Sunday, November 18, 2012

I'm Not "Right"...But It's OK

Last week my book club discussed a book called "The Secret That She Kept".  The main character of the book was a successful Black lawyer who suffered from bipolar disorder.  I enjoyed this book, not only because it was well written, but because the topic hit pretty close to home for me.

After our discussion I decided to write about my struggles with anxiety and depression. Then I got scared and changed my mind.  This is not a subject that I'm completely comfortable talking about with others.  I was always taught to keep "family business in the family" and to "keep some secrets for ya'self" so I figured my fear was the atmosphere's way of telling me to shut the hell up.  But, talking about this has been on my heart and mind for a while now, so I've decided to put my fear aside and have a conversation with you all (although one-sided). If you don't mind.

Several years ago, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and major depressive disorder.  Hindsight being 20/20, I now know that I've dealt with both (especially anxiety) for most of my life.  However, the way that my illnesses manifest led me to believe that it was just my personality.  I just thought it was how I was.

Getting a diagnosis didn't change anything though.  I didn't receive any treatment.  I acted like it never happened.  To me, accepting my diagnosis meant that I would be green lighting folks to call me crazy.  And while people have been calling me crazy for years, I didn't want that to be due to a legitimate mental illness.  I knew I wasn't "quite right", but again, I thought it was just my personality.  I was in denial about it for a very long time.  And because I didn't feel bad all the time, denying what was really going on was easy.  Denial kept me in a bad place for a very long time.

About four years ago, I decided that I had to get over myself and seek help.  I experienced an onslaught of life changing events that had me feeling like I was drowning in quicksand.  That's the only way I can describe my depression, quicksand.  When it gets bad, the more I move, the more I feel like I'm going under.    Anyway, all of these things made me feel like I was spinning out of control.  Because I am an anal retentive control freak who feels the need to be able to control EVERYTHING, being out of control made me feel like I was dying.  Not having control made me extremely sad and anxious, so my illnesses escalated.  I tried to work through these feelings on my own for a while.  I FINALLY realized that overcoming them would not be something I could do on my own. I needed help. So I sought out a therapist and talked about my issues with my family physician.

Doing that was the single best decision that I have ever made.  It literally saved my life.

So, I said all of that to say that I'm writing this post for the people who are out there who are feeling the heavy darkness of depression or the chest crushing pressure of anxiety. I understand. 

I have a mental illness.  My brain doesn't fire the same way that "normal" brains do.  I will never be 100%, at least not when I'm not on meds.  I'm not ashamed to share that I have to talk to someone to help me clear my head or that I have to take a pill (or two) to make sure my brain fires the way that it should. 

OK, full disclosure, I'm not ashamed anymore.  Remember I told you that I'm anal.  I like for things to go as planned.  Deviation from the plan causes problems for me.  Being diagnosed with a mental illness is a HUGE deviation.  I worked hard to be perceived as the perfect daughter, the perfect friend, the perfect student, the perfect girlfriend.  Depression and anxiety prevented me from completing my checklists for life.  I couldn't control my own feelings.  Because of that I was ashamed.  Shame led to denial.  For years I denied my illness and kept the fact that I even had a diagnosis to myself.  I didn't tell anyone.  More than anything, I didn't want people to look at me differently.  I didn't want to be judged, coddled, avoided, or called crazy (people still call me crazy, but for different reasons that I'm completely comfy with).  Shame is also part of the reason why it took me so long to seek treatment.  

I'm pretty sure some of you are wondering why I'm even saying anything now.  I know for sure that someone is thinking that I'm sharing too much.  I'm honestly not completely sure.  I just wanted to talk about it.  I felt like if I was going to live my life honestly, I had to be honest with myself and with others about the things that I struggle with on a daily basis.  Depression and anxiety happen to be a couple of those things.

Years of prayer and therapy have gotten me to a place where I can freely talk about my issues without fear of what other people think about me.  I know now that I have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.  I'm not alone.  Knowing that I don't have to deal with this on my own brings me comfort.  So I guess I'm trying to bring comfort to someone out there that is feeling like they are all alone with their struggle. 

You are NOT alone.  Don't let the dark, murky feelings, scary feeling that you may be feeling overwhelm you.  Don't make any rash decisions because you are feeling low.  Don't let your fears keep you from doing things that will likely bring you joy. Don't let these things make you feel like you have no hope.  Some solutions are permanent, those are not the right decisions to make. 

Remember that. 

Understand that mental illness has no specific demographic.  All mentally ill people are not poor or homeless and walking the streets talking to themselves.  Mental illness can be an urban raised, suburban living, college educated, black sorority girl with high blood pressure and a fetish for vintage handbags.

It can affect anyone.

And anyone can recover.  Although it's a life changer, it doesn't have to change your life for the worst.  Seek help.  Find a therapist or clergyman that can help you.  Talk to you physician and see if medications could help.  Exercise, journal, blog...do something that will help you relax and bring you some joy.

A diagnosis of a mental illness is not a great thing.  I'll be honest about that.  If I had my choice, I definitely wouldn't choose to deal with the struggles of depression and anxiety.  But, that's not the path that God has laid out for my life.  I've come to the realization that it's not something that can be ignored.  It won't go away on it's own.  I'm in this fight for what might be forever.  And I've decided as long as I fight this battle in a healthy way I will be okay.  I hope that someone reading this comes to that realization too.