Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Mental health.

It's been a year since my experience with depression came to an end and I began feeling like myself again. It's not a topic that is easy for me to write about, but I feel compelled to continue to share my journey, because mental health is still something in our society that is a taboo topic, is too often misunderstood, and yet, mental illness is so common. I was one of those people who thought it was something that other people experience, but not me. I exercise, eat healthy, journal, spend time outside, have a wonderful family. Surely I wouldn't be susceptible to depression, I thought, and then, it was me. 

The words below are from my journal a couple weeks ago, which I wrote after going to an appointment with my psychiatrist. 

My journey with postpartum depression is not something I think about every day. I think about it when there is news like that of Kate Spade or Anthony Bourdain. When I hear these stories, I realize I am lucky that I don’t have to think about my experience with depression every day, that medication worked for me, that I have been able to mother my kids with confidence and joy throughout the past year. I feel heartbroken, because I know how hopeless depression can feel, and I don't understand why some people are able to overcome this illness while others are not. It simply isn't fair. 

This morning I had a routine check-in with my psychiatrist, and I felt nervous approaching the entrance of the same building where last summer I felt completely depleted, and last fall, I felt healed.

I was reminded that it takes a lot of courage to make an appointment and walk into a building labeled “psychiatry.” It takes a lot of courage to put in the work to fight against depression. It takes a lot of courage to make a decision to go on medication when nothing else has worked to get out of a dark place.

As I walked into the psychiatry building, memories washed over me: a summer full of hopeless appointments where I sat in the chair of a therapist’s office and then a psychiatrist’s office and literally cried for an hour straight each time, so disconnected from myself for seemingly no reason. I feel haunted by those memories, wanting to give that version of myself a deep embrace. I also feel a distance from that person who was deep in the throes of depression, and yet, I carry a deep seated fear that I will be that person again at some point in my life.

As I entered the building, I looked at every person I passed in the eye with a gentle smile, trying to give them some love and positivity, knowing they are each fighting a battle that is so deep in their souls that it would be unrecognizable passing them on the street.

I wish they could each realize that they are so brave to show up for help. 


As I said, it's been a year since I've experienced depression, and this month, under the guidance of my doctor, I weaned off of the medication that a year ago helped me come back to myself. I don’t know why so many people in our society have to experience mental illness, but I do know that some of the strongest, most brilliant and inspiring people I know have struggled with mental health, which has helped me to realize that although it is a devastating illness, people do overcome it and there is hope. I only wish those in the midst of depression could sense that hope.  

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