Every 13.3 minutes, there is another Robin Williams

September was Suicide Prevention Month.  The beginning of October pushed me to feel compelled to share another part of my story.  The battle continues for us all.  Every 13.3 minutes, there is another Robin Williams.  We must not judge from the outside when we know nothing about the inside.  We must all continue to fight the stigma surrounding mental illness and help others feel they can not only ask for help but also receive adequate help. 

  

A day in March....

I remember logging into my Psychiatrist’s practice website to check my appointment status and staring frozen at the words “condition” and “began”. 

How did I get here?  How did my condition become clinical/major depression?  How did I receive a beginning date of 11/1/2001 when I don’t even remember how this even all began?  In a warped way, it was the beginning of solace.  The beginning of understanding all of the sleepless nights, the racing thoughts, the hiding of my sadness, guilt, self loathing, forgetfulness, weight gain and low energy.  Many of my friends and family still struggle with the words, “how could I not have known?”  Honestly, after months of examining myself, I don’t know that I saw the freight train coming either. 

Although I chose to personally disclose my mental illness, I still see myself concerned about others perceptions about me, which in turn, has created anxiety.  This is something I have never struggled with before.  My recovery has had peaks and valleys and honestly has been uncomfortable at times.  Self-examination isn’t fun.  I am at times at war with myself.  Personal disclosure was important for me but at the same time, it still causes frustration in the overall explanation of mental illness and depression.  How can I explain to others what I don’t even understand at times?

I remember saying to my Doctor, “I have no reason to be unhappy.  I love my husband.  He loves me.  I’m a newlywed.  We have a new house.  My parents love me.  I have wonderful friends.  I have a job I truly love.  I am so blessed.”  As I was saying all of those things, there weren’t enough tissues in his office to wipe my tears. 

Are you me? 

Do you have a friend that you think is me? 

Please ask for help.  It’s okay to count your blessings if you are me, but it’s also okay not to hide your sadness.  There is help available.  There is recovery.  There is hope.  I am hope.    

Need help? In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255 for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

Insta Monday

If you read my blog regularly, you are in the know how much I believe in positivity.  I'm not always successful radiating it from myself but I try to always surround myself with it via friends, social media, work, family and church.  Instagram has become one of my favorite mediums for positivity, especially on a Monday morning.  My two favorites from this morning are below.  Once again, a true example of how we never know what we put out there is affecting others.  Dusty Takle and Jennifer Meyer affected me this morning.  Hey, maybe Jen will send me some jewelry for the mention (a girl can always hope!)

Depression is a bastard

It's been a while... I have immersed myself into my job, successfully spent a week in NYC for market and am beyond thrilled for my favorite season of the year to arrive.  College football is up and running at Bethany Bend on the back porch!  Therapy, support groups, football, Nashville and Scandal are all on the docket for the next few weeks.  

I have struggled to explain depression to people.  A rather long article was in the Huffington Post not too long ago and it touched me beyond belief.  Such an accurate description.  I wanted to share a few parts which I found to be profound.  Happy first week of Fall to all!  

The media portrays depression as sadness. It doesn't portray the screaming and self-harm and trips to the hospital at 3 a.m. It doesn't portray the entire truth. It's hard to watch the people you love the most sit at the bottom of a very large dark hole and remain helpless and on the edge looking down with no safety rope to pull them out.

Depression, anxiety, OCD, bipolar, eating disorders -- if you look around right now I bet half of the people surrounding you are fighting one of these silent battles. They are soldiers, and like anyone fighting a disease they deserve compassion and recognition. People with mental illness are sick and engaged in a battle every day with life.

Depression is a bastard. It crawls inside of you and debilitates every dream and aspiration you've ever had. It incapacitates your basic function and controls every aspect of who you are. You can't hide from it when you want to, and you can't explain it to anyone else. It's not even just sadness, it's physical pain and passiveness. The world around you keeps moving and you are there, remaining still and lethargic. That's the thing about depression -- it's silent, and it doesn't care if you are black or white, male or female, rich or poor. You can be standing on a train next to someone reading a book and that person could be screaming inside, clinging on to their last hope of life. 

Something needs to change. Something has to change. It's hard to live in a society that has sadness for cancer and shame for suicide.

Alaina Baker - Huffington Post

Surround yourself with happy

If there's one thing I can "double confirm" since March 7th, I exist best in a positive environment - positive things, positive people are best for me.  

I've also learned to surround myself with things to make me smile when I'm feeling blue.  I'm encouraging you to do the same.  A few nutty examples are below of things I have on my phone and right beside my desk to make me smile through tears.  

Apparently Kid

Support

Sparing the personal details, it was a tiring day in our family Tuesday.  After a long work day, the last thing we wanted to do was drive through 400 traffic to an hour and a half support group in Dunwoody.  I've often thought that some of my favorite times in life are when I didn't want to do something but end up having fun when I least expect to.  While I wouldn't call a support group necessarily "fun", it was a powerful group and night.  

I'll share at random a few things I learned.  I'm sharing these things to encourage anyone who may be reading this who is in fear of going to a support group alone to hopefully push you in the direction of attending.  Whether it be AA, NA, Al-anon, divorce, grief, weight loss, etc., there is power in numbers of people who share your illness.  You are not alone.  


1.  It is empowering to help others with my experience.

2.  It is okay to ask for help.  

3.  I can cry and break down and not feel judged.  

4.  Reward system -  I showered today -- gold star!  I made a to do list - gold star!  Rewarding ourselves for the little things and big things in life.   

5.  Meds, Food, Spirituality, Sleep, Exercise - 5 important items to focus on.  

6.  Mood disorder caregivers need an outlet too.  

7.  Hedonic treadmill - yes, the term exists.  Google it.  

8.  Support from others is vital to wellness.  

9.  It is courageous to walk into a room of strangers.  

10.  DBSA is a nonjudgmental, supportive atmosphere which I am grateful my husband found.   Links are below for DBSA and for the Atlanta & Johns Creek chapters.  

Depression & Bipolar Support Alliance

Atlanta DBSA

DBSA Johns Creek

  

Battles

Lights out

My iPhone alarm was set for 6:05 am this morning.  At 6:38, JT was waking me up out of what I felt was a deep sleep.  I turned my alarm off without even realizing it at some point between the 5 and the 38.  Ay Caramba!  Then came the vicious scramble of showering, coffee and Atlanta traffic for an 8 am Doctor appointment.  Sleep has become a barometer for my quality of life.  I am really, really tired.  Not just I worked today tired, but crazy tired.  I remember walking through the double doors at Peachford feeling comatose from lack of sleep and trying to lay down on the plastic covered wooden bed before the nurse said, "honey, we need to make the bed first."  I didn't care.  It was my body's way of saying, "lights out."  Up until March, I never equated sleep with quality of life.  I always pushed through late night emails, setting up of my work showroom in NYC, delayed flights.  I didn't listen to my body.  Honestly, I judged my lack of energy as being lazy and not successful.  

I am learning to respect the REM cycle.  When I got home from my appointment this morning, I promptly headed upstairs and peeled back the covers and declared, "lights out."  Some of you might say that's a perk of working from home.  I look at it as a necessity after flying from Vegas to NYC and working non stop knowing I'm hopping on another flight Sunday to LA.  Sleep, just like the 3 pills on my bathroom counter, is medicine.  I will take it.

Lights out....