Authentically Flawed

Major depression with suicidal ideation. I was 21 years old when I received this diagnosis; 19 years later, I am grateful to be here and able to write about it. I want to be clear that I am not writing this for sympathy or empathy; I’m sharing this deeply personal story to honor Mental Health Awareness Month. In this digital age, when we gloss and filter our lives for the ‘Gram, it’s important to remember that the curated moments we share on social media often don’t reflect our reality. Anyone can smile for a photo, but what’s happening with people when there’s no camera?

Depression looks and feels different for everyone; the fallacy of how we treat mental health in this country is there’s a general assumption that there are magic levers we can pull to get out of a depressive state. Some time ago, I wrote a whole Facebook post on the danger of “just”. I heard this many, many times during my lowest points. Just take medication. Just get out of the house. Just eat a healthy diet, focus on a hobby/make new friends/get a workout regimen. I got a lot of advice, but no one could tell me how to just get started. To emerge from the weight of the grief and find the strength to take the first step to all these remarkable suggestions. The other issue was figuring out where to focus. I can’t speak for everyone with similar diagnoses but for me, it was everything I had to simply get up, get dressed, and go to work. Adding another task or responsibility was almost more overwhelming than the pain I was in.

I did try medication, which was a disaster. Whenever you start a new medication, you get the typical “it could take time to adjust, and we may have to try multiple options to find the one that works for you” speech. Let me tell you – the emotional roller coaster I went on with multiple different dosage options of Prozac and Celexa and then switching from SSRIs to SNRIs was intense. At first I felt totally numb; I wasn’t sad but I couldn’t feel joy either. It was like living my life behind a glass shield, I couldn’t connect with anything positive or negative in my environment. Then there’s the fact that I am horribly irresponsible with routines – I’ve never been able to do the same thing at the same time every day, which spoiler alert – is extremely important for antidepressant efficacy. I’d miss doses, double up on doses, and start/stop abruptly (you’re supposed to taper). This caused a mood volatility that almost cost me my job, and definitely stunted my professional growth. I didn’t feel comfortable confiding in my leadership team that I was struggling just to show up every day, let alone deal with any conflict while I was there.

The only other treatment option my health care provider at the time recommended was group therapy. Access to one-on-one talk therapy was extremely limited back then so group was the only way to get consistent exposure to a therapist – so I was told. So there I went. At 21, while my friends were out exploring the freedom of official adulthood, and drinking legally on this side of the border (IYKYK), I was in a grief counseling group with strangers twice my age. For a few sessions, I listened to their tragedies; lost love ones, failed marriages, terminal illnesses. Instead of being the literal lifeline I needed, I sat there in silence, weighed down by the guilt of feeling like everything I was experiencing was the result of my own choices. How could I confide in this group who were suffering from grief that was beyond their control? I lost faith in the mental health care system and went back to keeping my head down and focusing on the one area of my life that I felt I had control over: work. My professional advancement became so important to me that I lost friends because of the number of times I’d declined or missed social invites. And so the cycle continued for years: focus on work, no social life, no improvement in mental health, get promoted, continue to focus on work…

In time, I’ve found balance and learned how to manage my symptoms, but I remain susceptible to depressive episodes. I had one earlier this year in fact. February, which is usually my favorite month since it starts with my birthday, was rife with interpersonal conflict. I started questioning what kind of friend I was that I was having issues with multiple people in my circle at the same time. Some of these issues have been resolved and my relationships are stronger for it, others have changed and I don’t know if they’ll ever be the same. What I am certain of is that I’ll be okay in any and all cases and that my worth is not tied to other people, other people’s perceptions, or even my own achievements. Worthiness is deeper than that and it’s the conviction in who I am that I am nurturing now.

As Mental Health Awareness Month comes to a close, I encourage you to take inventory of how you’re feeling. Where are areas you can give yourself grace and not feel like you have to carry an unmanageable load? When was the last time you asked for help? Took a self-care day? Did something frivolous? The world is heavy right now; we need to take care of ourselves now more than ever. Be well fam, and most importantly, don’t shy away from getting help if you do your inventory and find that you need external support. Love always.