Surviving Depression

Spring is here.  Things are happy :)  After a harsh winter, I welcome the sunshine, the singing birds, the trees blooming, and kids playing outside.  Sunshine has such an impact on our health and our mood.  After absorbing some much needed Vitamin D this weekend, I am reflecting on how far I've come from when things weren't so happy and sunshiny.

I lived through depression for many years.  I say that "I lived through it", because I am much better now.  I don't know if I've healed completely from it because I don't know what that would feel like.  All that matters is:  I'm healthier and I'm happier.  Looking back, I don't know how I did it, how I had the strength to push through it.  "Depression hurts."  That was a phrase that a commercial used to describe it.   I said it many times myself.  It's not a physical hurt like a broken bone or a migraine.  But then again, it's a very physical feeling like that.  Depression hurts so bad, that you don't feel like doing anything.  You are robbed from any motivation or initiative that you would normally have to carry on with your life's activities.  I, for one, felt very alone with this debilitating illness.  Since it wasn't something that others could "see", like a broken leg, an open wound, or even a crippling disease, then it was hard for others to understand that I was suffering an excruciating pain inside.

Talking about it was difficult.  I was afraid to tell anyone that I didn't want to live anymore, because I was afraid that they would think I was just faking it to get attention.  I was afraid that they would talk about me behind my back and laugh at me, that I would become a mockery.  My thoughts would argue back and forth about if I should tell someone or not.  "People will judge you," my brain would say; but I needed to tell someone.  "No one understands.  No one wants to understand," it would say to me, but I needed help.  "You'll get help, alright.  They will admit you to a hospital, medicate you to where you don't care about anything, and leave you there."  But that wasn't the kind of help I needed, or wanted.  I longed for a hug.  That was the best medicine to fix me.  That was the attention that I needed to make me feel better.  It didn't cost a thing, and it wouldn't hurt anyone.  I needed to feel loved.  Yet, I couldn't ask.  I was paralyzed by this evil disease.   

There were a few times when I did get the courage to tell people that I was hurting.  "Get over it.", "All you have to do is just snap out of this funk that you're in.", "Everything's okay, you just have to quit dwelling on things."  I heard things like this all the time.  It was easy advise, I suppose, for someone who wasn't stuck at the bottom of the agonizing pit of low self worth.  Come on Somebody!!  Throw me a bone or something!  

After failed attempts at seeking comfort in people, I went to the doctor.  Not a psychologist or psychiatrist, I went to my general practitioner.  She asked me 10 questions about things that have happened in my life and when.  Come to find out, I had experienced 8 or 9 of the 10 most stressful things leading to depression; and I experienced them all within the previous year.  Okay.  So, now I have a beginning point to all of this craziness.  That's good to know.  I was prescribed some medicine for depression or anxiety, I don't know which.  All I know is that one of the side effects was that I should call my doctor if I started feeling signs of suicide.  Well, that's comforting to know the medicine to fix me might possibly push me over the edge!  What have I got to lose, right?

I continued to live with depression for many years after that.  The meds helped numb my feelings about everything.  A friend asked me about how the medicine made me feel, and I described it as, "If my house were to catch on fire, I would probably stand outside watching it and say, 'Welp, that sucks.  I guess I need to move.' and I would start looking for another place to live."  I still had feelings, like I cared about people and things.  I just didn't have any emotions.  The medicine numbed me to the point that I didn't cry, or get sad, or get mad.  But most of all, I didn't get happy either.  So, no more medicine for me.  How about some Crown & Coke?

I kept running into this scripture time and time again how God won't give you more than you can bear.  To be honest, I don't even know if that is a complete scripture, or just a paraphrase of a more detailed scripture in the Bible.  I don't even know if it was a scripture at all.  All I knew was, I kept hearing it over and over again.  It got to the point that I actually wished I wasn't so strong to bear so much.  I wanted to be weak, so the depression wouldn't last so long or hurt so bad.  At that point, I didn't know how much more I could bear.  Was I destined to be alone my whole life?  Could I ever be happy?  Was I expecting too much?  Life sucked.

One day, I decided to go with this whole "I'm strong, otherwise, I wouldn't be able to bear so much" thought.  Expecting people to feel sorry for me and help me out of this miserable state of mind wasn't working.  Anti-depressants, anti-anxiety medicine, and doctor visits weren't healing the hurt.  Alcohol and comfort food wasn't doing anything but making me fat and more depressed.  I was determined to either be happy or at least pretend to be so I can live a functioning life like everyone else.  If negative thoughts breed a negative reaction, then I was going to challenge myself to find something good in everything.  And that is what I did.

After years of being miserable about myself, I started by praying good prayers for everyone who hurt me, was mean to me, and who seemed to be struggling for happiness themselves.  Let me say, that was absolutely the hardest thing I have ever done.  If you don't know what I'm talking about, try praying for positive things to happen to your worst enemy without gritting your teeth!  It's not easy, but I figured they were mean and nasty for one reason or another; and, if they were hurting inside like I was, then they needed something good to happen to them just like I needed it.  Every time something disappointing or bad happened, I tried to think of a reasonable reason why or a good thing that came out of it.  I gave people the benefit of the doubt for their actions.  

After continuing to change my way of thinking, my demeanor slowly started to improve.  I started to feel better about myself.  Things didn't bother me as much anymore.  It was a gradual process, but it was working.  It didn't change overnight, and there were many fall-backs.  I was persistent though.  If I fell, I got back up, and kept trying to be good at this new thinking process.  Soon, I even started loosing weight!  How awesome was that?  That just made me feel even better about myself and motivated me to do more.  I started walking around the block, getting that much needed sunshine and exercise that made me feel alive!  It was an exhilarating experience that had a positive domino effect on everything I felt and did.  The "me" that had been buried inside layers of suppressed feelings and an overweight body, was starting to emerge.  I can't explain the feeling of freedom from depression and the huge weight that I no longer have to carry along with me.  I can tell you that it feels awesome to smile, to laugh, to love... to be happy :)

I love you peeps!

The Bus Ride

The first time I remember hurting over someone else's words happened on the school bus in first grade.  It  was really a van that took several first through third graders from a daycare to school for those who had parents that went to work early.  I was sitting in the back of the van, when a boy sat next to me.  My heart smiled.  It was nice that someone "chose" to sit next to me.  

On the way to the school, we talked about riding bikes and other kid stuff.  I felt a little ashamed when he seemed surprised that I couldn't ride without training wheels, but I came up with a justifiable reason why I hadn't learned without them yet.  During an awkward silence in the conversation, he broke the ice with the most random, blatant question that could have only come from the unfiltered mouth of a child.  "Why is one of your legs fatter than the other?"  I must have had a look of sheer terror on my face!   He tried to retract some of the damage with "I mean, why does one of your thighs have more meat on it than the other one?"  

I know that this was just the first grade, and I know that the boy was not trying to be cruel and didn't realize what he said left such an impact on me, but I have remembered the conversation to this day.  Words really can be a double edged sword, whether you mean for them to or not.  What happened that day on the bus has haunted me my whole life.  Of course it doesn't seem like much to you reading this.  For me, it opened up a door in my innocent childhood to see myself as imperfect.  Through that door, also came the realization that what you say can change someone's way of thinking, their mood, their confidence, their life even.  

Happy Amethyst launch

Welcome to the launch of Happy Amethyst.   I have a great passion for life, after being imprisoned by depression and low self worth for many years.  My outlook has changed to where I look at the positives and the benefits of the doubt, avoiding negative influences as much as possible.   I believe that my attitude dictates my quality of life, so the better my attitude.. the better my life will be!  

I am creating my blog as a therapeutic journal for me to stay focused on the things that make me happy, and to remain aware of what I need to avoid that brings me down.   If you read anything that you feel would help you, I welcome you to follow me.  I must warn you though, I am not an English major.  I will guarantee that I will make errors in spelling, grammar,  and sentence structure.  My focus is on sharing positives with myself and those who care to follow, not on professional writing.

Join me in living happy, loving whole heartedly & finding peace in everything.   Feel free to share my blog with people who seek the same :)

Stephanie