The Life of a Mourning Dove

DO NOT STOP. WHEN YOU GET THERE IT WILL BE SO WORTH IT. I AM SO SERIOUS. I have had a bad counselor and a good counselor and I would go through a hundred bad counselors if that meant I got to have the peace I found with Sam. Jennifer was not good for me. She made me feel like my problems were huge and scary and that I was a hopeless cause. Then I met Sam. She was like a friend with a degree in psychology. I’m very lucky that I met Sam on the second try, I know a lot of people don’t find their fit that soon but it was so worth it. In my sessions with Sam, I tell her things about my life and my childhood and she asks me questions about why I think about things the way I do. She tells me stories about her life too and helps me feel more normal than I had in a long time. You’ve got to keep going until you find your fit. It will be worth all the work. I can’t describe how exactly I knew that Sam and I would be a great fit, but I knew within the first session that she could help me. I’ve talked to a lot of people similarly afflicted and many have expressed that they gave up on counseling because ‘it just didn’t work.’ I’m not an expert, but I don’t think that’s possible. A counselor should be your friend who helps pull you out of the dark. Sam turns on lots of lights in my head for me. She reminds me that what I’m feeling isn’t crazy and that I’m not a bad person for feeling bad some days. If you think counseling doesn’t work for you, maybe counseling with that counselor doesn’t work for you. My vote is try again. And again and again and again until you find someone who can turn on the lights for you. Make sure to give your poor psyche some breaks though, especially if it keeps not working. You know if/when you need to give up better than anyone else but don’t be afraid to try.

I am a melodramatic person (mostly unintentional) and I have had a variety of explosive episodes in a variety of embarrassing situations. I’ve stormed out of class, sobbed in class, and related my suicide story to a very confused acting class while hyperventilating and sobbing (I’m super glamorous), so a fair amount of people were familiar with my situation before I was 100% open about it. Most people didn’t say anything and some people shared their stories with me – and everything in between! The latter usually went like this, I totally understand what you’re going through – I have depression too and it gets better. Come talk to me if you need anything” the gesture itself is incredibly sweet but sometimes it sounds to me like, “I have depression! But I’m way better at it than you! I don’t break down crying in class all the time like you do! I’m like the BEST at depression and you basically suck for not being as good at it as me!” And yes, the logical part of my brain understands that the act is one of support and caring but it makes me feel like such a failure. Or it makes me feel like I’m not alone and I’ll find a way through it. But! My point is this, people won’t get what works for you and what makes you feel better if you don’t tell them. Those girls that reached out to me when I mentioned I was struggling with mental illness were probably giving me what they wanted at the time. They didn’t know it made me feel like a failure – they were just trying to help. I have responded to some of those girls that that kind of support makes me feel crappy about myself and I got back the loveliest notes about them understanding the pain of the battle and acknowledging that we go through it in our own way. They said, I don’t understand what you are going through right now but I have been through something similar and I’m sorry. That’s what I needed from them. Weirdly, other people with depression/anxiety/mental illness are really, really supportive of whatever you need to cope if you just tell them. No one can read minds, friends. If you’re not strong enough to respond or even read/hear the wishes of wellness, I’m 98% sure whoever is giving these wishes will understand. Come back later if you can because no one means to misunderstand what you need.

Seriously, though. Mental health is still something that people don’t like to talk about. It’s a subject that is spoken only in hushed tones with a fair bit of stigma. I think it’s highly unnecessary but that’s the way it is right now. I HAVE ANXIETY AND DEPRESSION. I’M OKAY MOST DAYS BUT SOMETIMES ITS HARD. That wasn’t that hard. Weird. Anyway, people won’t get it sometimes and that sucks. Some people will try to convince you that it’s all in your head and, to quote a wonderful (albeit fictional) man, “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?” (Albus Dumbledore/J.K. Rowling). It’s in your head and it’s real. Some people will try to convince you that antidepressants are a con from BIG PHARMA and I don’t know if that’s true or not but mine make me feel better and I don’t care if it’s just placebo (and as far as therapy goes, I think EVERYBODY could benefit from some). And it will be some of the people you love more than anything in the world and that HURTS. It feels like the people you trust the most don’t believe you and wow that does some nasty stuff to your psyche. I don’t have have any tips for making it sting less and I don’t have any arguments that have proven effective – most people believe what they believe. Be honest as much as you can but don’t exhaust yourself trying to prove anything. Hopefully, the world will figure it out and mental illness will be treated like any other illness but until then! We will carry on.

Don’t lie to people who love you.

I tell people that I love them. Love has never been a word or an idea that has scared me. I believe in it more than I believe in most things. Someone said somewhere that humans need love so much because it is the closest thing we have to magic and I am so terribly struck by that. It’s so true. To love and feel loved is truly magical. I say it all the time because I never want anyone I love to feel worthless. I couldn’t stand that, it would kill me. I guess I mean that I say ‘I love you’ all the time because nothing makes me happier than hearing it. You fight hardest to give what you need the most. So, I don’t think ‘love’ should be a special word reserved only for the ones closest to you. I think love is the idea that you would miss someone if they were gone. That’s what love means to me. I love my friends and acquaintances and teachers and coworkers and family and strangers and everybody. Dear reader, I love you. I would miss you if you left this world in search of peace.

Most people are pretty chill about stuff. Most people are totally cool cancelling plans if they know you’re sad and need to stay home to hide. And if they’re not cool with that, you probably shouldn’t be friends with them. I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve; from day one I have always said exactly how I’m feeling to anyone who asked (and lots of people that didn’t). But I started to fake it so people didn’t worry (by ‘people’ I mean my mom) and lying was easier than saying things that would make other people sad for me. Some days life was just really hard and I couldn’t do it like a normal person and I would start to cry for almost no reason (I say almost because it didn’t seem like a good enough reason at the time to cry and didn’t seem like a good enough reason it hindsight but it was a reason). Instead of saying I wasn’t okay, asking to take a minute, or anything else that sounds resolving and not avoiding, I’d just say I really needed to sneeze. That’s why my eyes were tearing up – I needed to sneeze! I didn’t want to admit that I was sad or angry and that what I really needed was to either process what I was feeling or distract myself until I was able to process what I was feeling. It’s hard to tell people what you feel and what you need from them but you gotta. My mom understands now that if I get overwhelmed with feelings, I need to lie down for a minute and catch my breath. Now all I need to do is tell her I’m a little overwhelmed, and she’ll give me a minute. Most people who love you want to help you! Tell them how you feel so they can.

Right now, there’s a lot of controversy about 13 Reasons Why and how it is portraying mental illness in a bad light and that it’s too graphic. I get all these concerns – I totally feel you guys but here’s where I’m at with it: this thing may not reflect your mental illness experience but it probably reflects someone else’s. No one goes through mental illness in the same way and if your experience isn’t being represented, find a way to make it be. Hell, that’s a big part of why I’m writing this! I guess my point is, don’t assume that people are trying to hurt you. That part is hard as hell but give it a shot. I don’t feel represented by 13 Reasons Why (I’m also not watching it because I think it would be too much for me but I have read the book so I get the jist) but I’ve read some feedback of people for whom it hit close to home. I think art of all kinds should be allowed to exist – especially if it’s the kind of art that is trying to help people. I do think there should be more art in the world that addresses mental illness in a way that shows recovery. One of my beloved friends who is also depressed and anxious said to me once, “how come on TV all they ever show is mental illness people going crazy and committing suicide? Is that all I have to look forward to?” And no. It’s not. I am recovering. There are so many people out in the universe that are recovering and maybe you can to. Look forward to recovery. Do what you can to get there. I have faith enough for the both of us.

What do you listen to over and over? What show do you go back to? What makes you all tingly? For me, it was music. Matilda,specifically. If you’re not familiar with the show, it’s beautiful. It touches my soul in a way I can’t quite explain. There’s a song, I’m Here sung by a man in a story Matilda tells, it’s a father to a daughter and he holds her and tells her he will protect her from everything. That’s what I needed. To feel like someone was going to take care of me and protect me from the scary things inside my head. I didn’t need a dad – I love my dad and I know he loves me more than anything. But that song stuck with me and I listen to it on repeat when I’m lying on the floor crying because I just can’t anymore. I’ve already mentioned Once and that one stuck with me too. The music is generally very soft and slow with powerful messages. In Falling Slowly? “You’ve warred with yourself and suffered enough, it’s time that you’ve won.” I remember sending that to my mom when I was feeling a bit better. I cried, it resonated with me so much. I was exhausted. I was fighting a war in my head and I just wanted to win. That hit me like a ton of bricks. What hits you like a ton of bricks? I knew I wanted someone to protect me from I’m Here, and I knew I just wanted to win from Falling Slowly. I’m sure Sherlock Holmes or something has said that theres no such thing as a coincidence and while I don’t think that’s true, I do think that lots of things aren’t. Think about what strikes a cord in your soul, maybe that’s something you need.

Talking through what I’m feeling and thinking can help – sometimes I want someone to talk back and sometimes I don’t. Calling my mom works or leaving a long message for my boyfriend works too but only sometimes. My mom answers 98% of the time and she gets that my head is a little screwy and that sometimes I’m a little irrational so she can offer good advice or just listen and offer sympathy. Other times I want to talk out loud without someone talking back to me but I still want it to be going somewhere. Does that make any sense? I’ll text Jacob and tell him not to answer the phone so I can rant or cry knowing my words are going somewhere but that they can’t incite an argument or even a response (I left some very long, very rant-y ones after the most recent presidential election that I told him he should just delete. It’s nice. It took a long time for me to figure out how to reach out to other people for help but people who love me will always want to help if they can. I have to remind myself that people want to help me and that I’m not bothering them with my problems. Things I’ve learned, people. Things I’ve learned.

Comment or message me if you have some that have worked for you. I’ve only got my experience to go off of but this takes a village of crazy/awesome people.

I sleep a lot. Sometimes I sleep through the night and nap for most of the day – sleep is one of my primary coping mechanisms. Sometimes taking a nap when I’m stressed or sad or angry can help but sometimes I can’t sleep no matter how much I want to. In those cases, I put Netflix or TV on for a couple hours to take my mind off of whatever I’m thinking about. I like to watch something funny in a stupid way that I’ve seen a million times, like Family Guy, Friends, American Dad, or Futurama. Those shows make me laugh and I’ve seen all the episodes at least once (I’ve watched Friends SO MANY TIMES) so I can fade in and out without getting confused. I know they all have a happy ending so I can’t get stressed out about the conflicts – it’s what works for me. I have to remember that I can’t watch anything too sad or too angry when I’m feeling particularly depressed – I was watching House all the way through and had to switch to Friends because I was getting too sad. That’s one of those things I had to learn too, how to stop myself from spiraling down a sad scary hole of my own making. If I get too sad or too stressed, I re-watch Friends!

Sleep and TV are not perfect coping mechanisms because too much of either actually make you more depressed (because mental illness sucks) and relying on distraction is just a bandaid. I’m learning how to rationalize my depression and anxiety so I don’t need the bandaid as long or as frequently. I’m not super good at that yet but baby steps! 

 

Stay tuned for more slightly above average coping mechanisms!

I wanted everything to go back to normal. I wanted to sleep and go about my life like nothing had happened April 2nd.

But I had been wheeled out of my dorm on a stretcher sobbing and screaming. It was kind of hard to pretend that nothing had happened and the school was freaking the freak out. My on campus counselor called me in for an emergency session and the head of the counseling department called me and a lady in the dean of students office called me. I quickly became cynical and angry. It seemed like all they wanted to do was ensure that I wasn’t going to sue them or commit suicide on campus (don’t worry guys – I’ll try not to damage your reputation with my emotional anguish because it is about YOU). Whether or not that was the goal, that’s what it felt like. My roommate/bff and I stopped speaking and chose not to live together for the next year (if you’re thinking of blaming her for abandoning me, plz don’t. A suicidal, angry, and needy af roommate is a lot for a nineteen year-old to handle on her own. I blamed her for a long time but like, that was a me thing and I’m a teensy bit more grown-up now. I will cover mental illness and forgiveness in a later post, stay tuned).

ANYWAY. I almost committed suicide and now I had to figure my life out and part of that was meeting with a psychiatrist and a psychologist. No part of me wanted to talk about that awful night anymore, but my parents insisted (thanks guys!!). I was really lucky that my psychologist, Sam, got me. She understood who I was and what I was going through. She let me talk about anything I wanted to and validated all the things I was feeling and validated my diagnosis. I was terrified that I would talk to these doctors and they would tell me I was just a wimp, that everybody suffers what I do and I just sucked at it (does that sound like a symptom of anxiety because I feel like it does). But Sam confirmed that I was sick but that I was going to get better with her help and I would eventually see myself in a much better light. I stopped dreading going to those sessions and instead began rather enjoying them. I loved Sam and Mom always took me to Starbucks afterwards for a treat (I’m basically a child being bribed to get a shot). I was lucky. My Mom and I always talked about my sessions after them and Dad asked if there was anything he could help me with. Jacob (my super cute boyfriend) was so, so supportive and my little sister was happy not to talk about anything that made me sad if I didn’t want to. I couldn’t ask for a better support system.

I am very lucky to have had that summer. One of rest, healing, and change. I got on meds that brought me back to who I want to be (I was, again, very lucky! The right drug the first time! I had to have it upped but I got to equilibrium with my meds way faster than most people). And I felt ready to keep going.

Those were my next steps. I got back to feeling like a person with lots, and lots of help. So much help. So, so, so much help guys. I can’t stress that enough. HELP. I didn’t want help but I got it anyway and oh my gosh that probably literally saved my life. But that wasn’t the end. I had an amazing summer and I am so lucky I got as much help as I did but my problem wasn’t solved. I have anxiety and depression and being happy doesn’t change that. I have so much further to go and sometimes I still feel crazy. Sometimes I still scream and cry and stay in bed because it feels like nothing matters and no one cares. I am recovering. I am learning to live with my mental illnesses because they don’t just go away. I am recovering but it’s baby steps team.

I think my point here guys is that people matter so much and caring about people matters. Seek help when you need it. Offer help when you are able and never, ever be ashamed to accept help from people who love you. And people love you, I promise they do. You have gotten this far and I can’t tell you how hard recovery is but it is worth it. Do it for you, for me, and for all the people who love you.

(Thank you for the amazing response! All I have is my experience to go off of but I’m so, so glad we’re talking about mental health. Thank you for sharing your stories with me. Together, we are stronger than anything we face alone.)