Sometimes I question my choice to be so open about my depression. It's not an easy thing to do, and although I write a lot about my struggles, doing so doesn't feel easy in a lot of ways. I guess it feels easy to write about it. To just let the words rush out of me, putting all those thoughts down, and I don't really consider the aspect of people will read my words. When I'm talking about my depression in person though, it's easy for me to "lose my cool", my teeth chatter out of nervousness, and sometimes I break down in tears. Something about writing makes it so much easier for me.
I do get a lot of really supportive and appreciative feedback on the blog. I now have a lot more people in my life who have opened up to me about their own struggles, and many of them feel a sense of connection, of comfort, of support in reading about my life. I hope that is the case for all my readers. And I hope that with my words, I can give many people a better understanding of mental illness and break down some of the stigmas.
Despite all the good support, I notice the ones who "ignore" it all, choose not to respond (for whatever reason) when I do share, and sometimes I get "support" and advice from people who mean well, but don't really get depression. I don't say this to discourage others from sharing what works for them, etc, because when framed that way, it can do a lot of good.
For some background, I was in a bad place yesterday and I decided to reach out on facebook for support. Perhaps it was a bit more negative than most facebook posts and it sounded pretty desperate, but you also have to know I felt pretty desperate at the time. And I wanted to put it out there honestly, without any of the cutesy facebook things to downplay what I was going through.
I did get a lot of great support. In the form of facebook responses, likes/reactions, texts, phones calls, facebook messages, and emails.
But I felt some real pain from one attempt at support yesterday. And it put a damper on everything, and that's probably a reason that I don't make a good, tough person to be blogging and putting myself out there. I don't deal with criticism well, and I never have. But when that criticism comes in the form of "stop feeling sorry for yourself", I do lose my cool.
I don't want to go into much detail, and I still owe it to that person to explain why it doesn't help, but to me that's Depression 101. You don't ever tell someone with depression to "snap out of it", "stop feeling sorry for yourself", "just think positively". I get that people mean well, but before you go giving advice for an illness you clearly don't understand, read up on it.
I found this article about supporting someone with depression and thought it was really good.
She states at one point:
My depression is well-managed, and I still have very bad days. But even on my good days, I spend a lot of time and energy managing my mood, my sleep, my diet, my activity level, and my relationships so that I can continue to function.
This so rings true for me.
Depression is an illness of the brain. It is real, even if you don't always see it. It is a struggle, sometimes constant, and it often requires medical and/or therapeutic treatment, as well as a strong support network.
So I posted something super negative on facebook. I was in a place where I was already getting a lot of support- from family and Nasser, I had blogged, I had tried coping mechanisms at home. I had had therapy earlier that morning. And I was still in a really bad place. Maybe you think I should have taken myself to the hospital, but based on my previous experience, I have no interest in going back there. Maybe it's good for getting out of "crisis" mode, but for me, the hospital doesn't help much long term. One of the great reasons to be in a psychiatric hospital is to have the safe, controlled environment in which you can find medication that works. For me, with depression, that wouldn't work so easily. Antidepressants usually take 4-6weeks to kick in, so that would put me in the hospital for a long time. The trauma of that "failure" (the way I would think about that, being in a hospital for months at a time) would have such negative effects on me that it wouldn't be worth it. We all remember that I consider myself a failure because I couldn't nurse RG... even though I exclusively pumped breastmilk for a whole year. How stupid and irrational is my thinking sometimes, right? And yet, I always see both sides of the coin. I see those emotional, negative thoughts and my rational side knows that those thoughts are ridiculous. But when I'm in a depressive episode, it's very difficult for my rational side to show itself, at all.
I am doing better today. Recovering from the vulnerability hangover of having shared so openly and honestly yesterday. I am recovering from the painful and ignorant advice I was given yesterday. I am recovering from the shame and embarrassment of having shared, of having required so much support. And I'm trying to be kind to myself and remind myself that there is no shame in reaching out for help.
Here I am today, working at being better.
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