Here's a Thing (#1)

When your friends start asking if you have a blog and seem legitimately disappointed when you say no, you start to think, “I do have a lot on my mind, maybe it would be good for me to start writing.”  When they start requesting that you start a blog?  That’s when things start to feel a little weird.  See, the thing is, I have a lot going on up in my brain. It’s busy up there.  And it comes out in words when I’m with my friends…a LOT of words.  I‘m a thinker and a talker, no two ways about it.  I am so thankful for all of the people in my life (especially my husband), who have had to listen to my many (varied, but endless) diatribes, and more importantly, that they stay my friends.  I like to think that they have an appreciation for my process, and I love that they allow me to do what I have to do in order to mentally get from point A to point B.  Even if that’s long texts, emails that could be the beginning of novels, phone calls where I prattle on and I’m pretty sure you could put the phone down and walk away and I might not even notice (mom, dad, I’m looking at you), or one of the many other ways I manage to corner people with my words.

I remember reading a book when I was younger where there is a bit about a girl’s mother saying that she believes we only have a certain number of words that God gave us when we were born, and when we use those words up, it’s time for us to go.  I don’t remember anything else about the book, not even what the cover looked like, but I remember that part.  I remember that part because it always made me feel like I was in pretty deep shit.  Like, I sure hope God gave me a BUNCH of words, because I am running through these things like they’re going out of style.  It made me think about slowing down for a second, but at a certain point I had to just embrace that I’m a talker.  It’s how I connect with people, how I process my own emotions and the world around me, and how I make sense of the things that other people say and do.  I sure hope that girl’s mom was wrong.  (If she was right, it would be swell if there was a loaner system, because I have some quiet friends and I’m pretty sure you guys could loan me some words and we’d all be fine.)

Another book I remember reading as a kid was called Star Girl.  It was this great YA novel about non-conformity, and also about what giant assholes teenagers can be.  I remember wanting to be more like the main character in the book, wanting so, so badly to not care a whit what other people think of me, and just do whatever it was that made me happy.  But I also remember thinking that it was already so difficult for me to make friends and I was already a little bit of an outsider, and as a kid nothing is scarier or worse than being a weirdo.  I read this book several times and still couldn’t figure out what to do, so one day I was on the Internet, and I found something that said it would allow me to send an email to the author of the book.  I sent him a message about how the book made me feel, but that I was still a little conflicted.  He never wrote back, and I remember that really bothering me (don’t forget, this was late 90s/early 2000s, and I was a kid on the Internet.  I could have sent this message to the University of Texas Astronomy Department for all I know).  If Jerry Spinelli ever comes across this post – dude, hmu.  I’ve got questions.  My words, for as much as I throw them around, are still important to me. 

I’ve decided to take this step and share some of my words because I think it’s something I will enjoy.  A way to pick apart the parts of my life that are worth sharing, and what can get thrown away.  I often think about complaining and telling a story about some long, convoluted thing that happened at work, but I get halfway into the story and think, “is this really worth sharing?  Is there really value in putting this out into the world?”  When the answer is no, it makes it so much easier for me to move on and focus on the things that are really important.  Like my cat, and weightlifting, and cheese.  You know, the big stuff.  Keep on reading if you want to know what else that means (it's probably really, really, weird).

Mental Health

Hey! Did you guys know that May was National Mental Health Month?  I just found out earlier this week and I’m surprised I haven’t heard more people talking about it.  I have struggled with depression and anxiety for a long time, and I’m happy to see that it’s become less taboo to talk about than it was even a few years ago, but we still have a long way to go.

I’ve told people in the past that I feel like I deserve All The Academy Awards Forever, because I am such a good actress.  People in my life always seem to think I’m this great person, and I’m so happy – or if I’m not happy, that I’m just being sarcastic.  I rarely let that guard down because a) you don’t know how people will react if you express how you’re feeling, especially when it’s REALLY NOT GOOD, and b) it’s exhausting.  It’s like how when you come back from vacation 10 different people want to know everything you did and everywhere you went so you have to run through the same story over and over again and you’re just so tired of it by the end.  It’s like that.  Except way shittier because instead of talking about the crystal-blue waters of the Bahamas, you’re telling someone you want to kill yourself.  Guess how well that usually goes down?  So, I’m really good at hiding how I feel and telling people I’m fine or things will get better, even when I really, truly, don’t know if I believe that.

I’m reading this infographic on mentalhealthamerica.net – click here to check it out for yourself. http://www.mentalhealthamerica.net/conditions/infographic-life-depression

Did you know that nearly 7% of American adults had a major depressive episode in 2014?  The infographic says that’s enough people to fill every MLB stadium in the U.S. – four and a half times. (Side note: Safeco Field has just over 54,000 seats.  I’m trying to imagine fifty four thousand versions of depressed Sarah all sitting in the same area at the same time and wondering if something supernaturally bad would happen.  Side note over.)

How many friends do you have on your Facebook page?  100? 500?  Seven percent.  Chances are, that’s more than a few of your friends.  I’m one of them.  I’ve been on 5 different psychiatric medications in as many years, and I’m on two right now. I would say I am partially managed at this point, but when stress creeps into my life it makes things WAY more difficult for me.

This year, Mental Health America started a hashtag to bring awareness to Mental Health Awareness Month.  The hashtag is #mentalillnessfeelslike and I encourage everyone to go on Twitter or go to mentalhealthamerica.net/feelslike to see what people are saying.  Depression comes to us in so many different forms, but the one thing we all have in common is that when we are experiencing it, we a never living to our full potential.  I lived for many years without medication or even therapy, and before the naysayers chimed in – yes I exercised, yes I ate well, yes I tried to spend time with my friends and do the things that would normally make me feel happy.  There’s a difference between being in a funk and living with depression.  When I list the things I do now (work, school, music, volunteering, etc), I’m SHOCKED that I have such a long list.  A couple of years ago just getting out of bed felt like a major accomplishment.

Some of what I feel when I’m in a major depressive episode:

I feel absolutely alone.  I am ashamed to tell anybody that something is wrong and if I start to tell them, I start crying which just makes me feel embarrassed.  I feel disgusting and dirty and repulsive.  I can’t believe people even want to look at me, let alone talk to me or spend time with me.  Little things that I wouldn’t normally bother me send me into a spiral of feeling absolutely worthless.  I feel necessary to apologize for pretty much everything, up to and including simply existing.  I get distracted easily.  I have memory problems that go back for years and I can’t answer questions that the doctor might ask regarding how long things have been happening or when it started, because I feel like I’m living in a total fog.  I forget saying that I would do things, I miss deadlines, and I’m easily overwhelmed when I see my pile of work to be accomplished.  When I am having an interaction with a friend – especially at work – part of my brain starts telling me that the person is faking their happiness to see and talk with me.  That they are just waiting for me to walk away so they can roll their eyes or make fun of me.  When someone says I am likeable, or funny, or smart, I don’t know how to accept the compliment because I 1) don’t believe it, and 2) I’m pretty sure they are lying.  On the other hand, I can’t trust myself because I know my perception of the world is skewed.  A part of my brain knows that it’s not true.  People like me.  My friends like me.  But when you are constantly perceiving things one way and trying to convince yourself that what you’re perceiving isn’t true…can you imagine how exhausting that is?

I used to work at an animal clinic.  When I worked there, my depression was BAD, but I loved being around animals and some of my coworkers were good people, so I managed to get through most days without a meltdown.  But there was one coworker who relentlessly picked on me.  She was one of the least genuine, laziest people I have ever known.  I couldn’t do anything right in her eyes and I had a really difficult time working with her.  I found out during my last week that she told everyone I had (I think this is right) schizophrenia (it could have been DID, I don’t remember).  The only reason I can think of for her to spread that rumor is because people with schizophrenia are so stigmatized in the world we live in.  She thought that calling me schizophrenic was the best way for her to express to everyone that I was a crazy person and they should distance themselves from me.  She knew I was in therapy and getting medication for depression, and still chose to spread rumors about my mental health, knowing how it would affect me via the treatment by those around me.  It is, to date, one of the most childish things another “adult” has done to me.  When you know someone is struggling with their mental health, please, for the love of whatever you believe in, don’t be a dick.  It’s the last thing they need. #byefelicia

Do you know someone struggling with a mental illness? Do you struggle?  I encourage you to speak out.  Tell people what it feels like and make a signal with a few trusted friends so they know to just be there and not ask questions when you need them.  And if one of your friends comes to you and tells you that they’re feeling down, the best thing you can do is listen to them.  You can ask them what they need, but they might not know.  They might want you to help them find a counselor.  If they are truly in crisis, they might want you to take them to the hospital.  They might just want you to help them make a blanket fort and watch Netflix all night.  Depression is different for everyone, and so are the things that make people feel safe and secure.  The one steadfast rule is that if someone you know says they want to harm themselves, DO NOT LEAVE THEM ALONE.

If you or a friend are struggling with depression, check out warmline.org.  They are a peer-run network and super helpful, regardless of whether you are feeling like you’re in crisis or just having a shitty day.  Greater Puget Sound call 206-933-7001 or 877-500-9276.  They operate from 5-10 PM.  Other hotlines run 24 hours.  And, fun fact, you do NOT have to be suicidal to call a suicide hotline!  If you think you need to call, then you need to call.

Take care of yourselves, friends, and watch out for each other.