Admittance

Tonight, I googled "tricks to beat depression" for the very first time. This marks the first time that I've officially admitted to myself that I struggle with that. I've thrown the word around a bit here and there and tossed the idea around in my head that it might be real for me, but I'd always thought that maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just a rough day. Maybe I was tired.

Depression and anxiety both run in my family, so I always knew that it could hit me. I thought for years that I had avoided it. Growing up, I've watched my mom suffer from both. So much so that it's been an unspoken goal in my life to never show any sign of weakness, as mentioned in an older post. I knew how much my mom had on her plate, especially as we all got older and some of my siblings fell away from the church and enjoyed various levels of riotous living, and as I watched my parents' marriage struggle. I focused so much on telling myself that I was the cheerful, upbeat, optimistic one that it never occurred to me that I might also be struggling.

It's been about a year since I admitted to myself that I suffer from anxiety. I would have panicked thoughts that were so intense that I more than once mistook them as warnings from the Spirit. I don't even remember what triggered the recognition, but once I understood that it was anxiety, everything was different. Everything made more sense. I could talk myself down from the panic. I was more in control of my mind. I can now tell myself, "This is just the anxiety talking. Take some deep breaths and calm down, and everything will look better".

I've used all my mind power over the years to convince myself that anxiety and depression are not weaknesses, but there's a tiny part in the back of my brain that instinctively whispers that they are. It's a knee-jerk reaction, a lie that I tell myself because I have worked so hard to be so strong. I hate admitting I need help. I feel like I've talked about this a lot, but it's very true. I expect perfection from myself. I have to tell myself everything is fine so I can project that image onto my face. In addition to needing to be the strong pillar in my family, I also feel that coming out and admitting I have these struggles would feel like I'm jumping on a bandwagon. With so many people in my family struggling right now, it would feel less sincere to say I know how they feel, especially when I really don't. I suffer from far lower levels of depression and anxiety than they do. It's like telling someone with a broken arm that your finger hurts. Each person's pain is very real, but yours seems so superficial next to theirs, and they're clearly too busy with their broken arm to nurse your finger.

So clearly the most logical step is to get it all out on a blog that my family knows nothing about. In all seriousness, though, writing is very cathartic. The other step is acceptance. Accepting myself with all my struggles is the biggest thing. And guess what? I even got a few good tips from my Google search. So I'll have to try those out and see how that goes.