Mental Health

I've been thinking about this a lot lately, especially with two celebrity suicides this week (Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain).

In the spirit of transparency and the hope of people being more open in the future, here are my experiences.  (Though, I've always been fairly open about all my health stuff, mental included).

I have had anxiety for as long as I can remember.  Actually, that's not quite true.  I think it started around age six, when my sister was born. I'm not sure if it was a coincidence.  Once my sister was born, I had constant worry at night.  I would often check on her to make sure she was breathing.  I would have dreams about bad things happening, and being somehow responsible.  Around this point, I also developed some OCD tendencies.  I would check the doors to make sure they were locked (more than once, even though I'd checked them).  I would go around and unplug things, as I was worried about fire (any lamps I could reach, always the toaster, anything else around). 

At some point, this anxiety lessened.

I think depression started in middle school.  Partly because middle school was awful.  I was not a cute tween, and kids that age are so mean.  Plus, working through relationships at home was hard.  It is hard to be the middle kid.  Plus since my older sister is on the spectrum, I often played the role of oldest as well.  (And my main method of getting attention was causing trouble).  I always felt like I was getting the short straw: Jessica had privilege due to her disability (God, it feels so petty to type that, but as a kid, I couldn't see around that).  And my little sister had privilege because she was the youngest.  I had a couple meetings with a therapist, but it wasn't helpful.

In high school, things improved some.  I fell in with a closer group of friends.  People were much less mean, and I enjoyed school most of the time.  I got a boyfriend which helped with my confidence some (since I never really found myself attractive).  The depression was still there, but it was pretty far in the background.

Then came 2001, the beginning of the hardest period in my life.  It was the year my parents got divorced, I started college and Aaron left on his mission.  All of a sudden the people who loved me the most were all very far away.  And college wasn't what I thought it would be.  High school was easy for me, I put in minimal effort and got all As and Bs.  College was really different, I had to study for my classes, which I didn't really know how to do.  Plus, I didn't have friends in my classes like high school.  That first semester I got mostly Cs and a couple Bs.  Besides that, I had no clue what I wanted to do/major in, so I (in reality) wasted a lot of time.  Anyway, sometime in college, I tried anti-depressants for the first time: Lexapro.  Lexapro was the worst, I felt like I was in a fog all day, and didn't take them for long.  I just managed on my own, just being sad most of the time.

Since then, things have ebbed and flowed.  There was only one period where I felt as low as I did back then.  And it was at that point I started a regiment of anti-depressants.  When I was diagnosed with Crohns, it became a real possibility that I might not be able to get pregnant, because the medications I was on where not conducive to growing a fetus, and because I was not health enough in general to be pregnant.  I started seeing my current psychiatrist, and I did a few different group programs.  I finally found a medication that worked for me.  We have changed it a couple times over the years, but in general, I've felt well.

My anxiety kind of hangs out in the background.  It seems like it's mostly social anxiety.  It's annoying, because it's lonely.  I feel awkward, and I don't easily make friends.  Plus when I'm invited to things, it's really hard to go.  It sounds odd, unless you've experienced it (which I guess is true of many things).

I've never actively thought about suicide.  But, it crossed my mind passively, which doesn't make sense, unless you've gone through it.  It's kind of like just not wanting to exist anymore.  I heard an interview on Fresh Air five-ish years ago with Allie Brosh (the author of Hyperbole and a Half).  I was listening to it, while on a lunchtime walk, and what she said so resonated with me that I started crying (as I walked).  She put into words my jumbled thoughts of the past few years.  And while I knew other people were depressed, it made me realize there were people like me. 

Which brings be back to the reason for this post.  Mental health is really just health.  But it's not viewed that way.  It's secret, or shameful, or private, something.  In the grand scheme of things, my experience with depression and anxiety is fairly minor or maybe moderate at times.  But I am one of many.  And while things can feel so crushing at times (or for periods), they do get better.  But don't be afraid to speak up.  Ask for help.  It's a little less crushing to speak about it.