depression did not & will not define me

// I hid my pain, because I was ashamed. //

I was confused.

How could I, one of the most generally positive people, be depressed?

It felt just like it’s written above — a bold label declaring me as different and ultimately, as damaged. Even saying the word gave me chills back in 2011 and I cried at the thought of going to the doctor to see if I would be diagnosed.

2011 had me feeling all sorts of things. I was playing soccer, I had found Jesus and I was in a pretty good relationship with a guy who treated me in all of the right ways… and yet, something was wrong.

I felt trapped, disinterested, and full of a weird kind of sadness. At school, I would be able to make it appear like everything was completely fine, but by the time that I got into the comfort of my own home, I was emotionally spent and couldn’t handle anything else.

I was depressed. Bold, underlined, anything to make it stand out — I was living with it. I was navigating feeling ashamed for not feeling okay. BUT WHY? Why live in shame for something that I couldn’t explain?

Folks, in case you didn’t know…there’s a HUGE stigma around mental health. YEP, I just said it.

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My mental health journey, just like anything else in life, is in a constant state of transition.

In 2011, I felt like I had lost control of my emotions. I simply couldn’t explain what was wrong or why I was sad. Everything was muddled and for someone who seeks clarity, muddy water was not my friend.

I went onto an anti-depressant, which helped a lot. It helped to balance my hormones in the background while I was in the foreground, fighting to figure out what made me happy. I pulled myself down to the basics.

I started appreciating the sunshine.

I sought out time alone to paint.

I slept…a lot.

But one thing that got me through, was a gratitude journal. Everyday, I was tasked with finding at least one thing that I was grateful for. I would write about my thoughts that day, what was due in my classes, or something funny that someone might’ve said in passing. I was re-learning to appreciate all of the little things among the mud.

A year and a half later, I stopped taking my medication — I was in a much better place and I wanted to try this thing on my own.

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Like I mentioned earlier, the road to recovery is a journey. I don’t believe that I’ll ever truly be done, but I can’t really imagine how life would’ve gone without getting me back to my basics.

Up until now, every so often, I would have days where nothing felt right and I would just feel…meh. I would get back to something that made me feel happy, write about it, process it, absorb it and try to grow from it, but I wouldn’t really share with anyone but my family.

Now, I need to share.

I need to share part of my journey to hopefully illustrate to someone who believes that mental health isn’t real, that it is so, so real for those that are battling it.

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Taken from a journal entry in March 2017

I have officially acknowledged an issue — I am burnt out. Burnt from the monotony of homework. Burnt from the lack of fresh air. Burnt from a less than ideal living situation. Burnt from my own standards that I hold myself to. Burnt from giving so much of my energy away and never saving enough for me. Burnt from my drive for perfection stealing my time and my head-space.

Folks, I am just plain OUT.

Everything I do, I do with the expectation of it being the best thing since they sliced the damn loaf of bread. Who can live like that? I know that I no longer can. I used to be afraid to disappoint others, a natural people pleaser at heart. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents. I hold them and their opinions in the highest regard.

I wept, sitting on the floor, talking to them about my fear.

Fear of not living up to my potential.

Fear of becoming so burnt out that I won’t want to finish.

Fear that I’ll have too many choices or options after graduation that I’ll be paralyzed by indecision.

BUT JO…that is literally a YEAR away!!!!!

My parents kindly reminded me that I can let some of that go. That there isn’t a need to go above and beyond in all that I do. That it is okay to pick and choose what I give my attention to, and that some of my attention should NOT be school.

GET OUT. live. spend a little $. do something fun.

Screw the illusion that your grades determine your character, because NEWSFLASH, they never have and never will. My mind has been my greatest advocate and my darkest enemy. The same mind that trapped me in a dark place of depression also pulled me back into the light. We’ve been on quite a ride, this brain of mine. The things that occupy my head-space, drive my need for perfection, and generally cause disarray…they have a name. We call them my whackadoodles, because they are CRAZY. Taking control of the whackadoodles is an ebb and flow that I’ve dealt with to some degree, for most of my life. The difference is how much power that I choose to give them and in turn, how much they affect me and my world.

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BUT, just by acknowledging these things, it doesn’t mean that they’re solved.

I still struggle with everything above.

I’m human and I’m just trying my best with what I’ve got until I know better.

But what I do know, is that I can always ask for help.

It doesn’t mean that I always want help, because when I was in a deep and dark place, I didn’t want anyone down with me. I needed to be alone.

But now, I’m getting help.

I’m going to talk to someone who is trained in this very thing, i.e. sifting through the mud.

Don’t be afraid to reach out when you’re drowning. There are plenty of resources available, no matter where you are. If you’re on campus, go see someone at CAPS. Every year that I’ve been at school, I’ve been at CAPS — spilling my soul, finding some clarity, and generally getting things out of my head into a safe place to discuss.

But just know, that even if you don’t feel ready to take that first step, I’m rooting for you. This isn’t an easy road, but if there is anything that I’ve learned in the past 6 years, it’s that there is always a benefit for a completely detached, third-party human to listen. They provide no bias and can be of huge assistance.

But, also know, that it’s okay to not be okay, but it’s not okay to stay that way.

Keep shining your light, friends. You’re all wonderful humans who deserve support, love, respect, and all of the positive feelings. I wish you the best.

xo, a very muddled and grateful jo

#nationalmentalhealthawarenessweek