It’s a busy time of year, no doubt. The clock is ticking away toward Christmas, and every day to do lists have grown to an unnatural size. The world hasn’t stopped to allow us the peace to enjoy the season, but instead ramped up it’s expectations. And unfortunately we tend to do the same for ourselves, demanding perfection and constant holiday cheer. Family schedules are packed tight with all the regular occurrences and then we pack them some more with holiday “must do’s”. We tie it with a bow and smile for endless pictures, and share them with family and friends or on social media.
I have been on a downhill slide recently- struggling with health problems, an overwhelming work load that never stops, and a seemingly endless holiday to-do list that was growing by the minute. My mental health has been on slow decline since kicking the meds, yet I had continued to ignore it. There was no time to be sad. Too much to do. “Just keep swimming”, right?
So I micromanaged everything the best I could, because doing so gives me a false sense of control (obviously not a super healthy coping skill) and became an even more tense, rigid, structured, stressed out human…this, unsurprisingly, was unhelpful.
So there I sat on the couch last week scrolling through Facebook for the first time in awhile. I found myself looking at all the happy pictures. Pictures of families cutting down trees, visiting Christmas towns, going on polar express experiences on trains… everyone looking so happy, so perfectly made up. Matching pajamas! Perfectly decorated houses. Every darn elf on the shelf doing incredible feats of magic..and I lost it. I just completely lost it.
Some back story : Our elf is a slacker. He changes locations…that’s about it. He’s also an imposter, to be quite honest. I had to buy a new one this year after I scoured every inch of the house and discovered that he is legitimately just gone. Maybe magic? I searched every store for matching pajamas, proudly brought them home, and my youngest’s didn’t fit. There is no time in our schedules for trips to faraway train yards. My oldest is allergic to tree mold. Our fake tree has an entire branch covered in slime from 2 years ago.
So anyway, there I was, totally losing my grip and sobbing like a baby. I was on my way downhill anyway, to be fair, but all that perfection was all the push I needed to go off the edge entirely. I had what I would consider one the worst nervous breakdowns I can remember in my lifetime. I cried most of the night. The empty feeling was more awful than I can describe honestly to you. It was almost as if the very last “happy” chemical in my brain made its final exit, and the void it left was so empty and so big that it was more than I could handle. I took a sick day at work the next day, and spent most of the day crying as well.
This is the part of the story where I should be telling you that things take a good turn and I have miraculously found Christmas joy and gotten my crap together, right? I really wish it was.
I am holding myself together moment by moment right now. I’m fighting back tears constantly throughout the day. I’m desperately trying to “feel the happy”, and “hide the sad” for my poor girls and husband who have walked in on me crying more than I’m proud of the past couple of weeks.
I’ve bitten the bullet and made an appointment to get back on medication.
It’s quite clear that trying to eat healthier, or cut back on caffeine and alcohol, or practicing mindfulness, or attend regular therapy, are just not enough. Not enough at all my friends. Do you know what that feels like? It feel like defeat. It feels like I should be able to push through this and just be a “normal human” like everyone else. It also feels like regret. I should have given in sooner, before things got to this point. Finally is feels like grief, grieving for the beautiful season I’m missing out on, because my brain decided that manufacturing serotonin wasn’t on the to-do list.
So this Christmas, while I wait for my appointment to take a gamble on a new medication, I’ll just be surviving. All the beautiful and wonderful things will still be around me-I am incredibly blessed and I know this. But being blessed doesn’t help. I think people don’t understand that about depression. It doesn’t matter how blessed you are. It doesn’t matter how much worse anyone else has it. It doesn’t matter how much money you make, or how much you weigh, or what your professional title is. If depression takes its grip on you, that’s it.
I normally try to write things that I feel will strike a chord with someone or inspire good. I don’t have it in me right now. But maybe, just maybe, I’ll be back to that soon. In the meantime if you are struggling this holiday season, keep going. We can do this. It’s okay too if you are just figuring out that you need some help -because if you can’t make your own serotonin, store bought is just fine too.
The Anxious Empath 