Today I wanted to take a moment and open myself up a little to you all on a subject that is near and dear to my heart and is very personal. Personal because it involves me. Personal because I have not shared this publicly before and I figure I am almost 50 what do I have to lose and it might even save someone else’s life. Who knows…..but, if it does it will be because God gave me the courage to share. God gave me the strength to share. And God showed me time and time again He loves me so why not share!
Do you ever feel angry and you just don’t know why? Maybe you are just exhausted and you don’t know why? Maybe you are sad and you just don’t know why. For me it is anger, irritability, and a feeling of is this it? What is this I am talking about? It is depression. I suffer from depression, but I like to think of myself as in remission.
My story starts back in high school, which I have shared before. I was 16 when I came home one day and told my mom I was angry, sad, and was not for sure what the point to life was. I remember crying my eyes out and I remember she got me in the car right then and there and took me to the clinic and let them know we had an emergency and I had to be seen. I remember Dr. Nesbit was so gracious and saw us and I just cried. He told my mom he thought I had depression and he would like to medicate me with Tofranil. I remember this day like it was yesterday. My mom was amazing and agreed to the medicine, which back in the 80’s carried a huge stigma.
I did pretty good on my medicine until I graduated college. At this point I decided I was good and did not need the medicine or counseling anymore. First thing I did was stop taking my medicine cold turkey. BIG MISTAKE! HUGE! It was November of 1994 and I remember it like it was yesterday! Ginger and I went to a TCU football game about a week after I stopped my medicine and when we got back from the game my dad was very angry with me about something. Whatever it was must not have been a big deal because for the life of me I cannot remember what it was. But, I do remember him yelling at me in front of Trey and his friend. It upset me so bad I went into my bathroom, grabbed my anti depressant, took a handful of them, walked back out to the living and yelled, “I just took a handful of my medicine! Do you love me enough to save me!”
Of course my father did! He rushed me to the hospital where I got my stomach pumped and I began intense counseling. It was in counseling that I learned a lot about depression and myself. The biggest lesson I learned was my anger, combined with my sadness, found ways to convince me that I was a terrible person, that nobody would love. So, what did I do? I would test it by acting out, lying, or worse, threatening my life.
Why am I sharing this now? Well for starters it is Mental Health Awareness Month and I am not going to be quiet anymore. Why? A lot of reasons really, but the biggest one is I have three amazing boys who need to know that there is no shame in mental illness. It is just that. An illness. No different than diabetes where you need your insulin everyday. It is just that. An illness of the brain. I have three boys who have a strong lineage of mental illness and I don’t want them to ever feel they are alone. IF God forbid they have been “blessed” with the illness I need them to know ME TOO and I am OK. I have three boys who I love dearly and I want them to know that getting help is not a sign of weakness, on the contrary it is a sign of courage. My boys are the reason I am sharing now. My three beautiful boys!!!!!
I want them to know and you to know that there is no shame in mental illness and there is no shame in talking about it either. None. Matter of fact, I would argue that the shame lies with a person who believes there is shame in mental illness. I would argue they are a coward and hiding from something. Maybe it is not mental illness, but it is something they are hiding from. I would argue from the rooftops than anyone with mental illness who does not hide behind it is more courageous than anyone who makes fun of them for the illness. And lastly, I would argue mental illness is not a personal failure and looks different on everyone.
So if you are reading this and you suffer from mental illness of any kind I first want you to know YOU ARE NOT ALONE! ME TOO!
Until Next Time,
XO,
Amy
