, thus none of my meds were working. I also had tried TMS and ketamine infusion treatments but it didn’t lighten my load at all.

I was scared. Mostly because I feared I wouldn’t be around to watch my kids grow up. My husband, therapist and psychiatrist all agreed Menninger was the next step. After going over my history, meds and different treatments, I was told I was a prime candidate for ECT (electroconvulsive therapy). It took weeks for me to wean off all my meds – an antidepressant, antipsychotic, benzodiazepines, anti seizure meds and Ambien.

While I was weaning off my meds, I underwent psychiatric testing and went to classes about how to deal with mental illness. I also had to go to the classes on addiction because I wasn’t great at taking the prescribed benzodiazepine the way I was supposed to, to put it mildly. When we weren’t taking classes, we were required to do therapy and meet with psychiatrists. The classes – and the teachers – were all very helpful. My diagnoses are Major Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Dysthymia and Avoidant Personality Disorder.

I became close with a couple of patients who were in the same boat asI was. I still talk to them; sometimes it seems like they’re the only ones who understand what I went through since they were right there with me.

The facility was nice. It should be for how expensive it was, but hey, it did save my life. What stuck with me is that there were not rods to hang your clothes on, no drawers and no shower curtain rod – nothing a patient could try to hang himself from. At night we could shut our doors but the staff did checks every 15 minutes. The whole night. Every door leading outside was locked so patients couldn’t leave. We couldn’t have our phones but they offered cell phones for patients to use. We also had access to computers where all social media sites were blocked. It was a hard adjustment but it kind of made me feel safe, cocooned really. The girls had one wing, boys another and we all shared one common area with couches and a TV. On the weekends, we did movie nights and ordered food from outside the facility. Although it was scary and heart wrenching to be away from my family, I felt supported by the friends I made and never felt alone, despite my depression and anxiety.

When it was time to start ECT I don’t remember being scared, although it sounds scary to me now. I had three treatments a week for three weeks before starting a maintenance phase. At first, I got awful headaches after each treatment but those eventually subsided. By far, the worst side effect of the ECTs is the memory loss. Usually, it only affects patients around the time of treatment, meaning you might forget things that happened the day of treatment. But lucky me, my memory loss goes back years. I’ve forgotten people’s names, and sometimes, entire people. I still can’t remember how I met the majority of my Facebook friends. My short term memory has taken a hit, too. I can’t figure out how and what my brain is actually going to remember.

But as bad as memory loss sucks, the ECTs saved my life. And for that, I’m grateful. I relish in spending time with my kids and watching them grow. David and I enjoy each other more now, too. My mental illness takes a toll on him and I’m very thankful for his patience, love and support.

I won’t lie – there have been dark days in the past year and it hasn’t always been easy. My brain is not reliable and I have to remember during anxiety attacks or depressive episodes that it lies. It tells me I’m not good enough, that I should want to die, that there’s no way out. I ride out the pain best I can and turn to my support system – my doctor, therapist, best friends, parents and then to more ECT treatments. It’s not a perfect system but here I am.

I somehow learned when I was young that having mental illness made you weak, but after my experience I know that’s not true. It couldn’t be further than the truth but the stigma surrounding depression is certainly real. I could have easily overdosed on my meds or died any other way by suicide, but it was strength that saved me and what keeps me going now. I’ve been battling my brain for a long time – decades even – and I know I have more to go but I’m proud of the work I’ve done.

My brain has betrayed me (many times) but my dear, hardworking heart never will. Thank you to all who have supported me.

If you are suffering from depression and need help, the National Alliance on Mental Illness visit www.nami.org

If you are suicidal, please call the Suicide Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

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Fight Like Hell

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I write a lot about having depression and reaching out to get support but it has come to my attention that when I’m the one struggling I don’t reach out often. Maybe to my mom, husband and best friend but with everyone else I put on a happy face while inside it feels like I’m dying. I think it’s important I talk about the dark while I’m in it.

It started a couple weeks ago. I wasn’t being honest with myself about how things were going. I happen to have a therapy appointment and one with my psychiatrist that week so I let it all hang out. It felt good to come clean and it was decided I would get an ECT treatment ASAP. I scheduled it for next Friday so in the meantime I made an impromptu visit to my parents’ lake house. The kids were dying to get out of the house and I figured it would do me good as well. While the kids had a blast, I didn’t fare as well. I can remember one night eating steak with my parents and I was staring at the bright pink steak knife that cut the steak so well. I wondered how it would feel down my arms. Later, I told my mom to just hide the knives.

I decided to chat on the suicide lifeline messaging system. The lady was asking my history and as I told her that I had major depressive disorder, anxiety, I’ve done ECTs, been to a psychiatric facility, etc. She the said, “Wow, you’re a fighter.” Though I know it’s the truth, it’s not something I’ve heard a lot through my life. I’ve heard I’m lazy, that I’m basically useless, but not a fighter.

But I fight everyday. For my kids, my husband, my family, my amazing friends who support me no matter how depressed I am or how unwashed my hair is. And I know sometimes I’ll fall back on the idea that being mentally ill makes you weak, but I can’t stress enough how that’s total and utter bullshit. And then I’ll remember that I’m a Phoenix rising from the ashes, that I’ll regenerate and will continue to be born again. Because I’m a fighter and I will continue to fight like hell, even though it sucks, even though it’s hard, even though it tires my soul. If anything, I need to show my children that there are many ways to be strong. And that it’s ok if you’re different than others. It’s even ok if you need to go to a mental health hospital. And that self care is a necessity and doesn’t make you selfish. I’ve tried pouring from an empty cup and it got me nowhere (technically it got me to the mental hospital) so even though my journey is a messy one, my kids can still appreciate it one day. I hope.

If you need help, I highly recommend either calling the National Suicide Lifeline or using their chat function. Call them at 1-800-273-8255

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When the Darkness Comes

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I can feel it coming. My body feels weighted down, I’m irritable and even more sensitive, which is saying a lot. It’s sort of like PMS but it’s more than being moody and there’s no relief in a few days. Sometimes I just want to die.

I can remind myself how lucky and privileged I am, who I need to live for but the pain is deep and distorts everything I know to be true. It’s a scary feeling and I hate feeling out of control. Despite having a safety plan (a plan of action for when or if you’re suicidal), I don’t feel safe. There have been times I have called the National Suicide Prevention Hotline and tried to use the chat feature but there were more than 70 people also waiting for help and support. I could have called the hotline but I resigned myself to sleep.

Things looked better in the morning but it was still creepily dark in my head. I didn’t want to get out of bed but had to take the kids to school. I couldn’t shower. I couldn’t brush my teeth. I forced myself to take my pills and retreated to the comfort of my bed.

After a couple of (weepy) days, I did feel the fog lift but it took awhile to return to “normal.” That’s the scary part of depression – one of them, anyway. You can do everything right – take your pills, see your doctors, see your therapist, put real pants on and shower but depression will find you.

So will anxiety. My depression and anxiety go hand and hand. Mine makes me obsess about the weirdest things – things that have happened years ago, hypothetical tragedies that could happen to friends/family, bad things happening. Sometimes there are no thoughts behind it. It’s just there, a heavy weight on my chest making it hard to breathe.

Since going to the Menninger Clinic these symptoms have gotten better but not all together gone. When I can muster the strength to combat my overwhelming sadness and panic, there are things I can do to help.

  • I take my anxiety pills
  • I get under my weighted blanket
  • I listen to guided mediations or favorite music
  • Write

But if you’re in a scary situation that you can’t get control of, please call the National Suicidal Prevention hotline at 1-800-273-8255 or call your city/county’s mental health resources to see what’s available to you. And you can always call your primary physician. There is help out there and I know sometimes you don’t feel you need help but that’s just the depression talking. People care.

I’d you’d like to list your positive coping skills, please feel free to in the comments.

Stay in the light, my friends.

 

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When I Hit Rock Bottom

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

About two years ago, I felt great. I was taking two HIIT (high intensity interval training) classes a week and when I wasn’t doing that I was training to run a 5K, a feat for me because I hate running. I felt so strong, so energetic and proud of myself. I was doing hard things, things I didn’t think I could do. I was a role model to my kids.

In June 2017 I ran the 5K. I was happy. A couple weeks later I started to feel bad. I wasn’t sick but I started to lose momentum with my workouts. Things that were once easy or doable became hard. Waking up in the morning was hard. I didn’t know what was going on. I knew I had depression but I was doing so well. It had been well over a year since I had Eli, it couldn’t be postpartum depression – I was over that.

I took whatever energy I could muster and put it toward the kids, which meant I suffered more. Showers seemed near impossible. I stopped working out. I just wasn’t myself.

In October, I hit rock bottom. I had suicidal thoughts. I was crying at every little thing. I felt anxious all the time and my marriage was suffering. Thankfully, my mother in law was helping with the kids.

During a school break, we took the kids up to my parents’ house. I had also made an appointment with a new psychiatrist who specialized in women’s mental health in Southlake. My then current pyschiatrist wasn’t cutting it. While my parents’ and the kids were at my parents’ lake house, my husband and I got into a huge fight and I just lost it. I was sobbing uncontrollably and suicidal. This next part is hard – I knew where some hydocodone was and I had a plan to take some but I didn’t want my mom to find my body. I called my best friend and she urged me to go to the ER.

I waiting for hours at the ER for them to transfer me to a psychiatric hospital. Around midnight, hours after I’d arrived, I was taken by ambulance to a psych ward at another hospital. I was there two and a half days. The psychiatrist there was a total dick. He wouldn’t release me until he “talked to my husband about my illness” and didn’t listen to anything I said. Because I had an appointment with the psychiatrist in Southlake, he ended up letting me go after talking to my husband of course.

When I met with Dr. Johnson, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. She diagnosed me with Major Depressive Disorder, PMDD, generalized anxiety disorder and social anxiety. My old doctors just said I was depressed and never spent more than 15 minutes with me. Dr. Johnson spent more than an hour talking to me. She put me on medications I had never heard of, that my doctors never mentioned, and I left the office crying tears of happiness.

I did get better, I’m better than I was that awful October but I’m treatment resistant, so medication can only go so far for me. That’s why I try alternative treatments like TMS, ketamine infusions and soon the ketamine nasal spray. Right now, I’m definitely not suicidal but I have to struggle though days, some more than others.

If you’re suicidal, please go to the nearest ER or tell your doctor – any doctor. There is help and it does get better. You can also call the suicide hotline at 1-800-273-8255. Someone is there 24 hours a day to help you.

Thanks for listening. This blog was a hard one to write.

 

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What do you have to be sad about?

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

“What do you have to be sad about?”

For me, this is the most frequent, and annoying, question I get when I tell someone I have major depression and anxiety. I get that it’s hard for someone to understand all the intricacies that come along with mental illness but come on, people. I guess that’s why I’m here – to educate.

I’m aware I live a very good life and for that I’m grateful, but it’s totally not about that. My brain is telling me to be sad and feel worthless. The disease takes over my brain. Neurons misfire and god knows what else goes on up there. Doctors aren’t even sure why exactly or how depression occurs but they do believe certain factors are at play when it comes to mental illness including:

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Brain chemistry – Unruly neurotransmitters. Neurotransmitters are brain chemicals that interact with neurocircuits. Research now suggests that the function of these chemicals is interacting differently with the circuits that affect mood stability, according to the Mayo Clinic. These disruptions can also create problems with depression and treatment.

Hormones – This one is easy to understand. The Mayo clinic cited many different types of hormonal changes, especially for a woman, including pregnancy, post-partum (we’ll get to that one day) and menopause. It also mentions thyroid conditions such as hyper – or hypothyroidism (which I also have).

Last but not least is the question – is depression genetic? Scientists are starting to find that one is more likely to suffer from depression if a blood relative also has the condition. A study in the American Journal of Psychiatry found that women had a 42 percent chance of hereditary depression. Men had a 29% chance.

So even scientists and doctors aren’t certain what exactly causes mental illness. It’s not 100 percent known how anti-depressants work. What is known is these factors can affect anyone – mental illness does not discriminate. It doesn’t care what your socioeconomic background is. It’s not just “homeless people roaming on the streets”. It’s not just those who are in psychiatric facilities. It’s 1 in 5 adults in the U.S. It’s not an imaginary problem – it’s an epidemic. It’s a homemaker with two beautiful children and very supportive husband. Believe me, it’s someone you know.

Each year more than 44,965 Americans commit suicide, according to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. It’s the 10th leading cause of death in the U.S. and costs our country $69 billion each year – the cost isn’t what bothers me, I just thought I’d throw it in there.

If we don’t start educating each other and talking about the repercussions of non-treatment of the mentally ill, we are failing our children and ourselves.

That’s what I have to be sad about.

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Unruly Neurons

by Heather Loeb
written by Heather Loeb

I started this blog because I’m fed up with the bullshit surrounding mental illness.

What compelled me to start writing and blogging was when fashion icon Kate Spade (and later celebrity chef and humanitarian Anthony Bourdain) died of suicide. I was so upset about Ms. Spade’s death. Not only did she take her own life but also she didn’t didn’t seek help because she allegedly thought it would hurt her brand.

I was also pissed. I started pounding on my keyboard and opining a letter to the editor to our local paper, the Caller-Times. Here was a wealthy woman who had the means to seek treatment anywhere in the world – treatment that isn’t always available to the average depressed person but she was afraid of what others would think. The stigma of depression is what killed her and is what has to stop. We have to start talking about depression like it’s the deadly disease it is. It’s no different than diabetes, lupus or even cancer. I don’t mean to be dramatic but it’s not just two celebrities who died. I need to confirm this through Veterans’ Affairs, but 22 veterans die each day by committing suicide. It’s an epidemic, people. One that’s largely ignored and considered taboo.

What I don’t get is it affects 1 in 5 Americans – that’s about 44 million people – yet it’s all still “hush, hush” if someone has more than just the blues. Why does this bother me so much? Because unfortunately I have skin in this dark, ugly game. For more than 15 years I have been fighting depression and anxiety. My exact diagnoses is treatment-resistant major depressive disorder (MDD) with generalized anxiety (GA) and social anxiety. I’ve also been diagnosed with Premenstrual Disphoric Disorder or PMDD. It’s a real party.

The worst thing for me about having all these fun acronyms is that for the longest time I didn’t tell anyone, even my family, because of the stigma. People think if you’re depressed or have anxiety that you’re weak. That you have no willpower. That you can’t simply think yourself better, that you’re just lacking fresh air and sunshine. But it’s far from the truth. I’m one of the strongest women I know. It’s hard to go down a deep, dark hole where you feel hopeless and not so much like living anymore. It’s hard admitting you need help, and with that, pull yourself back into the light. It’s nothing but true grit to struggle through each day just to get up and do it again and hope for better. For all of you going through that now – know that I’m here, I understand and that this is a safe place.

I’m Heather. I’m 34 years old, happily (yes, you can be happy and depressed at the same time) married with two children – one girl and one boy. I’m a decent wife, great mother and a pretty good friend. But I do have unruly, misfiring neurons that can make this life pretty hard to lead this time.

Welcome.

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