We all know life is hard enough when you’re a reasonably normal and well-adjusted person. But if you’re like me and you suffer from depression, anxiety, and asshole inner demons, you know that life is a few (or many) steps past hard and can reach major effing nightmare.
I have not hit major effing nightmare but I am getting dangerously close and have, at the insistence of my husband and ex-husband, finally taken the step needed to take my life back and get my depression under control.
For those who don’t know, my ex-husband is one of my best friends these days and is someone I can count on for a listening ear. We may not have been compatible as husband and wife or even boyfriend/girlfriend but as friends, he’s a great person and I appreciate his kind words.
I don’t know what triggered my depression this time. Not much has changed other than a slightly more demanding class schedule but nothing I ordinarily couldn’t handle. The first few weeks of the semester I was under the impression it was just me adjusting to a new schedule. I denied being depressed.
But as the weeks dragged on, it became more apparent. I couldn’t sleep, my eating habits sucked and despite my best attempts to eat well I still reached for pizza and burgers and homemade nachos.
I struggled with homework and reading assignments. I couldn’t concentrate or stay focused. In the classroom I yawned often and couldn’t stop fidgeting. A one hour class felt more like three and the subjects themselves made me even more restless. And at first, I just attributed this to boredom. It happens. Some classes just simply suck for whatever reason.
It wasn’t until I left campus recently and started texting my husband about how pissed off I was about things that I finally realized it was about damn time to do something. Spending another 30 minutes on the phone with my ex and eventually breaking down into a puddle of tears further drove that point home.
I told my ex part of the reason I’ve held out is because I’d have plenty of days where I seemed happy and that my feelings were no big deal. I’d have an episode (for lack of a better word) but would wake up the next day and laugh at the silly shit like I always do. But inevitably something would bother me and I’d become angry or upset in no time at all.
Being the voice of reason that he is, he reminded me that I’m not the type to snap easily and me getting pissed at little things is a clear indication I needed help. And he was right, just like my husband.
Following our call I went to my laptop to look up the number for UNLV counseling services. And for a moment, I said to myself, “Oh come on. You don’t really need this. You’re just tired..again.” And it was that justification (again) that led me to dialing the number and scheduling an appointment.
Ultimately, I have had enough. I’m tired of feeling angry, lonely, exhausted and bitter. I’m tired of being scared to death of failing my classes this semester because depression is kicking my ass.
Am I still worried about stigmas and all that crap? Well, yea. Depression and mental issues do still carry a nasty (and often misinformed) stigma.
Some out there are still under the impression that it’s not that big of a deal and those of us who suffer should simply get over it. If getting over it were that simple I’d wake up tomorrow and it would be gone. Since it’s not, counseling and possibly medication to help with a chemical imbalance is necessary.
I’m almost certain I have a long road ahead simply because I’ve let this go for so long and I’ve let shit build up to unhealthy levels. I know life is not meant to be lived this way and I don’t want to feel like this any more. It’s not easy to admit I’ve been suffering, especially since it can often seem like I am happy.
Life is filled with so many wonderful and amazing things out there that it would be a damn shame to miss out on them because I let depression win. I’ll get better eventually.
