At 19 years old I
intentionally overdosed and cut my wrists. I was not confused, I
wanted to die.
I didn't die.
What came next was excruciating. Hospitals and physically healing, but by far, the hardest part of my healing was emotional. Psychiatric appointments, therapy, rehab, constantly adjusting medications until the right combo could be found for me.... And oh the side effects of those medications. The dry mouth, the funky metal taste in my mouth, the nausea, the fatigue. Some of them I have forgotten and some of the side effects make my body tense just thinking about them. Eventually, the doctors were happy with my prescription and dosage and I was responding well and adjusted to the side effects and life went on.
Some people would say that the medication was a crutch, that it made me weak or that it was a cop out. There are cruel people, especially in this age of the internet where we can sit behind our screens and toss judgment around cloaked in anonymity, I will tell you that the medication didn't make me weak....it made it possible for me approach the story of my life from a position of real vulnerability so that I could face that story and walk away victorious: with healing. I spent years, all of my twenties and now the first half of my thirties, doing Some REALLY hard work for that healing. I have earned it. Some of those years required medication to make that possible, and many of them have not. I am grateful for the science that has contributed to leveling out my brain chemistry so that I could do the work required for healing and I am grateful to God who brought people into my life to help facilitate the healing of my most deep pain and brokenness.
Today is World Mental Health Day. The goal, I think, is to bring awareness to the fact that people suffer mentally and emotionally... And that these people look like me and you. These people, my people, do not need more advice-- they need compassion and understanding. They do not need non-doctors passing out advice about prescriptions nor do they need any more shame. For at the heart of depression and most mental health issues is deeply rooted shame.
I was 19 when I tried to kill myself. But the time I graduated university at 22, I was completely off of my medication. I had done intensive work with a fabulous therapist as well as the wonderful people I met through Alcoholics Anonymous. I felt good about where I was mentally and emotionally. Then came a big break up, a huge move and the beginning of graduate school stress and madness. In the midst of my second semester in my MSW program I was flying off the rails. I knew I had lost my momentum and I was feeling broken and lost. I sought counseling again and I faced the difficult decision of going back on medication. The day the therapist recommended medication felt like such a setback. I felt like a failure. I was drowning in shame. Why couldn't I handle my life on life's terms? A wonderful Christian woman sat with me after an AA meeting while I wept and she gave me beautifully freeing advice, "If you had cancer would taking the treatment feel like failure to you?" I said no, but depression and cancer are different. Then she said, "If I stop my cancer treatments I will surely die... Maybe quickly or maybe slowly but it will happen. If you try to fight this on your own, without treatment, we already know the outcome. You were 19 the first time this disease almost took you out."
I went back on medication for about 6 months and again found myself in a routine that worked well for me. When I weaned off the medication at the age of 23, I have never needed it again. Not because my depression is magically or miraculously gone, there are seasons where I feel its dark grip and I feel afraid. But, I have been able to catch it early. I am vulnerable and accountable to people in my life that help me and through diet and exercise and a healthy routine, I have been able to handle my depression without medication.
I have prayed and prayed for my physical and emotional scars to be removed. I have prayed to be free from depression and what I have learned is that healing comes in many different forms. Sometimes it is instant and miraculous, sometimes it comes at the hands of medical professionals who are gifted by God to accomplish miraculous feats and sometimes it comes in death, when our souls find peace in a perfect eternity. My healing has come as a journey. I have learned to admit honestly what is going on in my world, I have learned to ask for help and I am learning not to be afraid of what form that help comes in. My faith is in God and He gives me hope.
Today we acknowledge that people in our home, our family and our community need help. We acknowledge that we might not always know how to provide that help, but we can most certainly offer compassion and a safe place for people like me to be my real self. The church can and should be a such a place. My prayer is that every person who seeks a listening ear in the church finds someone as wise, understanding and hospitable as the Christian woman I met in a dingy basement AA meeting!
I didn't die.
What came next was excruciating. Hospitals and physically healing, but by far, the hardest part of my healing was emotional. Psychiatric appointments, therapy, rehab, constantly adjusting medications until the right combo could be found for me.... And oh the side effects of those medications. The dry mouth, the funky metal taste in my mouth, the nausea, the fatigue. Some of them I have forgotten and some of the side effects make my body tense just thinking about them. Eventually, the doctors were happy with my prescription and dosage and I was responding well and adjusted to the side effects and life went on.
Some people would say that the medication was a crutch, that it made me weak or that it was a cop out. There are cruel people, especially in this age of the internet where we can sit behind our screens and toss judgment around cloaked in anonymity, I will tell you that the medication didn't make me weak....it made it possible for me approach the story of my life from a position of real vulnerability so that I could face that story and walk away victorious: with healing. I spent years, all of my twenties and now the first half of my thirties, doing Some REALLY hard work for that healing. I have earned it. Some of those years required medication to make that possible, and many of them have not. I am grateful for the science that has contributed to leveling out my brain chemistry so that I could do the work required for healing and I am grateful to God who brought people into my life to help facilitate the healing of my most deep pain and brokenness.
Today is World Mental Health Day. The goal, I think, is to bring awareness to the fact that people suffer mentally and emotionally... And that these people look like me and you. These people, my people, do not need more advice-- they need compassion and understanding. They do not need non-doctors passing out advice about prescriptions nor do they need any more shame. For at the heart of depression and most mental health issues is deeply rooted shame.
I was 19 when I tried to kill myself. But the time I graduated university at 22, I was completely off of my medication. I had done intensive work with a fabulous therapist as well as the wonderful people I met through Alcoholics Anonymous. I felt good about where I was mentally and emotionally. Then came a big break up, a huge move and the beginning of graduate school stress and madness. In the midst of my second semester in my MSW program I was flying off the rails. I knew I had lost my momentum and I was feeling broken and lost. I sought counseling again and I faced the difficult decision of going back on medication. The day the therapist recommended medication felt like such a setback. I felt like a failure. I was drowning in shame. Why couldn't I handle my life on life's terms? A wonderful Christian woman sat with me after an AA meeting while I wept and she gave me beautifully freeing advice, "If you had cancer would taking the treatment feel like failure to you?" I said no, but depression and cancer are different. Then she said, "If I stop my cancer treatments I will surely die... Maybe quickly or maybe slowly but it will happen. If you try to fight this on your own, without treatment, we already know the outcome. You were 19 the first time this disease almost took you out."
I went back on medication for about 6 months and again found myself in a routine that worked well for me. When I weaned off the medication at the age of 23, I have never needed it again. Not because my depression is magically or miraculously gone, there are seasons where I feel its dark grip and I feel afraid. But, I have been able to catch it early. I am vulnerable and accountable to people in my life that help me and through diet and exercise and a healthy routine, I have been able to handle my depression without medication.
I have prayed and prayed for my physical and emotional scars to be removed. I have prayed to be free from depression and what I have learned is that healing comes in many different forms. Sometimes it is instant and miraculous, sometimes it comes at the hands of medical professionals who are gifted by God to accomplish miraculous feats and sometimes it comes in death, when our souls find peace in a perfect eternity. My healing has come as a journey. I have learned to admit honestly what is going on in my world, I have learned to ask for help and I am learning not to be afraid of what form that help comes in. My faith is in God and He gives me hope.
Today we acknowledge that people in our home, our family and our community need help. We acknowledge that we might not always know how to provide that help, but we can most certainly offer compassion and a safe place for people like me to be my real self. The church can and should be a such a place. My prayer is that every person who seeks a listening ear in the church finds someone as wise, understanding and hospitable as the Christian woman I met in a dingy basement AA meeting!
1 comment:
Good morning, how are you?
My name is Emilio, I am a Spanish boy and I live in a town near to Madrid. I am a very interested person in knowing things so different as the culture, the way of life of the inhabitants of our planet, the fauna, the flora, and the landscapes of all the countries of the world etc. in summary, I am a person that enjoys traveling, learning and respecting people's diversity from all over the world.
I would love to travel and meet in person all the aspects above mentioned, but unfortunately as this is very expensive and my purchasing power is quite small, so I devised a way to travel with the imagination in every corner of our planet. A few years ago I started a collection of used stamps because through them, you can see pictures about fauna, flora, monuments, landscapes etc. from all the countries. As every day is more and more difficult to get stamps, some years ago I started a new collection in order to get traditional letters addressed to me in which my goal was to get at least 1 letter from each country in the world. This modest goal is feasible to reach in the most part of countries, but unfortunately, it is impossible to achieve in other various territories for several reasons, either because they are very small countries with very few population, either because they are countries at war, either because they are countries with extreme poverty or because for whatever reason the postal system is not functioning properly.
For all this, I would ask you one small favor:
Would you be so kind as to send me a letter by traditional mail from Zimbabwe? I understand perfectly that you think that your blog is not the appropriate place to ask this, and even, is very probably that you ignore my letter, but I would call your attention to the difficulty involved in getting a letter from that country, and also I don’t know anyone neither where to write in Zimbabwe in order to increase my collection. a letter for me is like a little souvenir, like if I have had visited that territory with my imagination and at same time, the arrival of the letters from a country is a sign of peace and normality and an original way to promote a country in the world. My postal address is the following one:
Emilio Fernandez Esteban
Avenida Juan de la Cierva, 44
28902 Getafe (Madrid)
Spain
If you wish, you can visit my blog www.cartasenmibuzon.blogspot.com where you can see the pictures of all the letters that I have received from whole World.
Finally, I would like to thank the attention given to this letter, and whether you can help me or not, I send my best wishes for peace, health and happiness for you, your family and all your dear beings.
Yours Sincerely
Post a Comment