Moody
When I first met my husband I wondered if I should tell him about my mental state. I knew the moment we met I would marry him, even if he didn't know it yet. I thought it was only right that I tell him he wasn't solely in a relationship with me, but with my lifelong friends, depression and anxiety, as well.
I often find myself wanting to tell people whom I've just met, about the disorders that have accompanied me since childhood.
Nice to meet you. I'm Trish, and I'm clinically insane.
I figure if I tell people up front, it will give them a chance to avoid making friends with someone who has an easier time being a flake than being a good friend. Perhaps they won't judge me so harshly if they know what they're dealing with from the get go. For me, and I'm sure others can relate to this, making people aware of my mood disorders oftentimes made me less anxious. Explaining why you have to leave in the middle of a panic attack isn't pleasant. You feel foolish, so informing people around you beforehand lends to easing your anxiety. Amiright?
As far back into my childhood as I can remember, I was anxious. I was able to live a normal life, but in my soul, I could feel something bubbling. Something waiting to take me under. Multiple traumas in my childhood could be blamed, but as I've gotten older and debatably wiser, I believe certain people, trauma or not, are prone to mood disorders. It's in their makeup. It's what they were born with. Something as small as the weather changing can drag it out of them. I went twenty-three years before mine was completely drug to the surface, and eventually, it took over my life. I can pinpoint the time by my divorce from a snake and a divorce from a church. My identity as a wife and my membership to a thriving, tight knit community of Jesus lovers, was ripped from me. I lost my purpose in a matter of days, and over the course of a few months, I lost me.
Four months of my life were spent trapped inside my mother's house. I was scared to leave. Scared to drive. I develped an irrational fear of vomiting (emetaphobia). I stopped eating. Quit my job.
The only time I forced myself to leave the house was to see a psychiatrist for medication. Getting to that point was a battle in itself. If you come from a religious background (I'll discuss this further in a separate post) like myself, you understand like I do, that when you say you're having a mental breakdown, you're told to simply pray and Jesus will heal you. Don't misunderstand me here, I believe in the power of prayer, but I also believe that mood disorders are a chemical imbalance that can only be fixed with the right medication and psychological treatment. I believe in Science and Jesus. I'm sure I'll be banned from many religious circles for that confession, and I'm okay with that. It is what it is what it is.
But, I didn't believe that at first.
I thought I wasn't praying enough. I thought God forgot about me. I thought if I prayed harder I would get better. I struggled for three months in that mindset, until my mom knocked some sense into me and told me to get on medication before I lost myself completely.
If I could imagine what hell will be like, it would be living those four months over and over again for the rest of my life.
I don't know when things got easier, and that's the thing with mood disorders, they work on their own accord. They come and go as they please. I just remember eventually I was okay. The third medication I tried, was obviously helping.
I thought the war was over. I knew that I would always battle depression, anxiety and manic moods, but I could keep them under control with medication and counseling.
I was wrong. The war began again after I had my first son. And by war, I mean when the depression drags me to the ground. When panic attacks are daily. When life is impossible to live. I had heard of postpartum depression (I'll write a separate post about this in the future) before, but I didn't think it would get me. It was unexpected when it hit, while I was holding my newborn our first day home. I had been off medication for over a year, mainly because I felt better (mistake), and because I was afraid of what medication would do to my baby.
My baby was born healthy and perfect and I couldn't have been unhappier. Having a new baby while suffering in that black hole of depression was harder than that previous four months of hell.
But this time around I recognized that hopeless feeling sooner. I knew from the last war what I needed to do. That I needed to arm myself. If I hadn't fought that first war, I don't know how I would've made it through the second one.
It's been seven years since the second war. And five years since the last war I fought. The last war I wasn't ready for, but I was well equipped to walk away the victor. And I did. I even wrote two books during that time. Fiction became apart of my arsenal to fight the wars, alongside medication and counseling.
I haven't been to war in years, but I still battle daily.
I have my days/weeks where I feel depression tapping on my shoulder, begging for me to come down to the ground with it. Anxiety slinks into the room, uninvited, every day.
All those wars I fought have led me here. To this day. Where I can look back at those wars and see the silver lining. I treat those times as a lesson. I've learned a lot about myself in those wars. My many strengths, and many weaknesses. I recognize my triggers, and limits. I recognize that I'm not okay, but I have to keep living my life because I refuse to lose this unending war. I'm able to get on a plane after 30 years of being grounded, while anxiety chokes me, while panic invites me to lose all control of my thoughts. I chant, listen to music, breathe deeply until I'm lightheaded, pray, and fidget endlessly, because I know what I'm fighting. My own mind. I know it will pass. I know the things I fear will always be the things I fear, but I have to at least try to fight those fears. And I may lose over and over, but I won't give up.
And neither should you.
If you're battling anxiety, or depression, or any mood disorder, know you have an army standing next to you fighting the same fight. You're not alone, even if it feels that way most of the time, as these disorders trap you inside yourself. There are others like you, who struggle to get out of bed. Who struggle to love on their children. Who struggle to maintain relationships. I used to beat myself up because I couldn't find that motivation everyone talks about. But then I accepted my brain functions differently. I stopped letting “motivational folks” inadvertently shame me. It's not a simple task to find motivation when it's buried under layers of psychological landfill. Don't beat yourself up. I wasted too many years in that cycle. Acquaint yourself with your disorders. Let yourself feel what is going on inside of you, but don't get trapped. The more you understand what's going on inside you, the less guilt you will feel. Don't be ashamed to ask for help. Don't be ashamed to talk about it. The more you open up about the darkness, the more light you'll shed on it.
Surround yourself with people who will love you and support you, who will fight for you, even if they don't know exactly what they're fighting.
I was fortunate to get a second chance with my second husband. A redo, that I needed for the sake of my sanity. My husband doesn't complete me. He doesn't fill the holes that these disorders have left all over my body. He didn't save me, but he listened to me, and sometimes that's all you need to survive these disorders. My first husband thought I was crazy, because he didn't understand, and didn't try to understand, and really, he was a toxic asshole.
Toxic people will poison your well. If your well is already full of stagnant, muddy water, what do you think that will do for you?
Find good people. Find good friends. Find someone who you can call, no matter what. When/ if you're ready, find a spouse who will welcome your moody friends with open arms. Find a legit medical professional who can help you. Find weapons to stockpile in your arsenal, because you will need them without notice. If you're on the fence about medication (anti-depressants/anti-anxieties/CBD's/ THC's), get down from the fence and get some information about them. You won't know if they can help you unless you try. Force yourself to do something that makes you smile and do that thing over and over until you don't have to fake the smile anymore.
Mood disorders ebb and flow, and you have to learn how to move with them so they don't take you under.
These Books are part of my arsenal-
Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield
The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck by Mark Manson
Battlefield of the Mind by Joyce Meyer
Transcendental meditation was brought to my attention this past year. It's a good technique to channel your negative energies into something positive. David Lynch is a good source for information on the topic.