I don't know if that is the proper phrase...it just so happens to be one of my favorites.
I really did get dumped on this week in various aspects of my life. And I did nothing about it.
I let myself be so completely passive. And that has been a lot of my problem since moving to New York. It is why I haven't moved up in many ways. I have certainly changed and grown and am in a better place. But I think about if I was more active I could be in a better place.
A saying in my family will follow:
If if and buts were gifts and nuts we'd all have a Merry Christmas.
Now I have no clue what that actually means, but I think it has something to do with not wondering about what if and having regrets. Blah blah blah.
I guess tonight is one of those nights where I am going to divulge more than I intended to.
I have battled depression/anxiety for the past three years.
And not many people have known. My family and a few close friends.
It started in the winter/spring of my junior year of college. I had piled on so much stuff and was really going hard at school. And I loved that. But I was getting overwhelmed with one thing after the other. I ended up having to back out on an opportunity that I didn't want to, but I knew I couldn't handle it. That was in March.
It wasn't until end of July/beginning of August that I actually did something about it. I didn't think it was depression. I am far too self-aware and logical to deal with that. I have a great life, how could I be depressed? Well there was a sobbing mess in my parent's living room that was certainly going through something. It all came to a head, because I was terrified of going to London. Terrified. And I couldn't share that with most people. They would have thought I was nuts. You get to study abroad! What an amazing experience! But I so badly didn't want to go. I had this conversation with my parents and we then set up an appointment with our family doctor and had a consultation and it was deemed best that I be put on an SSRI for anxiety. And it helped. Immensely. I don't know how I would have been able to cope with home sickness and life and stuff without it. London was the best three months of my life and I learned so much about life and theater and myself.
When I got back from London I went off the medication, because I thought that was the source of the problem. I was happy to be home with my family and then with Michael and then at school and dealing with casting week and all this stuff. But then that finished up and I had a lot of down time. And that lead to another sobbing mess sitting on my couch in Saint Louis with my parents via Skype. I went home for a restorative weekend with my parents and again we decided it would be best for me to go back on the medication. And again it helped.
Now I was weary of going on an anti-depressant. I know the stigmas attached to them. And I know that as a society we are largely over prescribed. I truly believe that...even though I have no actual proof and have read zero articles. I do believe it. This is my blog...get over it. But I found it that it was a placebo affect in away. It didn't solve my problems, but it helped me get out from under them. It allowed certain thoughts to quiet so that I could focus on the ones that mattered.
And I stayed on them through the end of senior year, through coming out, through moving to New York. And then I couldn't afford health insurance anymore and I quit them cold turkey.
And going through the changes I was going through my first year out of college and in New York City, and dealing with an engagement and a contentious relationship with my family. I don't think I knew it at the time that, that was an issue. I just tried to cope.
And I have mostly found my way to the other side. Because I had to. I have not taken medication for well over a year.
But many days it is a battle.
When I get depressed or anxious it isn't about losing sleep and insomnia and that sort of thing. All I can seem to do is lay in bed and watch television and be entirely passive. The world outside of my room is too much to handle. In here it is safe.
And since being single and moving into a new apartment and having a new job and being super busy things have been great. But after going home and coming back here and now all of the sudden having a whole ton of downtime, because the Public is on hiatus and dealing with the weather and the brokest time of the year I just got hit with it this week.
I gave up on my life for the week.
And again, I am too logical and self-aware to do such things. I know I should reach out. I know if I were to text friends and said hey I am struggling with this and I need you to come over or do something they would. I know if I called my mom or my sisters they would help me through it. But that is too active for me in certain moments.
And there was a time senior year where I did reach out to two friends and they claimed to hear me and then were too busy with their own stuff to help me. And I get that. I don't expect much. I tend to assume nothing. But it makes it harder to reach out again.
And again, this isn't a reach out thing. I don't want this to be an oh pity me, text me, check in with me, because I am woefully depressed.
This is me speaking my truth. Because if I process it in this way it becomes a bit more breathable (like linen pants).
That is not to say don't reach out. I always want the people in my life to feel free to say anything to me. Even if that thing is you're a crock of shit.
The final thing that is in my mind and doesn't have a lot to do with anything...but it kind of does.
A Little Night Music is one of my favorite musicals of all time. And the finale gets me every time. Frederick has just almost killed himself in a game of Russian Roulette. His wife has left him for his son, everyone has basically gone away. Except for Desiree the woman he has jilted. I could go into this. But he is laying on the ground and she is holding him. And there is quite a bit of humor to all of this. And he says,
"Well I think I should get up and confront the world."
And I guess I agree.
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