Depression.
I sat at my computer for quite awhile with nothing but the title, “Depression.” glaring at me. It’s pretty telling to what depression is really like. It’s a whole blank page of intentions, but the inability to see them through.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to share this publicly or not, but I talked with Doug and decided that I needed to share it - to put it out there - because I’ve been hiding things, hiding myself for years and I want more than anything to step into who I know I can be.
The first time I think I ever was truly truly depressed was when I lost my dad suddenly. At the time I thought it was just grief and I would get back to the old me eventually -- but what I didn’t account for was that losing him changed me at a near cellular level. I’ve never been the same, but I don’t expect to be. I didn’t allow myself to feel the pain. I didn’t walk through the pain, i avoided it. The sting was far too great. I went back to Florida and somewhere in my mind, it felt as if he was just still in Michigan. Sure I went through days of utter devastation but I guarded myself to not feel too much. I don’t suggest it.
Fast forward years and years later. To what I believe was the tipping point of my mental health. One month prior to getting pregnant for Charlotte, I experienced a twin miscarriage. It was scary and awful and I was alone. Miraculously, (despite the doctors saying I would not have a successful pregnancy with Charlotte), I got pregnant with Charlotte and that stubborn little girl we all love stuck on against the odds. A time to be elated? Yes. But I was still silently dealing with my loss, and several months into the pregnancy I developed Psoriasis. I had to go in hiding. The pain was unbearable. Charlotte’s birth was very complicated and scary. Because of my Psoriasis all the doctors on my team agreed that the baby needed to come a few weeks early. So what was intended as a scheduled c-section turned into hell. My spinal block stopped working mid surgery and I began to feel the searing pain of the surgery happening. I will save details but know that it was both the Hand of God and the skill of my surgeon to thank for me being here. I’ve never officially been diagnosed, but I believe I experienced some PTSD from the event.
I think the final yet ongoing part of my depression was the moment I stopped busying myself with Liam’s therapy, school, extracurriculars etc and sat down and quieted myself and allowed myself to feel the facts: I have a disabled child. Of course you may be thinking that shouldn’t be news to me right? Liam was diagnosed over 5 years ago -- and although i’ve known he is autistic.. Part of me, I think, thought i could outsmart - out therapy - out busy autism. Liam has made amazing progress -- but I don’t know what the future looks like for him. Our child is disabled. Once I allowed myself to really feel and experience that -- darkness began to creep in. And I promise you that when you find that you are depressed about your child, once the depression hits, mom guilt is just as strong. I’ve had to allow myself to feel the feelings and know that it isn’t my child that triggered my depression -- it was the experience he is having to go through. It’s the experience I’ve had to go through too. I could write a book on the things that as an Autism family we have experienced. Something as simple as figuring out a babysitter is difficult. There would be a lot of joyful pages, but there will be even more struggle.
About 12 months ago my depression started to reach new levels. I didn’t know myself. I didn’t smile. I was closed off. I hurt people I love. I began to question my worth, my value, and what I contributed to the people in my life. When you are in the thick of the depression bubble, your vision is so clouded with self judgement/self hatred that you quickly now see a distorted version of reality. This will affect every part of you. Relationships. Self-awareness. Parenting. Marriage. Faith. Decisions. I ignored all the symptoms of depression and pressed forward.
One day, about six months ago, I was sitting at home and I started getting warm. My arms and legs started nervously twitching and my whole body began to move in slow motion. I got so warm and fuzzy I knew I was going to get sick. This was the first anxiety attack I ever experienced. I thought I was dying, to be honest, for a moment. The whole world came crashing in and I felt all the things. Unfortunately the Anxiety got worse and worse. It influenced what I did, what I said, who I was close with -- and who I wasn’t. I began moving in and out of the days and nights utterly broken. There were days where I wanted to die. It was not the kind of anxiety that financial or relationship issues bring. It was different. It was being afraid to speak, it was leaving the grocery store with a full cart of groceries because all of a sudden you cannot be there, it’s locking your bedroom door while the kids are banging on it and sitting in a freezing cold shower crying out to God. For me, anxiety is worrying about what I say and how it will be interpreted, it’s pushing away those who love me in an effort to not hurt them which hurts them anyways. My anxiety kept me at home. It kept me secluded. I told myself that at least if I was alone I couldn't be hurtful and I wouldn’t worry anyone. But that’s just part of the lies I told myself.
3 months ago I was pretty brave and I went to the doctors for help. It came to a point where the pain of staying the same was so much greater pain than any work I would need to participate in to get help. Many of you know how much I prefer the natural pathways to things. I am not quick to medicate. But medicine is there for a reason. I am thankful. My doctor skillfully listened to me and we have worked together to find a regimen that works for me.
I am now at a place where I have more good days then bad. A good day doesn’t always mean I feel great -- it means I’ve cared for myself in some way. Bad days happen -- but they don’t ruin me. I am not crawled up in a ball on the floor. It more looks like, a lack of self care . I began therapy 2 months ago as well.
Why am I writing all this? What is the point? The point is that my instagram perfect looking family wasn’t as strong as it appeared. I never meant to paint a lie -- because there were so many truths intertwined, but we are struggling. Doug and I are in marriage counseling, as we were on the verge of divorce. I am in individual counseling.
My selfie game was strong, and Instagram’s amazing filters helped to disguise the pain, shame, and fear. But the thing is, life is messy. Mental health is messy. Childhood and past traumas affect us.
I am no longer willing to cover up, hide, disguise, or surrender who I am deep inside to make it more palatable for others. I’m no longer willing to let my mental health stop me from authentic connections. I am no willing to buy into the diet culture that tells me I should not love myself until I fit into it’s definition of beauty. I am willing to accept goodness, joy, acceptance in my life. I am learning that for me, self-love is the most difficult journey I have ever been on.
Recently, I’ve been forcing myself to get out and do things that terrify me. To others it is not a big deal to go into the ocean where there are a bajillion fish with goggles on and look at them. To others packing up your kids for a beach day may not take the same effort it does for me. Going to a Yoga class. Talking about problems. Writing a post that exposes so much. These are all elements of bravery for me. They are exceedingly difficult.
But i’m not willing to spend any more time hiding. I won’t hide from the world and all it has to offer. I refuse to live my life in fear. I am so loved. I know that I have a lot to offer the world and those around me and I have to believe that by honoring myself and presenting the real unfiltered me, I will continue to grow into a woman I long to become.
I do not believe my story is just mine. I know there are others struggling too. Struggling to appear like the perfect family, mother, wife, or girlfriend. Someone out there also cares far too much for others and not nearly enough for themselves. Maybe depression and anxiety are dirty words that you can’t bring yourself to utter. Maybe you want to go to the doctor but you a stone cold frozen in fear.
I am not an expert. Hell no. I’m just learning about this stuff as I go. I’m determined to be authentic. That might upset some. It might cause some relationships to suffer or end. It might bring others closer to me. I have to be okay with that. I’m doing me for the first time in 37 years.
I want to say thank you to my amazing family and friends. The ones who listened to me wail. Who talked me down when I was being crazy. The ones who didn’t take offense when I cancelled plans for the billionth time. The ones who loved me and prayed for me despite my radio silence. To anyone who has helped me out with the kids. To my husband for trying to see things from my perspective even though every bit of him just wants to be a fixer. To anyone who didn’t know about any of this? Consider it nothing more than my wanting to protect you, to preserve your love. Which I now know -- isn’t necessary. <3
A dear friend asked me last weekend, “What's your outlook?”. I was totally thrown back by the question. My outlook? I immediately said I didn’t know, I don’t know what's going to happen. But he wasn’t truly asking for a specific answer --- he simply was curious if I saw positivity or negativity moving forward.
I choose positivity. I choose to move into light and love. What a great question.
Ashlee.
