Overdue Explanation and Apology

I’m not entirely sure how to start this, so I guess I’ll just jump into it? Why not? Here goes.

I’ve struggled with depression and anxiety since I was eleven. Various traumatic life events contributed to these getting worse as I got older, things I will not go into here. Fast-forward to last year, when I made the choice to move over a thousand miles away from pretty much everyone I knew and my strongest source of support. At first, I felt like it was the best decision I had ever made. I was finally setting out on my own. It was at an embarrassingly later age than I would have liked, but it was still happening. And then more changes happened. That was when depression and anxiety kicked in full force.

I’ve been on several different medications at this point and have discovered I have medication-resistant major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, PTSD, and OSDD. Occasionally, I will have a day where I am great. No depression, anxiety, nothing. I’m crazy productive, I’m positive, I sleep well, don’t have any fatigue. I would say in a good week it’ll be one out of seven days that happens. And that’s a good week. Usually, I am super low in physical energy (definitely not mental, though! *eye twitch*), I’m exhausted and sleepy but can rarely nap, I’m so anxious it feels like my insides are rattling, and depressed enough that I have some pretty dark thoughts.

All of this has had a severe effect on my writing, to the point where I don’t even feel like I can call myself a writer because I’m not even doing the craft. Even doing school stuff is a struggle. I’m supposed to be doing podcast stuff, and that’s been…lacking, to say the least. My house is more often a mess than not, and I’m really wrestling with my faith and what I believe. I feel forgotten and ignored. And honestly, I feel like I’ve been abandoned by the one thing/person who was supposed to be there even when no one else is. I’m also incredibly, incredibly lonely. I’m doing things to get out and be around people, but it’s exhausting to mask all the time. And it’s deeper than just wanting people. I want my person, who will be there when I need a hug, or to just lay with me when I’m sobbing in bed, and who will also celebrate those amazing happy days with me.

Do I regret moving to SC? Yes, and no. I left my tribe. I think I am slowly building one here, but it’s nothing like my NH loves. I know Zoom is a thing, and we’ve done that, but in person, physical fellowship just can’t be beat. Here, though, I feel like my own person, for better or worse. Plus, I moved my dad down here into his own place and I have not seen him this happy since before my mom died. That is a huge reason why I’m not sorry I moved.

Two weeks ago, I was at the lowest I’ve been since I was in my twenties. I was out doing errands, depression and anxiety heightened like crazy for some reason, and was thinking about an easy way to end it when I got home. Obviously, that didn’t happen, but it came close. Thanks to the well-timed call from a dear friend who sat in the call with me for 20 minutes while I ugly cried, I was okay. My therapist threatened hospitalization, but I’m doing all I can to avoid that.

So, what am I doing to help myself? Aside from therapy, I attend a mental-health support group every week, and this coming Monday I am having an assessment done for an intensive outpatient program that will likely suck big time, but I also know is necessary. I also have a sweet baby girl kitten who has been highly sensitive to my moods since she was only a few months old. When she knows I’m too upset, or switchy, or dissociating, she runs into the room and yells at me, or crawls up on my chest and makes me focus on her. I have had cats in the past whom I have loved, but Luna is legitimately a God-send.

I’m sure some people reading this are wondering why I decided to write this, least of all post it on such a public forum. Well, I’m doing it as a way of both explanation and apology. I owe my readers an apology. You’ve been waiting for book five for far too long. I remember making promises to several of you at different signings that I will not be a Martin and abandon the series. I don’t intend to break that promise. I owe an apology to my podcast cast for making this whole process take way longer than it should. And I owe an apology to friends and family. I haven’t been my genuine self with anyone for a very long time. Masking is something I do without even thinking about it, because I’m so afraid of being too much, too often.

Anyway, that’s where I am. I want to tell you that I’m going to turn it around, starting today. That I’m going to bust out a chapter or an episode this weekend. I’d love to be able to tell you I’m going to be in a better space next time we talk or see each other. The truth of the matter, however, is that this is something that’s going to take me time to work through. Please continue to be patient with me. I’m doing my best. Somedays that looks like cleaning a room of my house, making an actual meal, or even getting some writing done. Somedays, it looks like laying on the couch alternating between crying, watching something on tv, or playing Animal Crossing. Some days it’s just sleeping. I’m doing what I can. It’s a day at a time right now. Sometimes it’s an hour or a minute at a time. But I’m doing my best.

If you made it this far, thank you. I appreciate you.

Adventures in Depression

I'm not exactly sure when it happened. For years I'd managed to keep everything under control, and not just on the outside. Sure, I got good at hiding it for awhile, but at some point I wasn't "faking it until I was making it", I was actually doing all right. And it lasted for quite a few years. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, it hit me. It was this sudden weight tied to my ankles and heaviness in my chest. I knew what it was but I was afraid that if I gave it a name I would be admitting it had returned. I was sad. I was tired. I was lonely.

I was depressed.

For safety sake, I'll say here that this is a trigger warning for what you will find between the stars. And some of what you read may be unsettling. Especially if you only know me as the happy, smiling girl you see at church every week, or the producer who is always giggling and cheerful in cast meetings. You have been warned.

Admitting I was depressed was such a hard thing to do. Harder than anyone knows. *In fact, many don't know that in my early twenties my depression was so bad that I had suicidal thoughts on more than one occasion. I remember nights I happened to be alone in my apartment, sitting on the floor and having vivid imaginations about how to go about doing it. Obviously I never went through with it, but I did find other very unhealthy ways to cope.* I suppose cope isn't the best word to use. Distract would be more accurate I suppose. But back then I had nothing going on. I had precious few friends, health issues no one understood, anxiety beyond description, no job, and no real picture of my future. I saw no way out and I had plenty of reasons to be depressed. Now? Now....everything is so different.

Post Secret

I've never had so many truly awesome things going on at once in my life. Let me tell you, when you ask God to use you and mean it with your whole heart...hang on. Because He'll take you for a ride. Don't ask to be used if you don't really want to be used. I'm just saying.

For awhile last year my relationship with God was a little strained. Not because of Him but because of me. I was questioning everything I thought He was telling me to do, all the while asking to be led in the direction He wanted me to go. I knew I was doing it but I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't trust enough to really, well, trust. It's like I was asking a cartographer for the right road to take, then asking a barber, a shoe salesman, and a blind man what they thought the cartographer's very straightforward directions meant. Texas didn't happen. Ben and I didn't work out. My car....my car... So I kind of kept my distance from God without moving too far away, if that make sense.

I knew, at least I felt, I had disappointed Him. So I kept Him at arm's length until fairly recently, actually. Through a group I was part of at church I had things stripped away and it was like a new beginning for my spirituality. That was when I asked God to use me. It was the true cry of my heart. And He began using me. Sometimes in ways I wouldn't have even expected. But then things He was doing with me and through me were amazing. So when did the bad stuff come back, and why couldn't I get rid of it?

For a few weeks I was having random anxiety attacks over silly things. Sometimes over nothing at all. Then I started having them in the middle of the night. They weren't things that woke me up, but happened in very vivid dreams I couldn't escape. So I'd wake up the next morning exhausted because my body had reacted as though I were having these massive attacks. A very dear friend of mine began praying for me (as I know others were) and the panic attacks subsided. But sleep was still elusive for awhile. I was so afraid of sleep that I did what I could to stay awake. And when I did fall asleep I could constantly wake up in fear of falling too deep asleep. 

Then there is the depression. I'll have you know I have never been happier in my life before than I am at this moment. But I've also never felt more broken. Wounded. Exposed. Raw. Insanely lonely. I hurt, and most days I hurt deeply. And for no reason. I praise God through it all because I know it's what I'm supposed to do (SO thankful for Alanna Story's newest album!)...but it won't go away.

Some Christians believe with everything in them that medication for depression and anxiety is a cop out. They'll tell you that you need to pray harder, or that there is some sin nature that is separating you from God and allowing these oppressive feelings to control you. I say that's crap. I say, unless you've ever struggled with these issues and have been on medication for it, you can't understand. It's not a crutch, it's not something to hide behind, and depression/anxiety not something anyone can willingly turn on or off.

For those who have the time (and can overlook a bit of language) I suggest you read this entry in "Hyperboloe and a Half" as well as part two because they are so accurate. I was there before for all of it from beginning to end. For a long time. I'm not going to allow myself to get there again.

So next week I'll opt to pick up the phone and call someone, a professional who will let me cry in her office while I try and will and pray away this chemical imbalance in my brain that makes me more prone to anxiety and depression than some than cry over a bowl of milk and soggy Wheaties. And instead of worrying about how people are going to judge me as I use to, I'll remind myself of the truth; that there is absolutely nothing wrong with seeking this type of help. Science has proven depression and anxiety are not simply "mood disorders" but real medical issues. If someone judges me for looking to correct that chemical imbalance they also judge the person who takes vitamins to make up for deficiencies, who takes cold medicine for a nasty cough...anyone who seeks medical treatment for any medical ailment.

This long-winded post is mostly my confession, but also an offer of encouragement to anyone else out there that may be struggling. Don't ever feel ashamed for asking for help and actively seeking it out. Ever.