It wasn’t very long after Tony was diagnosed that I knew something was not right with me. I had always been the kind of person to wake up with a plan for the day, prepare my mental checklist and get it done; check, check, check. I would pack our bags for the hospital, fill up the pill pockets with the 7+ medications needed for the day, make sure we have the specific snacks on hand, check all the sanitary items; masks, cotton balls, sanitizer, bandaids, and double-check the appointment list for the day. All of a sudden, I was at a blank. I had a completely empty stare at the ‘medical table’ in my kitchen with no sense of what to do first. I always knew where to start! I always had a plan! What had changed?  

I realized something changed when I went in to talk to my primary doctor. I told her my situation and how I still have the mental checklist but no desire to do it and an overwhelming sense of not knowing where to start. I remember the tan room, her black hair, and the sun shining through the window behind me as she pointed out that these are some of the symptoms of depression and anxiety. I broke down crying. It all made sense at that moment and hit me like a train. Of course, it’s depression and anxiety! What was going through my head was a different ‘me,’ and I didn’t recognize her. 

We chatted more, and she recommended medication. I was stunned. I was the person who always said, “it can be healed with a healthy mindset.” But there I was, completely broken and unable to help how I felt with my ‘healthy mindset’. I realized that maybe depression and anxiety ARE real, and maybe people really DO need more than just ‘healthy minds’ to make their lives right. But most of all, I was completely and utterly ignorant in thinking that a person struggling with this can just heal themselves BY themselves. It was then that I had had to eat a big piece of humble pie with a side of reality check.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about this realization. I was still trying to process it all; I am no longer who I was, this new person needed help, and that anti-depressants may be able to help. I had to talk to someone about this, so I reached out to my dad. What he said to me, I will never forget. I told him I don’t like the idea of taking meds but that I felt maybe it was what I needed. He said, “Victoria, sometimes even the strongest boulders are eroded by the waves.” That struck me deep. I thank God for him and his wisdom every day. Thank you, dad. 

Rest assured that we also talked about not making them long-term and transition out when I felt ready. However long that would take, I agreed. It turns out that I would end up on the journey of monitoring my mental health, counseling, and self-care for the rest of my life. What I experienced was a tragedy that will haunt me for as long as I live. 

During this first encounter with depression and anxiety, I was on medication for three years; the year Tony was in chemotherapy and then two years afterward as I worked to rebuild my life and identity. I was then faced with the reality that Tony’s death created a cape of sorrow when I experience any type of loss. Thus, when my new husband was stationed in Qatar for a year, it happened all over again. 

It took about three weeks after Alex left when I started to cry randomly through the day and did not know why. I would not shower, get dressed, or walk the dogs. Again, I didn’t understand why I was doing these things. I thought I had developed myself again! I had been off medication for years; why was this happening? This time, I incorporated counseling as a part of my mental health care. And this time, it was the counselor who pointed it out; “you are experiencing loss again, and all of those old feelings are being resurfaced.” Great, now I have some form of low-key PTSD. Ugh. But again, it took a professional to point out to me what was happening. And again, after that conversation, it all made sense. And most importantly, now I know. 

Through these experiences, now I know that my depression looks like: 

• Randomly crying during the day and night. No rhyme or reason, just… all of a sudden, the waterworks turn on and won’t turn off. 
• Triggers. Certain smells, songs, and places trigger waves of emotion, so now I know to prepare myself for it. 
• Anger. An overwhelming sense of hostility to the world, the people in it, and being so angry that folks are actually happy. 
• Suicide. I will get to this in a later post, but there were times when I was driving, and I would look at a thick, cement light post and think to myself, “if I hit that pole at the right speed, on my side of the car, I would succeed.”

Now I know that my anxiety looks like: 

• Feeling overwhelmed. The whirlwind of things to do spin around in my head and I cannot pin down a single one to get started. 
• Sleepless nights. Waking up to a shock and a sense of fear and dread for things to come or replaying events over and over. I would think, “if only” or “what if”, in my mind with no way to quiet those thoughts. 
• Fearing the unknown. I wouldn’t leave the house because I knew the cashier would talk to me and I wouldn’t know how to respond. Sometimes I would dwell on things that really may not happen (like dying in a plane crash) but still dwell on it.

I guess where I am going with all this is that – this is my journey. It continues to be my journey. If anyone reading this has experience with the struggles of depression and/ or anxiety, your journey may look different. If you are someone who knows something has changed inside of you, and you are not the person you were before, maybe it’s time to talk to a professional about it. But most importantly, do something about it. The journey is not pretty. It’s not for the faint of heart, and it is ABSOLUTELY uncomfortable and painful. It may be a one-time gig, and it may be a lifetime of recovery. Either way, if something is not right, fix it. You are worth it. And you are NOT alone.