- I started a photography business
- I suffer from major depression and had a nasty bout of it for a big chunk of 2014 and 2015
- I had some other health issues (including, but not limited to: hypo active thyroid, weird growths in my uterus, fainting spells, stomach upsets, migraines, and a torn meniscus)
- I have four children
- One of those children is Elliot, who is five, who has more energy in his left eyelid than my other 3 children have combined in their entire bodies
- I helped my parents move out of our house and into their cute new place in Pleasant Grove
When I become depressed the following things tend to happen (not necessarily in this order):
- I lose interest in things I normally love (music, reading, photography, friends, cooking, etc)
- I become incredibly tired and often suffer from terrible insomnia. It becomes nearly impossible to get out of bed, sometimes for days in a row.
- You know those internal voices that tell you you're not good enough that everyone deals with to some degree? They become deafening and unrelenting. They become convincing.
- I lose what little ability I normally have to keep my house tidy, or apply any kind of structure to my days.
- The thought of going outside and being among groups of people paralyzes me.
- I cry. A lot.
Then finally last year, in early spring, I became so depressed I could hardly function at all. I couldn't hide it from those closest to me and it made them sick with worry. Sander especially couldn't stand seeing me so unhappy and tried everything he could possibly think of to help me feel better. I don't have the vocabulary necessary to express my love and gratitude for how he stepped up and did absolutely everything he could to reduce my stress. But the depression was too strong for me and it was too strong for him. I regularly became convinced I was doing more bad than good for my family and that the best thing for everyone would be if I just disappeared. I attribute my faith with never allowing myself to entertain thoughts of suicide. I was simply too aware that it would solve nothing because I would take my sadness into the next life and would then also have to deal with the consequences of having given up. But I can't remember how many times I sat in my car, tears and snot running down my cheeks and chin, fingers on the ignition, trying to stop myself from starting the engine and driving away with no intentions of ever coming back.
Sometimes the sadness would be replaced by total apathy. I welcomed those moments of emptiness. They worried me more than the sadness, but were much easier to undergo. They were a pitiful relief.
Long story short: I was feeling worse than I ever had. And this time I couldn't think of a single circumstance that might be the cause. I tried hard to find one too! I googled and researched and read and asked. I saw doctors and tried diets. I sought out a therapist. I talked to my bishop. I started whole regimes of vitamins and forced myself to go hiking regularly hoping that what I was feeling could be blamed on a simple lack of exercise or fresh air. In the process we found out about some of the health issues listed in item #3 of the above list, but even after gaining knowledge of these ailments and dealing with them appropriately, I was still sad.
Nothing helped.
Then finally early this year, with as little fanfare as when they rolled in, the storm clouds seemed to slowly start parting and I started having more good days than bad days. By the time spring rolled around I finally felt like myself again. Unfortunately I started feeling worse again in July and the fear of going back to last year's darkness had me ringing the alarm bells early. I sought out therapy immediately this time and alerted Sander.
My therapist finally told me what I didn't want to hear all this time: You have major depression. "You need medication." She then told me what I needed to hear: "It is not your fault. You have all the coping skills I could hope for a patient with MD to have. You are doing everything right and you still get depressed, and it's time we got you some help."
And that's where I am at right now. At the start of what I understand to probably be a long and windy road to finding the right medication and dosage. I'm scared of the meds. I'm scared I won't be who I am anymore, because I actually like who I am with exception of the depression. But I am infinitely more scared of what depression might do to me and my loved ones if I don't go down this new road, so here I am.
It's weird being an upbeat, easygoing, happy person, and having depression. It makes it feel kind of like I am two entirely different people fighting to have control of this body. Luckily my lighthearted nature has helped me develop many essential coping skills. On the flip-side, it can be difficult for those outside my very small inner circle to even see that I struggle. You may notice that sometimes I go quiet and withdraw. You may notice that I sometimes cancel plans or don't attend social events. You may think I sometimes turn weirdly aloof or start ignoring you personally. I can assure you it is not ever you and I am sorry if this unwelcome guest of mine (the most helpful way for me to think of my depression is as an unwelcome and rude house guest that doesn't just affect my daily life) has made you feel like I don't care about you. I can assure you that I do and that I have often thought about you and wished I had the strength to reach out to you and tell you that I miss you so much.
But there you have it. If I were a jigsaw puzzle, this blog entry would be the pieces of seemingly endless black night sky. But there are also beautiful stars and a bright moon shining its silver light onto a garden filled with beautiful flowers of every color, size, and shape. And these flowers have no doubt that in the morning the sun will rise.
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