“I feel… better. I feel like… myself.” I wasn’t entirely sure what “better” or “myself” meant. All I knew was that something had shifted in a positive way.
“Yeah,” my friend replied knowingly. “The spark is back in your eyes. I was concerned about you for a while there.”
That took me aback. “Concerned”? Why would they be concerned? Reflecting on the past weeks and months, I tried to identify any specific event or behavior that might have raised alarm. Had I really changed so much that it was noticeable?
To be fair, I had endured a lot recently. Coming out as queer and separating from my partner was quite a significant life change. Yet, coming out is often viewed as a relief, right? It should feel liberating, allowing me to live authentically. I had even found a charming little home and met someone who truly understood me. Shouldn’t all of that be enough to uplift my spirits? Shouldn’t I be happy?
However, I had to admit that I was sleeping more than usual, often taking afternoon naps or longing to escape into sleep. But I always woke up. I wasn’t spending my days in bed crying. I was being productive, albeit slowly. My output had noticeably decreased, and I often complained about how I felt busy yet accomplished less than before.
Anxiety had also been a constant companion, manifesting as tightness in my chest. But isn’t anxiety common during a divorce? Even in amicable separations, which mine was, the process is still incredibly difficult. I worried about my children, as any devoted parent would during a split. I was also anxious about my own future. Could I manage this newfound independence? Did I have the strength?
That persistent tightness in my chest was there every day, for months. It sometimes felt like a heavy, damp blanket over me. Even minor frustrations would lead to tears. My eating habits were chaotic; I was opting for carbs over my usual healthy choices. My short-term memory was a mess, and I lacked the motivation to socialize. Taking my kids to the skate park felt disconnected, as I watched them enjoy themselves while I waited for a flicker of joy to ignite within me like a switch.
During that time, I believed my malaise stemmed from life stress and thought it would dissipate once things settled down. I never considered that I might be genuinely depressed. I had experienced depression before coming out, but the idea of being depressed afterward felt impossible.
Then, during that conversation with my friend, it struck me. I had indeed been going through a depressive episode. I wasn’t suicidal or crying constantly, but I was undeniably depressed. The clarity came when I compared how I felt that day—after my friend noted the spark in my eyes—with the previous months of emotional fog.
The feeling of being “myself” wasn’t exceptional. I wasn’t euphoric; I was simply… me. The contrast between my apathetic state and this newfound clarity was so stark that I briefly wondered if I had slipped into mania. I had been so accustomed to feeling disconnected that ordinary happiness felt almost overwhelming. But in reality, I had simply begun to feel better.
This improvement didn’t happen overnight. Several key factors aligned, both intentionally and coincidentally. My divorce was wrapping up, and after suffering an allergic reaction related to gluten, I eliminated wheat from my diet and focused on incorporating more fruits and vegetables. I consulted my doctor about my fatigue and “fuzzy thinking,” who recommended regular exercise, taking vitamins, and establishing a consistent sleep schedule. She also ordered blood tests to rule out any physical issues.
Between my initial appointment and the follow-up weeks later, the changes I had made already yielded significant results. That’s when I spoke with my friend about feeling like myself again. The lab results showed nothing concerning, but I’m convinced something was amiss with my brain chemistry during those difficult months. I was fortunate that the lifestyle shifts I made were enough to help me feel better.
To anyone who finds themselves in a similar situation, feeling like they’re waiting for a switch to flip—please know you don’t need to be bedridden or experiencing suicidal thoughts to seek help. I approached my doctor thinking something physical was wrong. I only recognized the depression after I had emerged from it and compared contentment to apathy. If the dietary and lifestyle changes hadn’t worked, antidepressants would have been my next step, and that would have been perfectly fine too.
The takeaway is that you don’t have to wait until you hit rock bottom to ask for help. Don’t hold off for that switch to be flipped. Reach out to a friend, consult your doctor, and seek support. You deserve to feel like yourself. For further resources on pregnancy and home insemination, visit CDC and check out this informative blog post for additional insights on navigating your journey. If you’re looking for ways to boost your fertility, consider exploring this guide as well.
In summary, recognizing and addressing mental health struggles is crucial, even when symptoms are subtle. Don’t hesitate to seek help, as everyone deserves to feel their best.