Selfish

After reading one of these blog posts, I had someone inform me that I was being selfish for putting so much effort and time into becoming healthy. Their reasons were that I was taking time away from my children and husband and shouldn't be putting time into myself, that as a mom I need to put my children's needs above my own, and finally that mental illness is greatly exaggerated. I smiled when this person was relating their reasons why, in their mind, I am being selfish. When they finished I thanked them for their input and told them my reasons for being so serious about getting healthy.

1. I'm not taking time away from the family as much as I was when I was really ill. I couldn't take care of the kids, my husband, or myself and I wanted to leave them on a more permanent basis. That was taking time away from my family and their needs. With me getting better my children have their fun, energetic mom back and my husband has his wife back. Because I'm feeling like me again I am able to spend more time with my dear family and grow closer to them. We are able to play different games and I am coming up with creative ideas of how to bond with my family, and others. Yes, becoming healthy takes time but not as much time as being ill.

2. I am a worth while person and I deserve to have time put into myself. I have a lot to offer those around me and I'm not going to shrink away from shining anymore. I am valuable. I am priceless. I am special. I have a right to put some time into myself.

3. I agree that as a mom I should be putting my children's needs above most of my wants, but there is a line there. If I am constantly addressing the needs of my wonderful children, and never acknowledging mine, I become an empty shell again. If I were to have a good day would depend on the behaviour of the children. Were they good? Were they happy? I would be thrown into a pit of despondency whenever they were to throw a temper tantrum. I do know they have needs and I meet those needs, but I cannot place them on a pedestal above me. It's like when you're on a plane and you are told to put the oxygen mask on yourself before your children. Is it because as parents we're more important than our children? No. It's because we will not be able to help them if we are unconscious ourselves. I can't help my family if I don't help me.

4. I believe that a lot of people have a set standard of mental illness. "It's something that can't ever go away. If you are mentally ill you need to be institutionalized. If you have a mental illness you're less of a person. I don't know how to interact with someone who says they have a mental illness. Etc..." In other words, there are stigmatizations with regards to illnesses. And yes, some may be true...to an extent, but overall you can't usually tell that someone is suffering with depression, anxiety, or other sicknesses unless they tell you. I've posted before about how mental illness is a real thing and needs to be treated like a real thing, but the people that have them are real people and need to be treated as such. They are not able to "just get over it," nor can they simply decide to "not have it [mental illnesses] anymore because it's not working for them," and they are not being lazy.

After speaking with this person, they still did not agree with me and you know what? That's okay. I know my worth and my strength from having a mental illness and I know that I do not need to dignify the stigmatization of having depression and anxiety. This person was floored that I am taking such a positive position on becoming well and insisted that because I'm doing so well I "obviously never had a mental illness in the first place." Ok. This person has their opinions and that's ok. At least now they understand my position a bit better.

I have depression but I am not depressed. It is not who I am. My illness does not define me.  

My Fight

 Ten years ago, when I was thirteen, I was officially diagnosed with depression and was put on anti-depressants but still didn't know anything about the illness. My family didn't believe in sicknesses of this sort and as I result I discontinued the medications before even a month was over. I felt stigmatized within my own familial unit and that led to being feeling left out in the outside world. Would I ever feel normal and stop wanting to hurt myself? I had no support from those that were supposed to really care about me and minimal support from others because they didn't know how to help. I had numerous people tell me to just get over it and move on.

Almost every day was a battle. I dragged myself no matter what I did and I couldn't shake the feeling of not being good enough. I didn't know at the time that depression is a real illness and needs to be treated just like a broken leg. How could I have a mental illness? I must just be lazy and unmotivated. I made myself push harder and harder and kept sinking into the black. It seemed I had no interests, pep, or love for life. My memory was shot and I would go days without sleep or speaking to anyone. My mind was a minefield of dangerous thoughts and that's where I spent most of my time. With the frightening ideas swarming my mind.

As I got older, my depression grew even more dense. I couldn't hold a job. I was sleeping for upwards of 18 hours a day, and when people did see me they were looking at merely the body of Yannie. I had no spirit. Finally, when I was eighteen years-old I met Michael and it seemed that for a while my depression had subsided. At least a little. I was going on dates with this amazing man and was able to talk to him for hours. We became married and I turned into a monster. I forced this dear man to conform to my ideas of how life had to be, even down to how he hung up his clothes. I then became pregnant with my gorgeous daughter and became an even worse monster. (Yay hormones!)

When Emily was born, I had postpartum depression before we left the hospital. Taking care of a new child, cleaning, and being a wife was too much for me. I would often make Michael do more than his fair share simply because I couldn't do much. I felt like I was a horrible person and Michael would have been better marrying someone else, although I didn't do anything about those feelings until May of 2012.

May of 2012. I had officially been diagnosed with depression for eight years. I knew I had depression and I told people that I was doing the best I could. (NOT!) I kept feeling worse and kept thinking that my daughter and husband would be better without me. I acted on these thoughts on the 20th of that month by attempting suicide by overdosing. I texted Michael's father and told him what I had done and both Michael and Carl found me and had an ambulance take me to the hospital. I didn't stay at the hospital. I came home and still didn't do anything for my depression. I think, at least a small part of me didn't want to get better. I liked the attention. Carl spent many hours the next couple weeks talking with me and at one point he told me that I was trying to do to my daughter what my father had done to me- leave them wondering what they did wrong, what they could have done better, blaming themselves for me leaving. That hit me. I swore that would be the very last suicide attempt I would ever have.

At the beginning of this year, I started slipping down that slope again and by April I agreed to be admitted to Provo Canyon Behavioral Hospital for a week. It was really hard for me to be away from my family so long, but it was good at the same time. I finally had become serious about getting healthy. I learned a lot while I was admitted and was able to start some medications that have been helping and I have been able to not abuse them. When it was time to be released I started feeling anxiety. I wanted, desperately, to go home but I was unsure of how I would handle myself. That is when it hit me that I needed to be serious about my recovery and had to take an active part in it. Nobody else can make me well and the medications are just tools to use for a good starting point.

When I came home it would have been easy for me to stop taking the medications and to let depression take over again, but I couldn't. I saw the love a lot of people have for me and decided to not give in. I did a Google search for depression groups that I could attend in Utah County, and I found several. I started attending these groups and found one that really hit home for me. Recovery International. This a group that studies the teachings of Dr. Abraham A. Low and teaches you how to apply his method to your life. Right away, I noticed a drastic difference in my behavior and attitude. I don't complain, I don't give in to my temper nearly as frequently, I'm able to shake off disturbances, even major ones, quickly, and many more. Michael, and others, have commented how great it is to have Yannie back. My interests are returning and I am feeling quite passionate about things again. (Including Recovery International. Seriously, you should check them out!)

Right now I am focusing on getting healthy and being a wife and mom, and you know what? I'm on a good path with that right now. I know that the maintenance of health is a life-long task and sometimes I'll want to quit putting the effort in, but I won't. I don't like having the symptoms of depression and the tears it places in my family. I will continue fighting for my health and will continue to explore myself. I am genuinely excited to be returning to school in the Spring of 2016. I am hoping to become a psychologist specializing in working with rape victims. It will be hard but I feel that with my experiences with not only rape, but with my own mental illness as well, that I will do a lot of good in this field. I am a capable lot and am able to do a lot of good in my life and help my family do well in theirs.

I have depression but I am not depressed. It is not who I am. My illness does not define me. 

Falling In Love

Dear Life, 

When I first met you I was a mess. Literally. I was screaming my lungs out and didn't look very cute. (Nothing like now!) I was unsure of myself and my surroundings and was terrified of what was to come, but you simply gave me your blessing and told me I had countless and endless opportunities laying in wait. I didn't believe you at the time.

Growing up you were still there whispering words of encouragement, words of living. When I was a little girl I started believing you more and was a strong independent toddler, but I still didn't love you. I didn't even like you. Let's be honest, I never even gave you a second thought. How unfair and ridiculous I was! You were the reason I woke up every morning and took that first breath and every one after. 

Becoming a teenager was difficult at best and seemingly impossible at worst. Again I was a mess, only not literally this time. I was in a dark and cruel place and continually tried to break up with you and end our relationship. You, being wiser than I am, never let me drop you. I resented you. I wanted you to leave me and never return. I hated your words of living and I wanted to silence you. I tried and tried to push you away, but you were persistent and stayed with me through thick and thin. I didn't understand you and why you were intent on torturing me. 

Only now do I know that you were not torturing me, you weren't giving up on me. You loved me.

It has taken me years to fully understand those implications, and I'm not sure that I fully appreciate them yet, but I am trying. I am working on my love for you and I am learning that I have loved you all along, even when I thought I didn't. You are just as important to me as my family and I am going to work on creating that bond with you. I know you have a lot to offer me, including the endless possibilities you suggested when we first met. I'm going to live and not let those unliving-living (you know the type) people convince me otherwise. I know you will be patient and not give up on me because you haven't yet, and I'm now going to do the same for you.

With Love, 

Yannie