It has dawned on me, I don’t think I have ever really told my whole story. I have kept it inside for so long. My memory is fading. My heart has healed.
I think I was likely depressed in elementary school (the later years). I have not processed this and it would take therapy to really dig into it. For now this is what I am able to share.
My story begins 10 years ago. I went into a downward spiral after a breakup. At 29 I thought my life was over. I had very little experience with relationships and I thought this was the person God had brought into my life. I laid awake for months on end going over all the things I could have done better, crying myself to sleep. Negative self talk was on repeat in my head. I could not get away from my thoughts: you’re ugly, you’re not good enough, what were you thinking, you’ll never find someone to love you. I was able to work, but it was definitely getting in the way of my productivity. On the weekends I slept all day, ate pretty much nothing, and was lucky if I could muster enough energy to shower. I lost a lot of weight and people noticed. When people would comment on how I looked, I would brush it aside and change the subject to something else.
It took many months for me to seek help. I had been through this once before about two years earlier (although not as severe). At that time my doctor asked if I wanted to go on medication. I said no.
In August (of 2009) I started counselling. It was about that time I also started on medication. This time around I knew I could not do this alone. Talking to someone gave me a different perspective and allowed space for me to cry or stay silent if that was what I needed. The timeframe is a little blurry, but at some point I decided to start sharing my story. I created a blog and would share things I would never tell anyone in person. Somehow writing gave me the freedom I always needed. I was (and still am) very insecure, but having this outlet seemed to help. A couple of years after I started writing, I lost all of my blogs due to not saving them properly. I was devastated at first, but hoped this would help propel me to write from a different (hopefully happy) place. I was starting to feel better, I had stopped seeing my counsellor and I was off (or weaning off my medication).
I’m not exactly sure when the negative thoughts started to creep back in. I told myself I would not get hurt again and so I closed myself off. Attending bridal showers and baby showers was hard (if I could, I made excuses not to go). I isolated myself - only going to work and coaching track. I had no social life. The more I stayed in the easier it was, and the more worthless I felt. When I did reach out to people and they couldn’t hangout or cancelled plans, I told myself more lies: they don’t like me, I’m not their friend, I’m such a loser.
I could not take it anymore and I made my way back to my doctor (2016).
This time we tried a different medication as I had terrible withdrawal symptoms from the medication I had taken previously. She also recommended a psychologist (who thankfully I connected with). I had a not so great experience with another therapist a few months prior and didn’t want to go through that again.
Now in my mid 30s I was coming to grips with the fact that I was going to be single forever. It hurt, my heart hurt, but I just didn’t see any other future for myself. I was still isolating quite a bit and my therapist challenged me on that. She gave me little things to do (as homework) to help me out of my shell. Little by little I was returning to (or more accurately moving towards) the person I am today. I was so tired of being stuck, so tired of the tears, and guilt and shame that comes along with depression.
I surprised myself sometimes through this journey. I was starting to laugh more, and socialize, and not take things personally when someone had to cancel plans. The wall I had build up was beginning to crumble. So much so that I allowed myself to be open to the possibility of letting someone into my heart. It was a sudden change for me. One that ten years ago wasn’t even fathomable.
Today (at the age of 39) I am in a great place. I am dating someone who I didn’t have to fear telling my story to as he saw it first hand - or at least the parts I was willing to share (we have been friends for just over 20 years).
In September 2018 my therapist told me she thought I was doing well enough to stop seeing her (I agreed) and October 25, 2018 was my first day medication free.
Through this journey I have learned: I am not alone, I am worthy, and sharing my story can give others hope.
Today: Like most, I'm trying to figure things out. Sometimes that's day by day, moment by moment, and even breath by breath.