Sometimes I wake up with a sadness in the pit of my stomach that will linger for days. Last night I dreamt that I lost my mind and tried to kill myself. I woke up in the middle of the night sobbing, the dream felt so real to me. As I write this, I’m not sure if I should share it because the pain is so personal and I still worry about what people will think of me. To feel ashamed of one self is not something I would wish upon anyone. I think about deleting my blog regularly because sometimes I feel juvenile writing about my mental illness like some put upon kid who just wants to complain. I think about people scrolling past a post where I’ve put my heart on my sleeve and I honestly feel kind of stupid. I worry that my writing is poor, that my words carry no meaning.
But still I write. Because I can’t carry everything all of the time. As good as I am at pushing down my feelings, sometimes there’s just not enough room. I write because I feel so unbelievably alone. Because the sadness puts an ocean between myself and my peers. I often feel like I’m out there in the deep blue nothing floating, waiting to be rescued. And then I feel guilty. Guilty for not being happy when I am privileged in so many ways. Guilty for falling short in my friendships. Guilty for not reaching what I have decided is my full potential.
Most of the time I feel like I’m failing. When I don’t make it to the gym. When I sleep in. When I miss a day of work. I admonish myself for not trying harder. I see the person I want to be and every day I’m not that person or I’m not working at being that person I feel like I’ve lost. Sometimes I just feel lost.
I wish I could only write positive posts. But my life isn’t always positive. These days depression doesn’t control my life but I’m always aware that it could rear its ugly head. I don’t think that it will ever really leave me. That doesn’t stop me from trying to move forward. And I’ll keep writing because I know I’m not alone even if it feels like that sometimes.
Falling All Over Again
Today was my first day back at university in over 6 months. Last fall I got over half way through a Shakespeare class before falling into a bout of depression that lasted until this summer. I chose not to go back in the winter but planned on starting my Communications degree in the spring. Unfortunately, my class was cancelled. So here I am trying this again. This is my fourth attempt at post-secondary education. I did a semester of Design Studies before deciding that the program wasn’t for me. A few years later I started an Arts degree but couldn’t decide what I wanted out of my degree and decided to hold off until I had a clearer vision of what I wanted. It turns out that that isn’t my strong suit because I went back to my Arts degree last fall, settling on an English major. I think that the romantic in me who loves books more than anything thought that an English degree would be just the ticket but the realist in me won out and decided that Communications would actually lead me to career I could enjoy.
I have high praise for those who can figure all of this out by 25. I’m crawling closer to 30 and I have to say, I don’t have anything figured out. If someone would just pay me to watch movies and read books I would be set but life rarely works out that way.
Going back to school is a bit terrifying for me. My fear of failure tends to weigh on me so much that functioning day-to-day becomes nearly impossible. Sometimes I feel like my life is just a battle against stress. I’m still learning how to manage it and it’s going to take a lot of work to get me to a point where fear and anxiety don’t dictate the way I live my life. My motto in life has, for the longest time, been to “just get through it”. There are days when I can’t do this because I just don’t have it in me to leave my house. But I’ve been working on having less of these days and pushing myself to get through, to persevere.
If you didn’t know, depression and anxiety are exhausting. Most days I’m exhausted from just being awake. Some days I have a little more gas in the tank and can make it to a spin class or out for a walk. The truth is I sleep like shit and feel like crap more than I’d like to admit but I feel less inclined to apologize for my imperfections these days. My natural instinct is to beat myself up and blame myself for my psychological short comings. I’m sure you can imagine how helpful that is. But I’m working on changing the way I think (which is going to take A LOT of practice). Life is hard enough we might as well be kinder to ourselves.
And so, like everyone else on the planet I’m searching for some balance. Balancing school, work, exercise, and a social life. Plus a handful of personal projects. Here’s hoping that this fall is kind to all of us.
The Secrets Out
I think that everyone has experienced depression in their lifetime. If you want to understand my chronic depression, imagine the darkest time in your life and then imagine feeling that way on and off for 18+ years. I’ve been fighting an internal battle since before I even hit puberty. All of my teenage years and adult life have had a cloud hanging over them. Sometimes that cloud is only overcast but sometimes it’s a tumultuous storm cloud, waiting to pour down and send a tornado ripping through your life. After the storm you’re left trying to pick up the pieces of your life and start over again. And again. And again.
I’ve spent most of my life trying to hide that cloud and consequently my life has, at times, been very lonely. As much as people want to understand, it’s nearly impossible unless you’ve experienced depression yourself. And I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I am tired of the stigma that comes along with mental illness. Even though it’s more common than anyone truly knows, there is still a sense of shame that comes with being mentally ill. I can only speak to the depression and anxiety side of mental health but there are so many other disorders that face even worse stigma. I think that we’re starting to turn a corner when it comes to accepting mental illness for exactly that – an illness. Personally, I’ve only recently stopped the self-blame and accepted that my brain is chemically imbalanced and that it is not my fault. I think if the doubters could see what someone like me has gone through over the years in an attempt to “get better”, they would be less judgemental. You can’t wish depression away. You can’t meditate it away any more than you can meditate cancer away.
I work for a general surgeon and I think that hyperthyroidism is good analogy for how depression is treated. In some cases, surgical intervention is needed to remove the thyroid. Everyone who has had a total thyroidectomy has to take a medication called Synthroid to regulate their body the way that their thyroid did prior to surgery. You have to take this medication for the rest of your life following surgery. Depression requires various treatments to maintain good mental health. Sometimes medication can’t control someone’s depression and they may need to do Electroconvulsive therapy, or ECT for short. ECT requires the patient to be put under general anaesthetic much like one would be put under for surgery.
For a lot of us who suffer from mental illnesses like depression, we will have to take medication for the rest of our lives. The chemical imbalance is sort of like losing your thyroid: your body simply does not function normally.
With all illness, exercise is important in maintaining good mental health. Exercise endorphins are wonderful! I’m still trying to make exercise (or movement as my therapist says) a regular part of my life. I have great examples in my own family of how to lead an active life and the benefits that come with that lifestyle.
Another form of treatment is therapy. I recently started cognitive behavioural therapy, or CBT. I see a therapist once a month and also use a workbook in between visits. CBT is basically a way to train yourself to think differently. Thoughts are after all, just thoughts. Sometimes your depressive thoughts tell you lies, like ‘you’ll never get better’ or ‘you’re worthless’.
What I’m hoping for is that in a year I can share everything that worked for me on my quest to create the life I want. I have never been able to live the life I want. Depression has kept me from finishing school, socializing, getting out of bed, and simply just being happy. Everyone deserves to live a full and happy life.
I’ve had some friends call me brave for sharing my story. I wish I didn’t have to be brave to share what’s going on in my life. And to be honest, the outpouring of support makes bravery almost unnecessary. Let’s be brave together and come out from under our storm clouds. Fuck depression. Fuck anxiety. We deserve happiness.
“Last winter I came to this spot by the river to think about how I would kill myself. I had just had a heartbreaking row with my mom and was feeling completely worthless. Tonight I’m sitting on the same bench talking happily with my husband. 6 months ago it would have been difficult to imagine that I would be doing so well. I just want anyone struggling with mental illness to know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes it’s faint and feels too far away to be real but one day you’ll be soaking up the sun and feeling like yourself again.” via mysecretsorrows Instagram.
FOMO
There’s a lot of living I’ve missed out on. I’ve spent more time at home, afraid to leave the comfort of my “safe place” than I can count. I’ve missed out on time with my friends. I’ve missed out on travel. I’ve missed out on seeing some of my favourite bands. I’ve just missed out on LIVING.
This past winter I had to cancel a trip to BC because the thought of traveling by myself was utterly terrifying. I was so ill that I was completely incapable of traveling one province over alone. Consequently, I missed out on spending some quality time with some of my best friends and seeing my dad, all of whom I hadn’t seen since my wedding.
It’s not the first time I’ve cancelled a trip. It’s difficult for me to think about all of the good times lost to my mental illness. It pisses me off that I can’t do things by myself when I’m really sick, especially when I have such a fierce independent streak. When I was 18 I moved to Paris by myself, even though I knew no one and couldn’t speak much French. It was one of the best experiences of my life. When my mental health declined, I truly felt like I had lost myself. The real me could do just about anything but the sick me needs her hand held more than I’d like to admit. I hate how often I’ve let the fear win. And I also hate how hard I’ve been on myself for being this way.
So few people have gotten to see who I really am. I don’t let a lot of people in because I’m afraid I’ll disappoint them somewhere down the line. I remember being in a good place in my late teens and early twenties. I was fun and mostly carefree (which, of course, comes with youth). I haven’t felt like that person in years. I know that’s the person people want to be around and I’m sure that my close friends have seen my spark fade over the years. I don’t get out much anymore. But I have some pretty amazing friends who have been supportive through all of my ups and downs.
I’m slowly finding myself again. Friday was a prime example of how far I’ve come in a short period of time. After a productive morning meeting with my trainer, my day went down hill. I had intended to leave by early afternoon to get to my Gram’s house 3.5 hours north of the city but thanks to phone tech issues and fabric problems (I’ve been to every Fabricland in the city in the past few weeks), I was starting to unravel. Normally I would have thrown in the towel, said “fuck it”, and cancelled my weekend plans. Instead I did what I had to do to get on the road. I drove up north by myself and the world didn’t end when I was several hours late getting to my Gram’s house.
There are moments like that where I have to stand back and just appreciate how far I’ve come. My life has changed so much in the past month that it’s almost hard to believe that I haven’t been body snatched. I can hardly keep up with myself now because I’m moving at super speed in comparison to the old sloth like speed I kept before. I just feel like there’s no time to waste because I’ve already missed out on so much. There are so many things that I want to do, that I’ve been wanting to do for years and couldn’t. But I’m ready now and that’s pretty fucking awesome.
Oh, Hello
It’s easier to write about being mentally ill when you’re doing well. When you’re really sick, so much so that you can’t leave the house, it’s much more difficult to be open about what you’re going through. But I’ve had a solid 10 day streak of feeling whole and like my true self.
So allow me to introduce myself: My name is Allison. I’ve been diagnosed with chronic clinical depression, anxiety, and occasional agoraphobia. I’ve been mentally ill since I was in elementary school and, at 28, I’m just beginning to find my path to well being. I’m using a “trifecta” of treatment to improve my quality of life. This includes medication (I see a psychiatrist monthly), Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, and exercise. I’ve come as close to suicide as one can get without actually pulling the trigger. Thanks to some new medication I’m finally feeling like myself and not a shell of a human being. I have an incredibly supportive husband and mother who have basically kept me alive. This blog is a place for me to share my journey to wellness and to come out into the light. I’ve hidden this part of who I am from so many people and I don’t want to be ashamed anymore. All I want is to be happy.
Cool? Cool.
My Secret Sorrows 