To Those Who Pretend They Can be Superman...

Tell everybody
Waiting for Superman
That they should try to
Hold on the best they can
He hasn't dropped them, forgot them or anything
It's just too heavy for Superman to lift 

- Iron and Wine

This one's all about asking for help when you know you need it.  Don't be superman.  Be you.  Real people break.  Real people have glass jaws.  Real people can lose it.  Real people are not super heroes.  I pretended I was for a very long time...

I've been battling depression for probably the last 6 years.  It's had its ups and downs throughout the years, but began to slowly become an uphill battle in March of 2011.  I finally had the courage...let me emphasize that word...COURAGE...to ask for help.  Mostly because a friend really pushed me to do it.  And I really needed help, just didn't want to admit it.  No way in hell did I need help dealing with anything.  Not me.  I was superman. 

I wasn't sure that I wanted to be alive anymore, I was cutting, taking sleeping pills, I acquired an eating disorder.  I was content with balling up and crying every chance I had, sleeping throughout the day, lifting weights and running knowing that I had no decent nutrition for my body.  I dropped about 15 pounds in a month.  Friends were asking why my body was disappearing and why I looked like a walking zombie. But I always had some sort of excuse.  Excuses, excuses. 

So finally, I said screw it, I'm going to the doctor.  It was actually the day after St. Patricks Day.  All I remember was trying to keep my cool.  I didnt even tell my mother why I had made the appointment, just for a regular check-up.  I dont like her to worry.  To this day she has never known the extent to how poorly I was doing.

So the appointment came and went, I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder and depression.  I was given pills to ease the anxiety, and was told that I need to start therapy ASAP.  I managed to call my mother and explain to her what was going on, and then got my first speeding ticket on my way home (slap in the faaaace).  Needless to say, it was NOT a good day.  Taking pills and talking to someone to help me??  No way, I was above that.  Totally in denial.

But I went through with it.  Saw a psychiatrist who prescribed me with anti-depressants (yay more pills), and she referred me to a therapist to see on a weekly basis.  I started on the pills-Celexa, which made me lose more weight.  They cause stomach issues for one reason or another.  And then one day I started therapy.

Yes, the first appointment is weird as hell.  This is someone that you have never seen before in your life, and you have to tell them all your problems?  FUDGE.  The night before my first visit, I took a pen to my journal and wrote everything I needed to get out in the open, just to be completely prepared for everything.  So the next morning I'm sure I talked his ear off and all that...

Skip a little to the future...

I went from seeing him weekly, to seeing him every two weeks, to every three, and so on.  I was getting stronger, standing on my own two feet.  I wrote down everything I felt all the time.  Now yes, there were ups and downs where I thought I was gonna break, but it always got better.  I was eating normally, I wasnt cutting, no pain or sleeping pills, started body building and running more often.  Great stuff.

Skip to the past few weeks....

Life was perfect for a while.  I stopped therapy all together, even asked my psychiatrist to take me off the Celexa (which she said no lol).  I found this little missing puzzle piece in a truly amazing man.  I went to bed with a smile every night, slept well, woke up with a smile every morning, walked with this crazy swag, smiled like the Cheshire Cat every minute of the day.  People noticed.  Friends, my kids, some of the kids' parents.  I even had someone ask me "Who are YOU in love with?!"  Just glowing.  Life was as close to perfect as it could get...I had met my match.  His family was amazing, especially his mother.  For the little amount of time that I knew him and his family, I fell in love with them all. I had met "the one."...

Well sometimes things just don't work out in the way you think they should.  He left me.  (See rule #3 in previous post about me pushing people away).  I pushed him away because some weird shit went on one week.  I had an ex call and threaten my job and reduce me to nothing, and I got into a fight with my mother.  I let that affect me so much that I had pushed this guy away from me, let my depression take over, and told him to find someone who was happier.  Didnt expect that he wouldnt push back, but I dont blame him. 

Needless to say, the depression I experienced in the week to follow was crippling, and still tends to be.  It was to the point that I was awake for only 6 hours a day, wasnt eating, cutting again, wanted to die, cried for hours on end, could barely go to work, stopped lifting.  I just lost myself when I lost him.  Some people say you have to move on and stand on your own, but everyone works a little differently.  When I fall, I fall hard.  I love with my whole heart and give everything I have.  My heart has been badly bruised in the past, but this time i felt as if it had been crushed.  I blamed him to make myself feel better.  And then came down VERY hard on myself and took all the blame.

I contemplated suicide two or three times, but was strong enough to get my ass on the phone to A) my therapist, and B) some of my closest friends.  I wont use real names in my blogs, but Panda was the first one there for me when I had a bottle of pain pills in my hand.  On the phone with me at midnight just talking me through, trying to talk about the good old days and funny memories.  It helped.  I made it through that night.  I ended up having the weekend off to be with him and be in a wedding so it was a nice getaway.  There's someone who has never, and will never let me down. 

The next week had its ups and downs as well.  I tried again for the pain pills, but again got my ass on the phone to DDR who talked me through this one.  Had therapy again that week, and felt better...for that day at least.  Thursday and Friday were awful for me.  I had enough of it.  I called my Boo and my K and planned myself a little rehab sesh with the girls.  Boo and I met for coffee, she took my knife for good reason.  We talked and bitched and cried...mind you we were in a Starbucks lol.  And then I spent the night at K's.  I texted her the night before telling her I needed her to basically babysit me- in real terms, I put myself on suicide watch.  She helped me make it through the weekend and has checked on me every day since. 

Come Monday I decided to let my anger and rage take over.  I basically put all my effort into being one pissed off bitch.  I decided I would blame "him" for everything, blah blah blah.  I raged on twitter and raged to my friends.  Decided I functioned better as an angry guarded bitch rather than a sad depressed loser.  That lasted all of about two days.

Last night I fell asleep on my couch and had a dream about him- *after we had broken up he had gotten a girl pregnant, and he broke down and told me about it all.  Said the next 9 months were going to be hell for him and that the girl he was having a kid with wasnt who he wanted.  He cried like mad outta those hazel eyes.  Told me that we belonged together and to forgive him for whatever.  I'll never forget how freaking detailed this dream was, but I remember looking into his eyes and saying "I will always support you and be there for you through everything. We belong together dont we?" And he nodded his head "yes" and took me in his arms.* Then I woke up at 2am and cried for a while.  That dream hit me so hard.  Most of my friends know that I do tend to have very vivid dreams that affect me like crazy.  That was probably the hardest hitting dream of them all.  I was finally channeling my sadness into anger, and then that dream just hammered my soft spot.  I wished that it wasnt a dream, I still do wish it was real.  I would do anything to get the chance to undo this and have my meathead back, ya know? 

Thankfully, I had therapy today.  Cried with my therapist for about an hour, felt exhausted and run down, and cancelled a date with someone who only wanted to get in my pants.  Yay me, I made a great decision.  No more disrespecting myself like that.  And I dont regret it.  I need to respect myself and stop trying to fill voids in the wrong way. 

I do feel better today in a way though.  This blog is helping me, and I feel like it may help others who can relate to me.  I know this is an extremely long one, but I felt like sharing my journey with this depression.  I do not hide it, I am not ashamed of it.  It is part of who I am. It will never defeat me, and although I may never defeat it, I will fight it full force and stare it straight in the eye.

The bottom line is, we can all overcome this kind of stuff.  It's not a bad thing to ask for help, it just shows that you're ready to fight for yourself.  I could have taken the easy way out several times, but I didnt.  I fought.  I continue to fight right now, and I will continue to fight in the future.  You can all do the same, trust me.  It's not worth it to take the easy way out.  How would you become stronger? 

Ive had this said to me many times by the man that I fell in love with:  "Is this how you want to be remembered?  Are you gonna let depression become your legacy?"  No.  My legacy will be how I overcame and conquered this beast.  I will do it standing on my own two feet, but I will always use my support system if I need something to lean against: My family, my friends, my therapist, my kids, my patients. 

I am willing to bet that you've got a great support system as well.  Dont be afraid to ask them for help.  Talk to them.  Let them guide you.  Stand up.  Love yourself.