I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know I’m not alone in my struggles. I’ve been grappling with these feelings for quite some time, and the moment finally arrived when I realized I needed to take action.
Anxiety has been a part of my life since I was a child. Difficult situations and stressful moments burdened me with heavy emotions and responsibilities. Each of us has a story that leaves us feeling helpless, but that narrative isn’t the main focus here. Regardless of how relevant those stories are, the past has already shaped us, and life continues to move forward.
As a young teenager navigating through life’s challenges, I found myself constantly looking over my shoulder, building a strong wall to protect myself from past pain. I would carefully plan my moves and analyze those around me, avoiding any situations that might lead to hurt. Little did I know that anxiety was quietly taking root within me from a young age, growing alongside me.
Anxiety feeds my insecurities and fears. It gives me clammy hands and a racing heart. Sleepless nights filled with racing thoughts rob my peace, while social gatherings become daunting hurdles. It diminishes my confidence and complicates my roles as a partner and parent.
Depression first made its unwelcome appearance in my early adulthood. As I navigated my 20s, I felt like the world was within my reach if only I could learn to manage my anxiety better. Yet, whenever my nerves spiraled out of control, depression loomed overhead like an ominous fog, threatening to engulf me entirely. This darkness often leaves me searching for light, but even when I find it, the clouds seem to return without warning. This feeling is both foreign and achingly familiar, reminding me of darker days from my youth – days I desperately want to escape.
But that feeling always catches up.
Depression amplifies my anxiety, wrapping me in overwhelming emotions. It swallows me in sadness and isolation, pulling me away from those I love, both physically and emotionally. It creates a dark pit where I hide, feeling stagnant and in pain, only to be lifted back to the light, only to plunge back down again. This endless cycle is exhausting.
I’m tired of running away. I’m weary of missing out on life’s moments because I simply can’t face them.
I find myself trying to suppress these feelings, while everyone else sees my cheerful facade – a mask I’ve learned to wear expertly. I feel like I’m on a hamster wheel, desperately trying to keep my mind occupied to fend off the relentless thoughts that attack me. To the outside world, I appear accomplished and capable, but the pressure feels suffocating.
I see myself stuck in the rat race, berating myself for any perceived failures. I watch opportunities slip by because I feel paralyzed and incapable of taking on more. I keep telling myself that once this is over, or once that changes, everything will be fine. But that moment never seems to arrive.
And I’m not alone.
I finally reached my breaking point, sitting on the edge of my bed, overwhelmed with feelings of inadequacy as a mother and partner. I picked up the phone and called my doctor.
Walking into her office, I was sweating and on the verge of tears. I sat down, heart racing and blood pressure soaring as if I’d just consumed five shots of espresso. As I wept, I asked for help, and she compassionately guided me through tough questions.
She confirmed that I was a therapist. “Yes, just an intern,” I replied.
“Wow,” she responded. “You should be so proud of yourself for taking this step,” as she wrote my prescription.
In that moment, I felt a mix of vulnerability and pride. It took me a long time to get here, but I realized I’m not exempt from needing help. It wasn’t about embarrassment or denial; I simply needed that moment of clarity to understand I couldn’t manage this alone.
The emotional breakdown I experienced was not caused by anyone else — neither my family nor my friends. It was a culmination of my depression and anxiety working together to confront me. I’m grateful for that low point because it pushed me to take an enormous step forward.
And I’m not alone.
I will never be alone in this battle. I stand alongside a courageous community that fights for their lives daily through therapy and medication. Together, we strive to combat the stigma surrounding mental health.
We are not alone.
Depression and anxiety do not discriminate. People of all genders, races, sizes, and cultures face these debilitating disorders. And that’s okay, because we have each other to help eliminate shame and embarrassment from our minds and society.
I am not ashamed. We are not ashamed. And you don’t have to be ashamed.
Because you are not alone.
This article was originally published on July 27, 2016. For more insights on navigating these challenges, check out our other posts, including one on reaching out for help here. If you’re seeking information on infertility, you’ll find an excellent resource here. And for those exploring home insemination options, visit this link for valuable insights.
Summary:
This article explores the author’s personal journey with anxiety and depression, revealing the struggles of feeling isolated while coping with mental health challenges. It emphasizes the importance of seeking help and highlights the shared experiences of others battling similar issues. The narrative aims to foster a supportive community and reduce the stigma surrounding mental health.