So much going on

For those that didn't read what I wrote so many years ago, the tl-dr version is that I had what some may call a nervous breakdown. That isn't used as a formal diagnostic or clinical term these days but it's the best way to describe what happened to me. I don't think I've ever been the same as I was before that year or so that consumed me whole. I spent my whole life trying to normalize what I later reflected on as anxiety and depression present in me at a really young age. I would tell myself that I had days where I was sick, that I ate something bad, anything to explain a panic attack as anything but a panic attack. 

 I've been silent as hell on here and many may perceive that as a good thing. I began blogging when my mental illness literally took over my mind and body. I wrote it all out as a means for me to be able to remember what I was going through so I'd learn from it (hopefully!) and never forget the hardships I overcame. 

Perception

You know, finally admitting to myself and to people around me that my anxiety and depression are ongoing mental illnesses...conditions that cannot be cured, but can be managed with guidance...it's all been surprising to say the least. I found out that people tend to fall into different categories pertaining to the support they're capable of giving and the response they're willing to receive. I despise labeling people and have an issue in general with our society's constant need to fit things into a box and classify them...but I digress. This is simply a noted pattern and I would love to know from other sufferers if they share in this. 

I have received unconditional support and love from the places I didn't necessarily expect it. Friendships that once were on the backburner because no one had "the time" to catch up were rekindled because of us both realized that life is too short. Me making peace with folks I conflicted with in past years did wonders for my soul and, while some don't see the value in revisiting an incident one barely remembers, I say the same for holding onto bad feelings when neither party remembers why they're doing it. 

I have received messages of love and kindness from old high school acquaintances, college confidantes, family and former co-workers. No matter the source, this kind of understanding and ability to hold space for a person is vital when someone is working to recover from a total mind and body meltdown, and the sort of post-trauma feelings that follow. 

Others have compassion and do care, but they can't handle "it." I lost some people in my life as I have dealt with this recovery process over the past 1.5 years or so...and those losses were the ones I expected the least. Some folks didn't understand and didn't care to; others were too busy to make space for one more person to love. I lost close friends and people I trusted would be there. It could be that my investment in the bond we shared was stronger all along, or it could be that people lack the ability and/or desire understand. Some want to, but can't wrap their head around it all. Why can't she just get over it? Let me school those of you that ask that: it's the same way you can't just get over the flu. It takes time to move on from and repair from a core-shaking life event, especially one that can be invisible to the outside world. And it takes as long as it takes to feel well again, frustrating as that may be for both sufferer and supporters. 

Then there are folks that treat anxiety and depression sufferers as though, maybe they'll catch the illness if they hang around too long. They can't handle the obvious and palpable sadness that a loved one goes through even when the worst of it may already be over. They use logic to try and figure out why this happens, but there is no logic to depression and anxiety-related musings. Sufferers are perfectly intelligent and logical individuals, But the illness is not. If you can power through the initial negativity a sufferer may express, you'd be surprised to find that many, at their core, haven't given up on all of their dreams...they just don't know how to get back to a place of solace and are still learning how to be. And it takes a village sometimes. But there is no room in that village for those that are unwilling to be a member. Or who don't trust a sufferer to to be a good friend in the ways they know how and are able to as they recover. To come to grips with others' lack of understanding while making an honest effort to get out of bed, work and live each day is difficult and disheartening. No, this is not just a phase. It doesn't define me but it's part of the package. In the long run, it's for the best to keep on going. And I am not the one that misses out when an unsupportive friend is lost.

I have been unusually open about what I endure because the stigma of mental illness is something that shouldn't exist. Plain and simple. Those that break their wrist or catch a physical illness get cards, care packages (to be fair, a dear and wonderful friend has done this for me, and the effect is profound), flowers and the like). Depression is ongoing and many people keep things inside because of that damn stigma. So no one sends depression flowers or a "get well soon!" anxiety disorder casserole. But us anxious folks grieve the life we feel like we can't have every day. Research shows we also tend to be a sensitive bunch, so loved ones tend to lean on us for support because they anticipate us being the pillar once again. But why can't the pillar lose steadiness? What happens when we slip and fall for a period in our lives and we encounter folks that don't hold space? 

I blog and talk and get up each day and address all of this until I am blue in the face because it is, of course, cathartic. It is also essential. When I had one of my early breakdowns in college that few knew about, I was prescribed a medicine by a psychiatrist that was meant for schizophrenics. It turned me into, for all intents and purposes, a vegetable. That was 10 short years ago. Mental health has made great strides, but there is much more work to be done to this day. It's a task I am willing and passionate to contribute to. 

I also want to set a precedent. Treating an anxiety or depression suffer without validation is not OK. Ever. Judging those that go to the dark places in their mind and calling them selfish for not "getting over it" is an unfair fight when there's likely so much more on the table than someone who openly discloses having those feelings leads on. It's easy to generate an opinion on something when you haven't walked a mile in one's shoes. I am at the least judgmental place I've been in my life; being knocked down a peg or seven emotionally does that to a person. 

Preaching one's stance on medicines and suggesting that a sufferer find God is not your place. That is work to be done by the depressed individual with the guidance from a chosen counselor, medical professional and support system of friends/family. Different treatments work for different people and it takes some years to find the right plan. I may still be a work in progress regarding that, but so far, so good. Never judge a person's plan just because it wouldn't be the one you choose for yourself. Unfortunately there is no vaccine or antibiotic for any of this because it remains poorly understood...by sufferers and supporters alike. Yet news outlets predict that my ailments and ones like it will account for 50% of disability claims in the next five years. Sit on that for a minute and really think about it. Think about the world we live in and our society. Think about how all of this isn't weakness. It's real and it hurts, both physically and emotionally. 

My ramblings can end here for the time being. But please, if you take anything away from this, let it be this: don't judge someone unless you've walked a mile...

One thing I am able to say about the experience of suffering a nervous breakdown and working to recover from its aftermath without the promise of a concrete timeline that promises that the suffering will stop and I will feel "normal" again...is that the experience is a humbling one. I think twice before I interpret others' demeanors and wonder if, like me, they're hurting silently inside. I work hard to not do the exact thing that countless individuals have unintentionally done to me. I make sure not to discredit the feelings of others or diminish their pain. People make me angry on my worst days when they act inconsiderate, but I remind myself that in most instances, they don't know about what I am dealing with, and conversely, I don't know what they have going on in their world. So we exist in a world where we as a society don't always humble ourselves and consider others' circumstances. I can say with great confidence that I make a sound effort to do this even on days where it's difficult to function.

Yes, you read that right. For someone suffering from a mental health diagnosis rooted in anxiety and/or depression, it can be difficult to function. Much of a sufferer's day is spent trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. Eating, maintaining steady breathing so as not to incite panic, sleeping, working, interacting with others...doing all of this while in a state of constant "look over the shoulder"-ness. I am constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering if I'll break down again, or more likely, if I will have a panic attack. The medicine helps and therapy offers excellent coping mechanisms, but I am wired to be anxious. It's hard to be present and enjoy life when your panic is at a high point.

The Basics of Being Anxious (and a long-overdue update)

For one reason or another, maybe because it's been too long since I wrote in here...I feel compelled to put work aside for a brief minute or two and update y'all on what's been going on in what I now refer to as #anxietyworld...maybe this will catch on with the masses!

Last time I wrote...well, I can't recall the date. But it's been too long, as I said before. But I can say with confidence that I am somehow better now than the last time I wrote. On some days, it may not feel like this. But on most days, even those bad ones, I know that each day it's a little better. When I broke down in 2014, I was a floor heap, barely able to engage in at-home therapy sessions and scared to move. Scared to leave my apartment. Scared of everything. I grew fearful of things over the course of a year or two due to my not acknowledging so many things in my life that bothered me deeply. My life didn't feel authentic. Everything looked amazing from the outside, I'll bet. In the early stages of what I now recognize as my worst nervous breakdown ever, I had quite a few folks (mainly former coworkers) say things to me like, "Well, you definitely could have fooled me," or "I would have never guessed that you suffer from GAD."

Something good to know if you ever meet someone who deals with anxiety/depression/panic

I imagine that many of my posts aren't exactly uplifters. I have lots of days that, in my book for where I am at, are good ones...but one thing I never anticipated was that, in the year or so that followed my mental breakdown, I would experience some of the worst days, weeks, months of my life. I want to preface this all by iterating how thankful I am to have a strong core family, recently reestablished connections with other dear family members and rekindled ties with some acquaintances/friends from my past, as well as some new friendships that emerged. I am lucky for that.

Maybe it's not being in my 20s anymore or the enormity of realizing what my breakdown kept me from doing for that year, but it's dawned on me, the grief process and how it really works. I feel that I have been fortunate in not having lost an immediate family member or a best friend, but I have lost folks steadily over the course of a long period of time and I never really stopped to consider it aside from initial sadness and the societal show of "moving on" and "being strong." Students I used to work with, parents of dear friends present and past, friends of my own, two really lovely grandparents, and most recently, my dear aunt, have all left, most of them too soon. I think her passing has certainly taught me that, not only for myself, but for others, that grief is certainly not a linear experience and is unique to each person. I also note that it feels very much like actual ocean waves....sometimes, the waters are calm and other times, I feel like I can't breathe.

I still haven't figured out yet why this happens, the losses...the ones that don't seem to make sense. No death is happy, but I wonder why people die before old age hits and why freak accidents happen. I do believe in God, very much, but am not sure as to why s/he takes people away from us on Earth at random. Through this whole thing, I have learned how to be a more compassionate person, i.e. people that lose something/someone can't just get over it and the pace at which that happens is not to be determined by the outside world. I also know the deep feeling of regret, of not having spent more time with folks before the left, not having had the chance to say goodbye. Even in the ending of relationships, it is a death of sorts because you rarely know that the last time you talk with someone is actually the very last and final time. I think not taking those little moments with people for granted is important. Heart feels a little heavy tonight with it having been over a year since my Aunt Roe died so excuse my ramblings....so excuse my rambling. But take care of each other and yourselves. Time does help, but it never really ever stops hurting. Be compassionate.

Depression difficulty

Some of you may see the title for this and think, gee, if she talks about her fucking mental health issues one more time, I am going to flip my crap. I get you. Believe me. It may hurt for the people around me to hear about it, but I will bet you good money that for me, and anyone else who suffers from anxiety and depression,  it is also no picnic. I want to share candidly with folks what I deal with in a more comprehensive manner, perhaps go beyond the standard "this is difficult" and "I feel depressed."

But while we're there, let's begin with that. The depressed part. Many people say every day that they feel depressed because of general unpleasantries; think financial issues, catching a cold, feeling overworked, not having a date this past Saturday, etc. And in no way do I diminish any of the feeling that folks feel when going through that. But depression is markedly different. Feelings about a finite circumstance, while certainly notable and hard to handle at times, are just that: finite. Anyone dealing with situational sadness know that there will be a change at some point and can actually see it happening. The next paycheck will be big and help pay some of the bills. A Tinder match finally came through that appears to be a good one. Yoy get the picture.

Depression, and I cannot express this enough, is very, very different. It is an ongoing illness. It is not something a sufferer can cure but must learn how to control in order to overcome. And doing that is like trying to engage in a spinning class while in quicksand and crying. It is my natural leaning to see things with a depressive lens and to expect that, at any moment, the rug will be pulled from under me (props to anxiety and panic disorder, my clinical diagnoses, for that).  Depressed persons also deal with a litany of other issues, many that well-intentioned friends and family try to help with, but often exacerbate. Thus far, numerous things have been suggested. Some are good ideas and have either proven helpful already or will likely help if I can manage to get out of the mental quicksand and try. Think medications (you can keep your feelings to yourself if you don't believe in it, millions of other folks' lives have been saved due to a healthy regimen, myself included), therapy (it's hard to find a good fit and I think I still struggle with this one, as I often need to change it up as I go through different life seasons), acupuncture (hey, if it worked for my little doggie, I am a believer), and exposure therapy. That's a big one and one I hang my hat on proudly. Over the past year or so, I went to a wedding, suffered through a major loss, moved to another town (the first I have never had any emotional attachment to), started going out in public again (and as of 2015, started going alone), became comfortable with my much-missed road trips and started to eat healthier. I even found out, through lots of self-advocacy, that a major vitamin deficiency contributed to my depressive state, and completed a vitamin regimen to help boost that back to where it should be.

I have also received lots of suggestions that I don't doubt were well-meaning, but are not for me. I had at least two people ask me if I found God. I've actually had God for many years and my relationship with Him/Her is a private and steadfast, yet questioning one. I don't buy into the blind faith of my baptized religion, Roman Catholicism and will not in my lifetime. Rehab has also been addressed. And that one is funny. Because it is not financially feasible, regardless of the state I am in. But it's a frustrating suggestion. I work full-time, tend to my family the best I can, have a good therapeutic and medical support system in place that I adhere to...I basically receive all of the things I would in an inpatient setting, but get to live and work like a normal person. Because I am a normal person. People often forget that. Many say that they don't carry stigmas when it comes to the mentally ill. But it's out there, even if laws are in place to prevent discrimination. I am here to tell you, though, that in spite of all my mental health crap, I know I am a viable,

Divorce

So anyone who is a Bing Bang fan probably heard that Kaley Cuoco is getting a divorce. I love how the media focuses squarely on the "only married 21 months" element of the relationship and feels it appropriate to list all the red flags she should have seen. Like I attempt to do each day with anxiety and depression, I am going to try and make divorce a little more real for y'all here.

I know nothing about Kaley's relationship and it's not my business, but it's no doubt a sad one, as it is rare that two people mutually choose to end a marriage and are both able to do so without negative feeling. Possible, but uncommon. I was married for a little over a year when I chose to separate from and eventually divorce my now ex-husband. We had been together for a total of about 26 months. And like any relationship, there was good and bad. Hell, for anyone to choose to marry someone and commit to what they think at the time is a lifelong thing, at least some element of the relationship is positive.

Anyhow, when I got divorced, most people were pretty understanding, even those that saw the red flags because our relationship, like this celebrity's, was a whirlwind in many aspects. My true friends and my family didn't care because, really, "I told you so" did no one any favors. But I had a few people judge, albeit unintentionally. I also dealt with (and still deal with) people's discomfort over the fact that I chose to end my marriage. Which is funny, because I came to grips with it, what, over four years ago now? No easy feat, but the other option is to not cope with it, so somehow you find the strength to accept it as part of your life’s history. And my reasons were valid. It didn't make the decision any lighter, nor did I choose this option without counsel or prayer. I also had people act as though, if they came to comfort me during that period, they would "catch" divorce from me and their relationship with their S.O. would suffer (yes, that really happened with a former close friend. Note the former).

Many people concern themselves with relationship timelines others adhere to. Or the age a person is when s/he marries. I have big, shocking news for anyone who is married/significantly with someone, and/or anyone who thinks it would NEVER happen to them. Most folks that marry or choose to share their lives together don't go into it assuming they will not end up with the person 30 years later. Unless you enjoy emotionally harming yourself, you likely don't put yourself through all that emotional and legal stuff thinking assuredly that your union will certainly end soon. And none of that stuff – age, timeline of courtship, etc.  – really matters; it’s all so much more than that. Common interests. Life timelines of what each other wants and when. Lifestyles. Finance. In-laws. The whole nine. And what you marry into at age 25-30 may change when you’re 40-50, so anyone who acts like they know everything about it is diluted. I am clearly not an expert, but I am at least smart enough to not judge others’ because, hey, it’s not me and it’s not my life. That rule really should apply to most things that don’t concern oneself, but our society has become a hasty judgment-based one and it’s plain sad.

Sometimes, things in a relationship DO change. And circumstances present themselves AFTER the "I do" and those memes with the old couples saying they used to “fix things” in their era is BULLSHIT. More people stayed in hopeless unions in the past, or married for practicality and not love. Sometimes, to be frank, shit happens.

Everyone is one step away from the life they think they could never be living in. Just because you don't "believe" in it something or can't comprehend it, doesn’t mean that you are A. above it or B. immune to it. Be thankful if you don't go through it and support the shit out of your friends and family that do. Yes, it's a choice, but in most cases, in order to be happy, it is really the only choice.