I had no intention of writing or posting about this topic, but seeing the outpour of encouraging words on social media following the very tragic and public suicides of Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain (who is a huge idol of mine), it prompted me to speak up about my own depression.
I have battled with it on and off my whole life, have at times been medicated for it (seven horrible years on Zoloft to be exact), have seen many therapists, and have come to accept that it is something that I and many people just have to face at different phases of our lives. The last week or two have been especially rough for me, and I am taking this moment of awareness as an opportunity to share my story in the hopes that it helps someone else.
The reason I feel that it’s important to speak up about is that social media tricks us into thinking everyone is happy and productive and perfect except for us. It starts to feel very isolating, and is a hard mindset to shake when you are already feeling down. I have fallen into the trap many times of checking social media for “just a distraction” when I’m already deep in the hole of depression, and after scrolling mindlessly and seeing everyone else “living their best life”, going into another downward spiral and not being able to find my way out.
*THE NEXT PART IS A VERY LONG & PERSONAL STORY, KEEP SCROLLING IF YOU DON’T FEEL LIKE READING*
Although I now feel fairly equipped to deal with my depression, or even bouts of sadness, it certainly has not always been that way. Growing up – before I started taking Zoloft at the age of 12 – I always felt left out and isolated, and remember crying all the time for what felt like no reason.
Middle school and high school weren’t any easier – I was still left out, picked on/bullied, and really didn’t fit in with anyone. By the end of high school, I had long stopped seeing a therapist and had a laser focus on getting my diploma, going to college and starting off fresh.
Moving away from home to a new city as a freshman in college was life changing – I felt like I was experiencing happiness for the first time! I was making tons of new friends, had tons of fun experiences, was in a completely new and exciting environment, and was finally feeling the weight of depression lift a little.
The summer after freshman year, I felt more than ready to stop taking Zoloft – not only because I didn’t feel like I needed it anymore, but I was noticing more and more how numb I felt. It was honestly really scary! I ended up weaning myself off the drug that summer, which was one of the hardest but most worthwhile things I have ever had to put myself through.
During the rest of college, I started to develop a strong stance against pharmaceutical drugs (especially for depression), based on my own experience, and started to explore more holistic ways of addressing my problem. I was studying psychology, which was a great medium for me to discover ways to heal on my own and learn more about myself in general.
I took up meditation while I was taking a psych course about it, and that sparked an entire spiritual “revolution” in myself. I meditated every day; started reading about Buddhism; joined a club on campus of other open-minded, spiritual people (ok, they were hippies lol); and generally started to really explore the notion of a power outside of me that was not attached to any religion.
By the time I finished college and moved to LA for grad school, I was a full fledged hippie! I was super into yoga by that point, and spent most of my free time practicing yoga, going to yoga events and festivals, or hanging out with my friends I met through yoga.
I was so excited to be in a place where everyone was like me! Everyone was spiritual! Everyone was open minded! Except that a lot of it was fake bullshit. Add to that the fact that I was living with my ex from college – a relationship that should have stayed in college – and you probably don’t need me to tell you the depression reared it’s ugly head again. For a LONG time.
At that point, the obvious answer was that I needed to end the relationship and move out, but with no car, no job, no money for an apartment on my own in LA, and the weight of ending my first relationship, I ended up getting paralyzed by fear and staying in my shitty situation for way too long.
It wasn’t until a disastrous (but now pretty hilarious) trip to Greece that I finally decided to cut the cord. In one breath, I told him that when we got back to the states, I wasn’t resigning our lease, I was taking a year off school, and was moving to San Diego. Essentially, I was going to “find myself”.
Unfortunately, it was another two months of living with him (yes we were broken up and yes it was hella awkward) before I could move. During this time, I started journaling every day to get me through it – which is something I still do and is my most essential self-care tool – and kept reminding myself that it was almost over.
The next two years were some of the happiest and most magical times of my life. I was free of all my attachments – I literally started my life from scratch in San Diego – living by the beach, traveling all over California in my new (used) car, and manifesting shit left and right. Trip to Costa Rica? Done. Teaching yoga on paddleboards? Did that. Go to sleep to the sound of waves? Fuck yes I did! And it was all made possible by ME! Taking the leap and kicking ass and reaping the rewards.
Buuut alas the story isn’t over. After those two years, I finished grad school (finally), finished my internship with no job offer or plans to stay in San Diego, and ultimately knew my time there was coming to an end. The last few months in San Diego were very bittersweet: it is a breathtakingly beautiful place, I had an amazing apartment right by the beach and friends that I still adore and talk to all the time, but I really felt like I had outgrown it and wanted to move back to DC.
I certainly experienced some dark times in the last six months of living in San Diego. Both because I was recovering from and processing my grad school experience and because I felt the horrible unsettling feeling you get when you don’t feel like you are in the right place anymore. Not to mention the fact that it was the beginning of the Trump dynasty!
Luckily, I knew I was making a huge change in my life soon, and forced myself to appreciate my last few months in San Diego. I made a conscious decision to be FULLY present and enjoy the rest of my time there, and I truly feel like I left (almost) no stone unturned. Instead of flying home, I made the awesome decision to take a two week solo roadtrip back to San Diego – not just for the fun of it, but also to give myself time to process the huge transition I was about to go through.
When I got back to DC, the depression hit almost immediately. Aside from fucking my trip up at the end and skipping a few stops out of fear of running out of money (NEVER do that btw, plan first and money later!), I was slapped in the face with the realization that I didn’t really have any friends to do fun stuff with or money to do anything anyway.
It was a very long and depressing summer (and birthday) that I couldn’t wait to get through. I had the worst FOMO of my life that summer, and was even MORE depressed that I was having such a bad time during my favorite season that I just wanted it to end.
The rest of the year wasn’t easy either – by the end of summer, I had been job searching for a few months and was already getting frustrated. Luckily, I decided that I would at least join a gym to keep me busy and feel like I was doing SOMETHING productive during the winter months.
By December, I was still job searching, still didn’t really have any friends, and was so depressed that I was acting out at EVERYONE. When I worked myself up so much that I got a horrible cold, I knew it was time to sit down and check myself.
Luckily, I had just ordered the book “You Are a Badass” on Amazon, and it came just in time for me to spend a week in bed reading it while I got over my cold. Instead of just breezing through the book, I decided to stop and journal through almost every chapter, forcing myself to take a HARD look at my life.
It was legit one of the most intense weeks of my life – I basically had a weeklong therapy session with myself! – but SO effective, helpful and necessary. Not only did I work through some SERIOUSLY deep rooted belief systems that I held, but I wrote down a comprehensive list of all the things I wanted to manifest in 2018.
I started this year off on SUCH a high note, and felt like things were finally falling into place! I started doing fun things and making friends, started a blog and a new relationship, and FINALLY went to Israel to visit my cousin. I was feeling really positive and optimistic and was so grateful that I was able to bring myself back from the low point I reached in December.
Fast forward to the last couple weeks, where it really hit me how long I have been here now and STILL don’t have a job and am STILL living at home. Obviously, that led to a downward spiral of negative thinking, and I found myself in a really dark place again and feeling very alone. I tried all the things that normally work for me when I am feeling down – journaling, meditating, exercising, yoga, being in nature – and none of it was making me feel better.
I eventually was able to talk to some friends and open up about what I was going through, which made me feel less alone, but was not a “cure”. This is one of the first times in my life where I have been this unhappy and stuck with my current life situation but have not known a way out. I am now rereading the “You Are a Badass” book, which is helping A LOT, but I know I am not out of the darkness yet.
*END OF PERSONAL STORY*
Over the years, I developed this belief that I didn’t need a therapist anymore. Between studying psychology and social work, having so many self-care tools, having a good support system and having a generally positive and optimistic outlook on life, I just decided it wasn’t for me.
Now that I have gone through the cycle of depression so many times, I can finally admit to myself that I need and WANT one. I still haven’t found or started seeing one yet, but I already feel a sense of relief in finally admitting that I need professional help and that I am not alone. Tons of people see therapists, and those that don’t probably should! We are ALL going through some shit, if this week has taught us anything, and closing ourselves off and not talking about it is THE most harmful thing we can do.
I personally keep my social media presence fairly fun and positive, but I think it is crucial to speak out about the life and the person behind the posts. Judging from my own experience of feeling worse after scrolling through social media, I don’t want to add to anyone’s pain by portraying my life as perfect when it’s not.
If you are going through something right now, know you are NOT alone. You can and SHOULD talk to someone you trust about it – friends, family or a therapist – and find ways to bring light into your darkness. Even if you are not going through a hard time, make sure to check in with your friends and family to see how they are REALLY doing. Not only will they appreciate it, but you might just save a life! 💕
