depression

Diving in Again

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Five-and-a-half years. That is how long it has been since I left this blog. It somehow doesn’t seem like it should have been that long ago.

A lot has changed since then, as you would expect. I mean, I stopped for a reason and all! Life got busy with the usual noise: buying a house, selling a house, dramatic work changes. And, it got busy with the less obvious noise: depression, anxiety, even more work changes. The stress, the tight schedule, and the never ending cycle of: “worry, survive, live, breathe, do it again,” took over even the oldest of my self care practices: the joy of writing. You see, I didn’t just stop here. I stopped everywhere.

I feel so small, yet my potential is large.

But, through it all, we’re still standing; still breathing; healing; and, most importantly, still growing even in our darkest hours. Yet I am still DEEP in some of those dark hours, spinning in self analysis. All the more reason to get back at it.

So here I am again, trying to push myself, because I want to be better, I need to know who Meredith is and to live my fullest self. I’m finding that creativity, from writing and drawing to cooking, baking and making art, still sits at the heart of who I am, and I need to share it. I need to break through this cloud of self loathing, this job that does not make me happy, and live for the joy and passion within. Find fulfillment.

Meaning, Beauty, Joy all found in the smallest of places. So I search, I cherish, I breathe.

When I started this blog, I used the template of a reading challenge to keep myself writing. It set perimeters to get me back into writing and reading. At the time, giving myself “homework” kept me moving, but when life became bombarded, it wasn’t enough to sustain me. This time, I’m being more intentional and much more personal. After all the stressors of the last 3-4 years, I find myself here, at 37 years old, realizing I don’t know “what I want to be do” and “who I want to be.” I know, not really such an uncommon problem, but it was a slap in the face for me to realize I’m exactly where I did not want to end up. It’s a sudden jolt of reality that you’ve just sort of fallen in one direction, and you want to be able to know you’ve actually chosen your direction. But big decisions have been really really difficult, so I am terrified to make that jump and go all in on something…anything…

But I want to dive into the deep end. I’m ready to start facing the fears I’ve spent so long running from. I’m tired of treading water.

I want to rediscover what it means to be me. Who Meredith really is.

This plan is already in action. I’ve started counseling, with intention this time, not a stressed out 4 free sessions with someone random. I found someone who fits and I must follow through. The writing is, in fact, part of that therapy. I’ve also been incorporating practices of Cognitive Behavior Therapy to help move through my depressive or anxious states. Now it’s time for more. Now it’s time to Live;

To stop being scared of making those big life decisions;

To start doing;

To live fully;

To really just be.

To BE.

Me.

Facing the world. Facing myself.

This time, I’m writing for the unknown;

For the future.

Let’s see where it goes.

Silence Can Be Telling

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Silence can be telling.

It suggests a coming storm; the calm before the thunderclouds burst and send forth a deluge.

It implies inner peace; a moment of meditation and thought on the mountain above the valleys of turmoil.

It reeks of fear and tension; the shadows formed from unspoken truths between brothers, sisters, enemies, neighbors.

It speaks of hope; the unsung dreams of millions yearning for something they cannot yet reach.

Mostly, silence tells us nothing without us.

For we are the ones speaking in the silence:

…dreaming…hoping…fearing…warning…

Photo by Mitch Dobrowner

My silence is no different.  It has been all of these things and yet none of them.  For I am the one who ultimately must make use and meaning out of my silence.  Last time I entered such a phase, not even writing for myself, I was in a darkness that has continued to haunt me to this day.  Self-doubt, fear of failure, the fraud police, and self-hate all kept me from seeing my way through.  As I’ve written before, eventually I found a way, but it’s easy to forget how much those shadows can cling.

For months now, the silence and shadows have been creeping back into my life, dimming the light a little.  Even as I have finally opened up about my struggle with depression, fear, self-loathing, and self-loving, I have found myself sinking again.  Life began to feel like wading through muddy water.  For awhile I was fatigued each day for no reason, physical reactions to my mental state.  I’ve isolated myself…just a little bit really…and I second guess myself at most turns.  My effectiveness at work has suffered (I hide it well so I don’t know how many even notice), and my motivation in general is stunted.  I’ve stopped caring as much (though the important things, my friends, family, creativity…I still care about those).  It doesn’t help that I’ve been at a crossroads in my life, trying to make decisions and move forward only to constantly have it thrown back at me that I might just not be worth it…or even adequate enough to consider (or warrant at least a response).  It only makes the shadows darker, makes my head foggier, my heart heavier, and my hope a little smaller.

You see, for the first time in years, I’ve actually thought about self-harm.

There, I said it.  The words that I’ve refused to say aloud.

Not suicide, nothing dangerous, not even cutting…but the thought of it…that feeling it might somehow…some way…release the built up pain and anxiety and fear for even just a moment.  In that moment…to feel the hope again, to feel grounded.

Let me be clear, I’ve never harmed myself.  The closest I’ve come is digging my nails into my arms…holding myself so tight that it helps me focus on the pain on my skin instead of the pain in my head and heart.  For most of you, and most of the people I try to explain this feeling to in person, it sounds completely and utterly crazy.  I’ve longed for someone who could say, “I understand.”  I have yet to find that person. Yes, I realize this urge is a problem.  It’s the same feeling I had the first time I asked for help back in high school.  I had that thought, that urge for pain, and I went sobbing into my mother’s arms.  I didn’t understand it at 17.  At 31, I’m starting to get it.

Once again, it’s this hope for release that has made me remember to stop being silent.  So here I am.

My final realization that I needed change came just over a week ago.  You see, this girl I knew, a beautiful 23 year old wonderful person, died.

Suddenly.

We weren’t close.  I hadn’t seen or spoken to her in years, but I did babysit her when she and her sister were small.  She lived next door to my cousins, and the four of them were the best of friends, which is how I ended up taking all of them to the pool or playing pretend in living rooms.

I was already stewing in my own emotional bile when this happened. I didn’t expect her death to impact me as much as it did.  However, the sadness and fatigue became deeper, darker, and I just couldn’t see through it all.  I guess, in the cliched way, it was my bottom.

I don’t want to be the 31 year old with no hope or motivation.  I don’t want to be sitting in the darkness glaring at myself.  And I don’t want to be afraid anymore.  I want to let go of the self-loathing and that fear of failure and discover positive moments hidden in the shadows.  I want to know that when my end comes, that I have lived, truly lived, and left something positive and real in my wake. I just hope I have years upon years to do so.

And so I’ve made a start, by talking: To my husband, my family, my friends. I’ve started to let them see this darkness, because it exists in me.  It will probably always be here, and if they can love that part of me too, then I have one less thing to fear, one less thing to loathe, and one more reason to see love within.  Also I’m going to start counseling, because that third party can help if I’m willing to let them.     I am definitely willing.

Already, little things like talking, writing, going out and actually doing have made a difference. I’m rediscovering the simple love of family: talking to them, being with them.  I’ve reached out to hopefully develop some new, fun, positive friendships.  Even a little wonderful private Facebook community has ended up being the best support group…something I hardly expected.  In there, I don’t need to speak to feel the outpouring of compassion and hope and to also feel the camaraderie with those who are struggling as well (sloth hugs to you beautiful folks).

So, the changes have begun, but it is just a start.  The difference this time is that I won’t let myself stay silent.  I’m holding myself accountable by being vocal.  This is no cry for help or attention.  Here, I am sharing my pain and fear, shedding the shame of it, and embracing hope.

I guess I made meaning in my silence after all.

Deep Thoughts ~ Depression, Living, Moving On

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Most of us probably have those days where we don’t know where to even begin let alone end. You know the ones I’m talking about.  From the moment you wake up, it’s time to crawl back to bed, hiding from your problems in the world.  Sadly, hiding never works. If it did, life wouldn’t be so painful. It also wouldn’t be so incredibly wonderful and inspiring. Getting past that pain only makes the world brighter and the options better, but you need to be willing to fight. Fight for what you’re worth.

I bring this up, because my own fight for this sense of self-worth and positivity seems to finally be reaching a level of stability after years of self-loathing. The transformation is far from over. You never really completely move past depression. It’s part of what shapes you, but you can learn to understand it, work through it.  Perhaps sharing my thoughts can helps someone else going through similar feelings. After all, we’re all together in this grand adventure called life, neighbors in each other’s tragedies and joys. Why not share them.

A few years ago, I let my situation get the best of me.  Everyday was a struggle to move, to leave my apartment, to face the decision to go to my classes at grad school, to go anywhere  Several times when I was home alone, I quite literally turned off all my lights and sat down on the floor of my closet and just cried.  It wasn’t my first battle with my emotions, and I know it won’t be the last, but unlike the puddle of a teen I was when I suffered my first heartbreak and first battle with self-hate, this time the hatred hit me deeper and lasted longer.

I knew from the first semester of my PhD program that it wasn’t the place for me. However, I had made the decision to try my hand at it. I was always good in school, always the academically sound one.  Since I was good at school, I thought that meant I should keep going.  I was following the logical path of: because I am good at A I should do A…not sound logic really.  I thought I was meant to teach college. At the beginning, I nearly took time off, doubting my own mind, but I was persuaded to go (and they offered me a phenomenal scholarship…it was meant to be, right?).  Since, I wasn’t opinionated enough on the matter, I listened to others and not myself.

And I paid the price.

For over four years, I played the game…barely.  My professors noticed, and eventually I had no choice but to leave the program.  There were many, MANY, tears. I gained weight and also drastically dropped some in a particularly high stress point. I pushed away people, nearly tore apart my marriage, and my self-confidence drastically decreased.  Everything I did suddenly become unworthy.  I went through counseling, briefly, but it was a short lived effort.  However, walking away from the program was one of the best decisions I ever made, but it wasn’t an easy one.

Even after I left, my self-worth suffered. I saw leaving the program as giving up, as a sign of my weakness. I was a disappointment to myself and I took that to mean I was also a disappointment to those around me.  I thought I wasn’t good enough to go anywhere, and let myself flounder quite a bit. Eventually, my mind started to clear, but the self-loathing remained to some degree, eating at the back of my brain while my body thought it was moving forward.

Those negative emotions are easy to hold onto. They become a strange perverted security blanket, acting as a false sense of self-value. By wrapping myself in the opinion that I was so bad at Things A or B, I simultaneously set myself apart, gave myself a new, twisted identity that at least meant I was being noticed, or different from those around me.  That blanket has been the most difficult thing to shed.

So what helped me move on?  I wish there was a magic answer.  The change hasn’t been any one thing.  Family, friends, new hobbies…all of these have been positive experiences, helping me change my view by simply being there. At work, I was promoted, and quickly learned how many untouched skills I actually possessed. Even at the highest moment of stress at work, instead of breaking down (well, at least not as often) I learned to let go.  There is only so much time in this life to weigh it down with stress and pain.

That attitude right there, is not one I would have been able to comprehend three years ago.

Really, what I think has been the biggest change: communication and support, as a giver not just a receiver.  My husband has been my greatest strength, though in the past he could be my worst enemy at times (as I was his).  The last two years, we’ve started talking more. I mean, we’ve always been talkers, but this time we both started to really listen in a different way. Sure, part of this is just living through more experiences, maturity, whatever. However, it’s also growing alongside and with one another. What I once took as negative comments, I started to hear as positive chances for change.  Now I can’t lie, sometimes this is still a struggle, but it’s improving every day.

Nothing is a miracle in this struggle. It will continue for the rest of my life as it will for everyone else, but there is one main thing I’ve learned which I hold onto everyday:

We are not alone.

Even in the darkest moments, on the bottom of that closet or the top of that cliff, there is a wide world of people struggling through the same feelings, pain, and joys.  Our emotions are only part of who we are, and we are, in turn, part of one massive evolving machine of life.  If you feel alone, reach out, even if it’s to a stranger across the internet. I beg you to remember you aren’t alone, even when you can’t see your way out of the darkness in your own mind.

Even if you don’t feel alone, reach out.  You never know what that one touch to another human being will spark.

It doesn’t hurt to talk, to listen, to make any small attempt at contact with another.   If this life is all we can know, we might as well be a positive force within it.

Just remember, your self worth does not come from others, even as you reach out to them and they to you.  It can only come from within.  Cultivate that value every day, and eventually, the results will astound you.

And if you need a jump-start, I suggest this video by zefrank1.