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