Struggling with Mental Health
I have fought anxiety and depression the majority of my life. When I was in high school, I had regular panic attacks that left me breathless and in a pool of my own tears. I would present myself as an outgoing, happy-go-lucky, overall content person. Honestly, I had no real reason not to be that person. I had a great upbringing, never wanted for anything, and my parents were extremely supportive and present. I played sports all year round, from soccer in the fall, indoor track in the winter, outdoor track in the spring, and soccer again in the summer. I was a social chameleon, fitting in with the jocks, the theater kids, and the smarty pants. But I always felt a little off. I spent time with friends after school and tried to be as social as I could so I didn’t have to go back home and sit in my room alone. I saw a therapist for a while on the request of my mother, and actually found the sessions to be really beneficial for me. But I decided to leave the state for college, and said goodbye to a lot of those familiar aspects of life.
In college I felt a little more free. I felt like I could make my own decisions on my own time and not have to answer to anyone but myself. Everything was great for the first few months, but then that sense of “off” came rushing back at me in full swing. I started having those panic attacks again, but this time they came with a sharp, shooting pain through my chest that forced me to take short shallow breaths and mimicked the feeling of being in a deoxygenated tank. It was absolutely terrifying, and it forced me to stop whatever I was doing until it passed. I started feeling weary about socializing for fear that the pain would start up again and people would think I needed an ambulance or something. My mom and I referred to it as “the phantom pain”. Why did we call it that? Because I went to every doctor, had every test done from EKGs to CT Scans, blood tests and more, and no one could identify the cause of my pain. Until I saw a therapist again, and they explained that constriction of the lungs was a very common side-effect of an anxiety attack.
I was soon after diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), and major depressive disorder. My options were to take medication, or find other ways to self-cope. Being a young, stubborn college kid, I chose self-cope, and eventually found marijuana extremely helpful. I smoked regularly for about three years, and was able to function with minimal attacks. I was a straight A student, graduated with honors, and went right into my Masters program after my Bachelors. Then I met my husband, who, at the time, was a federal agent. Suddenly smoking an illegal substance didn’t seem so appealing - not that he ever told me not to. I knew he was my person, and I didn’t want to put either one of us in a compromising situation. So I quit cold turkey… and the attacks started up again.
Here’s what I know… like.. really know.
Anxiety and depression are crippling, all-consuming, exhausting, and restrictive demons. Yeah yeah, I’ve heard all the babble about anxiety being a way for your brain to keep you on your toes and recognize potentially life-threatening situations or circumstances, or depression being seasonal and I “just needed some sun”… But that’s not what was actually happening in my case. I had genetic predispositions, divergent brain functioning, and I had been diagnosed with mental health disorders. When the attacks became too much, and I realized the hell I was putting my husband through, I decided to reconsider medication. This was no easy decision for me to make, mind you. I had never wanted to rely on a lab-produced chemical substance to support my mental health needs. But I had an undeniable revelation that I did not want to continue living the way I was. And realizing the alternative… scared the crap out of me. My brain was trying to kill me, and I wanted to take back control. I saw a doctor, and got onto medications to stabilize myself.
While I wasn’t completely gung-ho about medication at first, I cannot deny that the benefits have been immeasurable. In recognizing that I was genuinely feeling better, I started researching other ways to combat my disorders. I practiced mindfulness and meditation, read self-help books and attended in-person seminars with visionaries like Jay Shetty. I exercised regularly, got particular about who I spent time with and focused my energy on. Fast forward a few years… now, I’m finishing up my doctorate, I’m starting my own business, and I’m helping people every day. For all intents and purposes I am in control. I recognize when those sneaky thoughts and feelings creep up and try to consume me, but I know how to manage them. I want people who were in my shoes 8-10 years ago to know how to do the same thing, and I want them to know they’re not alone in this fight.
From childhood through adulthood, my journey with mental health has been a continuous battle. Each day presents new challenges, as I navigate feelings of anxiety, depression, and overwhelming self-doubt. The struggle for wellness is a recurring theme, often overshadowing moments of joy and connection. But I’ve chosen to look at that struggle as more of a challenge. I have survived, I have adapted, I have overcome every obstacle up to this point. There is no feasible reason I cannot continue to do so moving forward. So, challenge accepted.
Acknowledging my challenges has not only fostered my own resilience but has also ignited a passion for advocating mental health awareness and helping others on their own healing journeys. My experiences remind me that while the path can be fraught with difficulties, there is strength in vulnerability and hope in the progress toward wellness. So, how can I help?