And Now You Know.

I've never been much for self-disclosure. I like my privacy, and I respect the privacy of others. (Okay, I get nosey sometimes, but who doesn't?) You generally can't figure out my day to day happenings by looking at my Facebook. I don't "check in" anywhere. I don't tell you what I'm up to. Sometimes I might post a picture or let you in on a small, sometimes significant detail. I don't use Twitter, and I don't Instagram. I'm aware of the benefits of social networking, and I'm aware of the risks of social networking. I don't limit my general candidness based on either those benefits or risks. I'm just someone who would rather sit and have coffee with you one on one. If you get me alone, I'm an open book. I'll tell you close to anything. You will probably want me to shut up. 

So this is different for me. 

I've recently been really inspired by the bravery of others. People that I know and people that I don't know who use their platform to be brutally honest with their readers. I've been personally affected by one post in particular written by a friend who I went to grad school with. She laid it all on the line, and she made a difference. In the hopes that someone who reads this might find solace in the words that follow, here goes everything:

Tomorrow morning I'm going to therapy. After ruling out a hormone problem, we're (me and the doctor) pretty sure that this Thing I'm dealing with is depression. I don't just feel sad sometimes. I feel tired. I feel overwhelmed. I feel anxious. I cry. A lot. I can't focus. I don't want to be around people. I get angry. I don't feel motivated. I've lost interest in many things that I used to be passionate about. The list goes on. 

This is something I have dealt with most of my life. It comes and goes, and I generally get through it on my own. These feelings are not new to me. No, they are all too familiar. In the past I had my own bedroom to hide in. I had my own meals to prepare. Really, I had no one but myself to worry about. Yes, it may have affected others around me when I would isolate myself, but no one was ever greatly affected by my own emotions. Things are different now. I don't have my own room. I can't just pick up and leave when I want to get away. I can't hide anymore. And that's a good thing. But it's a hard thing. I am grateful for my husband who has been so supportive and put up with so much more than he deserves. It is time to get well. 

I was referred to a therapist, and after finding out that our health insurance actually covers this, I gratefully made an appointment. So I go tomorrow. 

Why is this so hard to talk about? Why is there so much shame and stigma attached to this issue? Why did I desperately wish there was a hormonal imbalance that I could blame for my rather unsavory disposition? As a society, we stigmatize mental health issues so quickly and further make each person struggling with one feel even more marginalized. This is such a lonely place to be. And largely because I'm afraid to talk to people about it. Largely because it's so misunderstood.

I've barely talked to anyone about this. And I'm still not really sure that I'm ready to. What I am sure of, is that I'm ready to get better. I'm ready to feel like myself again. 

I know am a blessed person. God has blessed me with so much to be grateful for, and I am grateful. He reminds me daily that He is bigger than I am. I am His child, and He takes care of me. I am grateful today for people in the mental health profession who are trained in compassion and understanding the issue of depression. I am grateful that He has provided this resource for me to take advantage of. I am grateful for friends and fellow bloggers who have taken courageous steps in talking about their own struggle with depression. 

J and I on our recent trip to Monterey, celebrating our first year anniversary. GOOD day!