My name is Mandy… and I am suffering from depression

I warn you this is very raw – it’s a wide open sore right now that has been festering for years, and this is one of my first steps to try and clean it out. It’s also kinda long (sorry, I had a lot to get off my chest). So your encouragement and kind words are welcome. But please don’t tell me what I should’ve done, or what I should do, or what I should try. I know you’d mean well, but right now, it would just make me feel worse – more incompetent, more embarrassed, more ashamed, and more angry at myself for not being able to kick the demons out of my head long before now.

I think it all started when I was a teenager – probably around 13 or 14. As I got older, on the rare nights I was home, I’d shut myself in my room, playing music that added to my sadness as loud as I could, candles lit all over my room, writing poems. And for a little while, I would cut my arms. Not very badly – I’m really sensitive to touch and couldn’t tolerate that much. But just enough so I could only feel that physical pain – not the pain in my heart and head. My low swings usually revolved around hormones and break-ups but never lasted super long. The over-achiever perfectionist in me always won out, and I went to school, work, band, clubs, hung out with friends, and maintained excellent grades.

This pattern has continued through my adult life. But I’ve noticed when it comes to relationships, I tend to always be on an emotional roller coaster. Perhaps because that is when I feel most vulnerable. That is when I feel most inadequate. While these demons in my head have existed for a long time, I’ve done okay at keeping them from getting out of control. There is usually something that has kept be grounded. Outside influences of course affects my ability to overcome it, and I still never stayed down long enough to really admit to having… the “d” word. To me, admitting that I have depression, and admitting I can’t beat it this time on my own, is like one more failure I add to my list. I’ve been able to keep it under control this long, why can’t I now?

True, after Don Queco passed away, I started going to counseling. Things that used to help me break free of the gloom and doom weren’t helping anymore. Like prayer. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t feel comfort from the spirit anymore. I figured Heavenly Father just got so tired of my whining or poor choices, that he would just as soon wash his hands of me. I figured I had disappointed Him so much, I was now totally alone.

But then that summer I met Edward. He was kind and compassionate and knew what I was going through. So I didn’t feel so alone. I duct taped myself together and kept going.

I still had a very rocky next year. I lost Don Queco, lost Edward, was trying to finish school, but still felt very much alone and abandoned. Logically, I knew I had plenty of friends and family who loved and cared about me. But when I was in that dark place, nothing broke through. Nothing made a difference.

But then I met Kermit and things got better for a while. I still had ups and downs, but I dealt with them as much as I could. Running seemed to help a lot and I still felt Don Queco watching over me. Now Kermit and I have been together almost two years. And he didn’t run for the hills. Last August when I found out I was being let go from my job, my life turned upside down. Within 9 months, I lost my job, didn’t finish an Ironman, got engaged, got married, blended families, remodeled a house in one month, started a new job that has challenged me in unexpected ways, watched as my husband started a very demanding and challenging new career, got braces, and 12 days ago I sliced my hand while trying to separate some frozen turkey burgers. It may not seem like a big deal, but I haven’t been able to swim or do a lot of the things I’m used to and been in a lot of pain. Starting to feel desperate, I wrote the following poem last week:

Numb

I want to run away.

Leave everything behind.

But how do you escape

your own mind?

I’ve tried everything:

prayer

exercise

pretending

eating healthy

being around people

listening to uplifting music

fake it till you make it.

But the war inside my head

just won’t stop.

The voice taunts me –

“If you don’t stop this,

your husband will leave,

just like the last one.”

“If you were stronger, better,

you would be able to break free.”

“You’ll never be good enough.”

“You’re not worth anyone’s time or help.”

I feel ashamed

of who I am.

I’m afraid

of the consequences

if I can’t overcome.

I’m not afraid of dying,

but of this loneliness lasting

for eternity.

I worry everyone,

especially my husband,

will just think

I’m making it up

for attention.

or think I’m beyond repair

with no ROI.

Everyone around me

is so stressed

with other things –

work, kids, poor health –

I don’t want to add

one more thing to their plate.

So I try to hide.

Try to stay in the background.

I go to work

work out

take care of my kids,

the house.

But I’m tired.

Tired of pretending

and fighting to hang on,

hoping it will all

just go away.

And leave me ALONE!

I have no desire

to try anymore.

Because deep down,

I know I’ll never

succeed – at least not in this life.

20 years of failure, loss, and disappointment

weighs heavily on my weak shoulders.

But even if I died,

Heavenly Father

wouldn’t welcome me

in His kingdom.

I’d just bring everyone down

like here in this world.

I no longer

feel the spirit.

I’m not worthy.

But I know

if I could just feel my Savior’s love,

I could kick

the demons

out of my head.

I’m not worthy of love.

Too broken

to be fixed.

And because I think these thoughts,

I feel even worse.

More hopeless.

It never ends.

I have much to be grateful for

but still feel

worthless.

I don’t want to feel

sad all the time.

I don’t like

hating myself.

What’s wrong with me?!

Why can’t I stop this?!

I can’t sleep without pills.

I can’t get help.

I’m on the clock at work

and can’t make up time

for leaving early.

I can’t quit –

people are depending on me

for insurance

and to pay off debt.

The only thing

I can do

is be numb.

 

That pretty much sums up the dark abyss I’ve been floating around in the past few months. But it keeps getting worse. And unlike times before, I just can’t seem to break through the fog. The stupidest things bring me to tears. Last week I basically worked, ate, trained, and slept. I had no desire to do anything. I didn’t care if my husband left, or if I left, or if I got hit by a car, and I just didn’t want to wake up in the morning. Every night I prayed the two sleeping pills would be enough to keep me asleep forever.

I am fully aware that it is up to me to choose to be happy. It is up to me to act or react in a positive way to whatever is going on in my life. It is nobody else’s responsibility but mine to choose to be happy. I also understand I have irrational thoughts that are lies, like worrying my husband will leave or just be mad at me or think I’m lying. I know he wouldn’t do that. But that’s the depression talking. Like I said in my poem, I have a good husband, good kids, we have good jobs, food to eat, bills paid, a home and family and friends who love us. But for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been so apathetic that not only could I not break free of the negative crap in my head, I had no desire to.

Then early yesterday morning I decided not to work out and get a little more sleep instead. And I had the worst dream. In it, Kermit and I were in school, in my old high school building. We got into a fight about something, and he said, you know what Mandy, this just… I stopped him and said, no, don’t. Don’t say it. Don’t say this isn’t going to work. Don’t say you’re leaving me. I woke up soon after that feeling this awful sense of sadness, anxiety and raw fear. So much so that I felt weak, sick to my stomach. My first thought was, well, this feeling sucks, but at least it’s better than the complete apathy you’ve been feeling. It was like a wake-up call. For the first time in a long time I felt gratitude. I knew I had much to be grateful for, but all I’d felt was sadness for so long. I finally felt something other than the nothing (Never Ending Story…). I told my husband before I left for work how truly grateful I was for him, that I really loved him and believed in him and knew he could do a good job at work. That was the most genuine, heart-felt thing I’ve been able to say for a while. I’ve mostly just been pretending, and feeling horrible about it. I knew I loved people, knew I had a lot to be grateful for, have tried to be encouraging to people, but really felt nothing. Even on my wedding day, I felt nothing but emptiness. And it has nothing to do with my awesome husband. It is the big d word. Depression seems to have a life of its own. A power I don’t understand. I’ve known other people who have had it, but I just didn’t get it. Until now. And let me tell you, it sucks.

It sucks trying to go through the motions day in and day out when all you want to do is stop living and stop trying. It sucks feeling like you’ve let everyone down, most especially yourself, your kids, and your husband because you just can’t fight off the opaqueness. It sucks to have to lie to everyone and tell them you’re okay when really you want to scream, no, I’m not okay, I’m a prisoner in my own head and I hate myself right now! It sucks thinking that even if you did die, no one on the other side would welcome you because you gave up, quit. And thinking my kids would be scared for life. But at the same time thinking they’d all be better off without me because they wouldn’t have to worry about why mom is crying… again. I’m an extrovert. I’m energized when I’m around people, and have good conversations with people. But lately, I’ve started avoiding people. Working out hasn’t been that stress reliever it once was. All I worry about is how much weight I’ve gained for no particular reason, and fretting over trying to eat healthy when I have no desire to cook or prepare meals, go shopping, or clean up after a meal. It’s just too overwhelming. But then I stress that I’m not doing all I can to have a healthy body and mind.

And the maddening cycle continues. With the string of “you’re worthless”, “you can’t do anything right” and “what is wrong with me?!” over and over and over and over. All day. Every day. It’s worse than the scariest movie you ever saw.

Yesterday afternoon, I watched a video that also brought tears to my eyes. And for the first time in a long time, I started feeling something I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like: hope. I have said some of the same things he did – God, why would you want to help me? I feel so worthless, I’ve made so many mistakes. I can’t feel you anymore. My prayers have been filled with those teary pleas lately. When he mentions that Heavenly Father was with him every step of the way, I started crying. And the words of a song primary aged children in our church often sing came to my mind:

1. Heavenly Father, are you really there?

And do you hear and answer ev'ry child's prayer?

Some say that heaven is far away,

But I feel it close around me as I pray.

Heavenly Father, I remember now

Something that Jesus told disciples long ago:

"Suffer the children to come to me."

Father, in prayer I'm coming now to thee.

2. Pray, he is there;

Speak, he is list'ning.

You are his child;

His love now surrounds you.

He hears your prayer;

He loves the children.

Of such is the kingdom, the kingdom of heav'n.

Then a friend of mine posted a blog that really got to me also. And now, I feel like I’m getting closer to having the strength and desire to climb out. But I know it’s going to be hard. I’m scared. Scared if I start trying, I’ll fall back in and won’t be able to climb out next time. I know all anybody has is hope and faith, which are two things that are extremely difficult for anyone with depression to feel. At this point, I figure all I can do is hope I’m one of the lucky ones – one of those who for some unknown reason, has the strength to get out of the darkness, rather than succumbing.