shame – My Forties Reboot

Don’t be a twit. That is what my friend told me. Don’t be a twit. If you need help, ask. You really are a twit about asking for help (yes, I know. I will drown before I will ask for it).

I love her for that.

Sometimes you just need someone to tell you something you already know but don’t want to acknowledge. She is the person that loves you enough to do just that. Let me explain.

This year has been rough to say the least. For everyone. In addition to the same shit everyone else is dealing with, I have had plenty of personal stuff piled on top of everything Covid related. In my past, I have dealt with depression. I know what it feels like when it starts creeping in. I have felt it coming and winding it’s way around my brain, stealing every bit of joy from me. I have been fighting it but after everything, it really is a losing battle, when fighting on your own.

Two months ago, my friend was working on making me masks and I went to her house to try the one she had completed to see if it was comfortable. She took one look at me and asked if I was okay. For the next two hours, I sat on her living room floor, bawled like a baby and poured everything out. I completely lost my shit and quite frankly, it was long overdue. This year has been challenging and it followed a very challenging 2019. Struggle has just been my season for what seems like forever. Anyway my friend, Kari, sat and listened without judgment and didn’t try to fix me. She did, however, tell me that I needed help. I already knew that, but denial and a fair amount of shame kept me from seeking it. I knew the signs. I have been here before. I would never shame anyone else, but somehow when it is me, I struggle with shame until my brain works right. I didn’t do anything wrong that caused me to have Hashimoto’s disease or Celiac disease, depression is no different. I didn’t do anything to earn that badge, but somehow it feels different.

I never see anyone. I talk to my coworkers on the phone (it seems I can fake happy really well), text friends and rarely see family. I have isolated myself. If you were to walk into my apartment, you would see the affects of my depression everywhere. That is why I never invite anyone over or let them in if they do stop by. Dishes are in the sink, my art supplies are everywhere. It is like a craft store barfed in my living room. Laundry stays in the basket after it exits the dryer, and stays there until we all dig out what we need. Bills are piled up. I pay them, but I have not had the energy to deal with the evidence. My situation has overwhelmed me and even now that I have my depression and anxiety under control (Thank you Lexapro), I am having trouble sorting out and cleaning up the chaos. I am still overwhelmed which will trigger the anxiety. I am not sure where to start. I no longer fluctuate between being fighting mad and crying all the time, but one or the other still happens on occasion. With cancer or some other medical issue there is usually presenting evidence so it is “real” to the rest of the world. When it comes to things like depression, if often appears to the rest of the world as though you just have a bad case of laziness. In reality, fatigue steals all of your energy and motivation so a lot of things go undone. I would describe the level of tired as walking through waist-deep tar and, while you can push it away from you, it pushes back in from the sides and that is every waking moment. It. Is. Exhausting.

And if dealing with my depression and anxiety wasn’t enough, my youngest son has been diagnosed with the same thing. My oldest son was too, when he was 15 (he is now 28). We saw the changes in his behavior but didn’t know what to do about it so we watched and prayed. Eventually he blew up and I took him to the doctor. On the suicide risk scale, he scored 98/100. When my youngest, who has always been a straight A student, was failing all his classes, we knew we couldn’t wait. I watch him like a hawk and bug the shit out of him about how he is feeling. I am now 8 weeks into my meds and he is about 3 weeks into his. I am feeling pretty great, other than being overwhelmed about where to start reversing the chaos I have created. My son genuinely laughed tonight and I wanted to cry.

To those of you that are struggling–

there is no shame in asking for help
Medicine can be such a godsend
So can therapy
Join a support group on facebook or some other social media where you can be heard, be supported and support others.
Talk to others who have been there.
Take it one day at a time. You can’t fix everything at once. Baby steps are steps.
It is not your fault. You didn’t do anything to deserve it. You are not being punished (that is one I struggle with) and you are not mired in sin/guilt (there some religious folks that like to use that one)
Don’t let your internal voice lie to you. Despite what it says, you are loved, you are worthy, you are important and you matter. I promise you. I know it may not feel that way, but it is true. The world is a better place with you in it.
Vent, cry or rage if you need to. Melting down on occasion is okay. Just don’t take up residence in that place.
Give yourself some grace. You will need it.

To those of you that know or love someone who is struggling–

Listen without judgement.
Don’t try to fix it. You can’t.
Just love them. Tell them you love them. Show them they matter.
They are not weak for seeking medication. You have no clue how strong they have to be to get through each day and each week without having a breakdown.
If you can help, please do, but don’t make a big deal out of it. Clean something, take them out for coffee, go for a walk with them. They will probably vehemently resist your efforts, but do it anyway. Help is so needed, even though most of us are ultra independent (thank you trauma)
Don’t be afraid of tears and super personal stuff. If someone comes to you and unloads, chances are they truly trust you. Please just suck up the discomfort.
Again, listen without judgement.
Don’t take offense if they don’t initiate conversation or return texts. It is not personal and they don’t do it on purpose. When you are exhausted and every thing, every obligation, every responsibility is swirling around in your face and your brain can’t sort it out, responding sometimes just takes too much. Keep trying.
Encourage them to get help.
Never give up on them. You being there for them might keep them from giving up on themselves or their situation.

If there is one thing that is needed in all this mess, it is grace. We all need it. And transparency. If we all treated mental illness the same way we treat disease, more people wouldn’t have the fear of judgement and they would be far more likely to seek help. With as much as we know about mental illness, it amazes me that people still view it differently than any other medical ailment. It’s not.