Note to Self:
You can be happy.
This is a hard post to write and share. For that reason I'm sure it will sound scattered, but I'm going to do my best because this is important.
*Trigger warning - mental health (I put this because I know this is such a hard topic and while my goal is for this post to maybe help someone else, I know that it may be difficult for some to read)
My husband has been gone on a deployment for 76 days now. I've been reflecting on that time a lot lately. It's been difficult - but as much as I want to, I can't say they've been the hardest months this year. The truth is that before he left I was in a really dark place and had been for months. I've talked about my anxiety quite a bit the last few years, but the first third of this year I had spiraled into a web of anxiety and depression that I couldn't get out of - even with my background and going to counseling myself. It was terrifying.
November and December (the months following my father's death) were hard. Looking back, though, that time feels like normal grief (if there is such a thing). Lots of tears. Lots of thinking about my dad and not being able to comprehend the fact that I wouldn't get to see him again on this earth. And lots of sadness and anger surrounding the holidays without him. I honestly can't express how painful it was - you can really only understand this kind of pain if you're in the club. The club of those of us who have lost a parent - a club no one enters into willingly and one I wish didn't have to gain new members.
The week after Christmas and into the new year I felt OK. Something I hadn't felt in months. I was sure that 2019 couldn't possibly be worse than 2018 and I was determined to make it that way.
Then I crashed.
I experienced depression for the first time in January of 2018. It was only for about two weeks - but I remember thinking that I would take my anxiety over depression any day.
This year it wasn't just two weeks. It's like I had fallen into a hole and couldn't get out. Not only that, but in the bottom of that hole was a pool of quicksand and everything I tried to do to escape made me sink further.
It was terrifying. It was agonizingly painful. During that time every day was a cycle of feeling incredibly anxious and having panic attacks, unbelievably sad and randomly bursting into tears, and then feeling nothing at all. As much as it may surprise you, that last one - feeling nothing at all - was the worst of the three. I was completely numb during those times - I felt empty. I felt like I was just a shell of a person and didn't want to be around anyone to drag them down or burden them. Every day was so damn hard - a battle just to survive.
I felt completely hopeless. I saw no end in sight. I knew my husband would be leaving for months and couldn't believe it would be possible to get through those months without the one person who really knew what I was going through. After that it seemed like just a short time till we would come upon the anniversary of my father's death and then the holidays without him again. Just a couple weeks into 2019 and I already wanted it to be over. I couldn't see any way to stop feeling what I was feeling and just feel one ounce of happiness again. As I said, I felt completely hopeless.
Even by just that brief description I'm sure those of you who know me and care for me are feeling extremely concerned. The truth is those are the kinds of things that cause your counselor and doctor to ask if you've thought of hurting yourself or ending your life. And they did ask me those things. I was able to honestly answer "no" to both of those questions. Partially because I would be too scared to ever do anything like that, but mostly because of my background and working with teens who have hurt themselves and even attempted suicide. I knew that even though I felt like a burden and wanted it all to be over - death wasn't an option. I didn't want life to be over - I wanted my life to start up again.
By the end of March I had been in counseling for 3 months and tried all of the things I knew to try to climb out of that quicksand-filled hole. Nothing was helping.
At this point, my counselor asked me about my opinions on medication. The truth is I had been thinking about medication on and off for a few weeks. But I was scared. I was scared because I know sometimes it takes time to find a medication that works and in that process you could potentially feel worse. Even when you do find the right one, it takes time for that medication to start working. With just under two weeks until my husband left for deployment, I was terrified to start the medication journey without him here to support me. Besides that, I didn't really want to be on medication. For years I had been on medication for my stomach issues and I hated every second of it. I hated feeling like I was broken and had to take something just to be normal. At this point, though, medication was the only thing that gave me the slightest bit of hope. So, with my counselor's encouragement, I made an appointment with my doctor the next day to see about getting on some medication.
It wasn't a very long appointment. My doctor was surprised it had taken me so long to seek medication after I told her how I had been feeling. She prescribed an antidepressant and I started it that night.
It made me incredibly nauseous if I didn't eat often enough, after every time I ate, and nearly every hour of the day anyway. I spent nights in the bathroom sweating and just wishing I could throw up so that maybe I could feel even the tiniest bit better. I told my doctor, but kept taking it because I had read that within a couple weeks these kinds of side effects usually subsided.
On day 13 of me taking medication my husband left for the deployment. At that point I hadn't noticed it really helping. I was so scared.
On day 14 I visited my doctor to check in. I explained the nausea and how I didn't feel any better, but we decided I should continue taking it for a couple more weeks.
On day 22 I woke up and it was honestly like someone had flipped a switch. I felt good. I felt happy. For the first time in months I felt like a real human being and myself again.
In the 54 days since then it's only gotten better. My husband is still gone and that SUCKS. But I'm OK - truly. I've had time to find myself again. I've taken time to get back into my hobbies and even learn new skills. I've taken on huge projects and laughed my way through the mistakes until it's finished. I've enjoyed hanging out with friends and family, and also just staying home to snuggle my puppies. I love life again and I'm so excited to keep living it.
Photo credit: Bethany Camille @bethanycamille16
I asked my doctor about how long I should be on the medication - but the truth is I didn't really care about the answer. If I can get off it in the near future, that's great. I can honestly say, though, that I have absolutely no problem being on this medication for as long as it takes. I don't feel broken. I finally feel whole again.
I want to share all of this with you because I believe it is important. Mental health is so important and I like to believe we're all finally breaking down the pieces of our society that make us think otherwise. You don't need to feel ashamed if you're hurting and struggling. But you do need to get help. It's OK to be terrified - I know I was - but don't give up.
Medication was the solution for me, but I know that's not the case for everyone. I also know, without a doubt, that there is something (or some combination of things) to help each person.
If you're struggling - keep going. I know it feels hopeless. But you're not alone and you can get through this.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline:
1-800-273-8255
Crisis Text Line:
Text CONNECT to 741741
