There. I said it.
It's hard for me--the Leo, the Girl Who Moved to England, the woman who tries not to be afraid of life changes and Big Adventures--to admit that I have a problem. It's hard for me to admit I need help. But I am admitting it. Admitting that I need help is the first step towards getting better.
Most of you know I've been on a low dose of an anti-depressant since February. My doctor called it "situational anxiety." In retrospect, I think my anxiety and inabilty to cope with stress well has been going on for a few years--at least since England, though I can recall some times in college where I might have benefited from help.
According to the Mayo Clinic, depression
...is a disorder that affects your thoughts, moods, feelings, behavior and even your physical health. People used to think it was "all in your head" and that if you really tried, you could "snap out of it" or just "get over it." But doctors now know that depression is not a weakness, and it's not something you can treat on your own. Depression is a medical disorder with a biological and chemical basis.
Sometimes a stressful life event triggers depression. Other times depression seems to occur spontaneously with no identifiable specific cause. Depression is much more than grieving or a bout of the blues.
Things came to a head for me today. The last few weeks have found me in HALT mode (Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired). I've been eating Kraft Macaroni and Cheese more than anyone ever should. I've been too tired to go to the gym, and my usual annoying morning-person tendencies have been replaced by an inability to get out of bed before 6:45--even if I've had a full eight hours of sleep. I've been incredibly lonely at times, but instead of reaching out to my friends, I withdraw into the safety and security of my apartment. And anger? Yeah, I've been angry. Angry at my kids, at their parents, at the school district, at idiot drivers, and that rude woman in WalMart who told me off recently.
So I haven't been the happiest girl on the planet of late, but today, it seemed completely overwhelming. I cried most of the morning--which made for some interesting stares in my direction as I walked into the Kaiser building. I saw first my primary physician, and then a psychologist. Both visits were helpful, and heartening: there is hope for me. My antidepressant dose has been upped a little bit, and the doctor gave me an anti-anxiety medication I can take on an as-needed basis.
I can't pinpoint what set me off this time--I guess it's job stress, but it's also just life stress. But what I'm really coming around to is that it's okay to suffer from depression. It's really okay. There's nothing "wrong" with me, I just need help right now in a stressful life situation. I need to find the direction I want to move in, because where I am now, career-wise and in terms of where I live, is not working for me.
The psychologist and I set two goals today. The first is to get to the gym once per week. This way, if I make it once, I've met my goal, and I'm not a "failure" for failing to make it every day. I'm also to try to add twenty minutes of extra moving around every day, to get the endorphins moving. This could be anything from vacuuming the apartment to strolling around campus during my prep or lunchtime.
I'm also insisting on a self-imposed ban on the mac and cheese.
The thing is, I want to work out. I want to work on my scrapbooks. I want to keep in touch with my friends. It's hard to explain, but I just haven't been able to do it lately.
Today was a big day for me. It was stressful, it was exhausting. I took a two-hour nap this afternoon. But I made an important step--I started fighting back against the depression. And I know, with the support of the people who love me, I can kick it in the butt.
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