I’m here now. I have been in a labyrinth of doubt, fear, depression, panic and cycles of thoughts telling me I am to old and what I want doesn’t matter. Pervasive thoughts of death and wanting to die. I thought about driving my car off a bridge or into a median at highway speeds a lot this last year. Its been a rough season. I’ve been all over the place. I hadn’t really understood depression till this season of my life. The loss of energy, small daily tasks becoming difficult and feeling overwhelming, feeding myself becoming a daily struggle, the loss of wanting things, becoming more listless, a sense of paralysis about making decisions, a general heaviness that made everything that much harder. Connecting with people felt more difficult.
I took a trip to NYC earlier this year to visit some friends who were getting settled into a new life there and reconnecting with friends I hadn’t seen in a long time. I was terrified. Packing for that trip felt almost insurmountable. I struggled and tried to think about what all I might need for the trip. It was exhausting. Once I got there I felt a lift for a few days as the newness and sensory overload was a distraction from the state I’d been living in. However, the heavy cloud settled back over me again. It was frustrating to feel that way. I’m grateful to have good friends who were empathetic and cared for me well, yet it felt like I couldn’t shake the pervasive despondency.
I think what I’m expressing with this post is that sometimes we need help and that’s okay. I found a sense of relief through several different avenues. I kept engaging in honest conversations with people who care about me, started receiving prayer and engaging in more hopeful narratives about my life, sought professional mental health services and made the choice to try out medication for depression. This process was painful and scary. I think one of the biggest shifts for me mentally with the medication was that I started to have energy to do things that I wanted to do even though they scared me. (Also wanting to do things was incredible!) I decided to take the biggest solo camping trip I’ve ever taken out to the west coast. California has had a draw for me that I couldn’t fully explain for some time now.
I knew I wanted to surf and there was a coffee company that I have admired for years now that I wanted to vibe out.
My good friend had a connection with one of the owners of the company and I was open to meeting up with them even though I was scared. (This person is kind of a role model to me.) I started feeling life seep back into me when I got out on the road. It was like there was a part of me that had been on mute for a very long time that started to come back into audible range. I also realized that I didn’t mind being alone as much as I thought I would. It was empowering to be making all the small daily decisions that I needed to make in order to successfully navigate the trip. I met a lot of really cool interesting people along the way and I felt encouraged that a different path was possible for me. After all, some people are out here pursuing things they care about and embracing the vulnerability that comes with that.
When I returned home to Kansas City I decided to quit my job and move out to California in the span of like a week. I had a vague idea of what I was doing, but no concrete plans. I just heard a sound deep inside myself and decided to listen again. I cried. I was so scared. One of my brother’s was a significant source of encouragement and stability in that fragile moment of decision. I had a lot of support from friends and family who have seen me in the depths of depression and are rooting for me. I’m so grateful.
And then, just like that, I’m off on a new adventure. Life is a fragile thing. Keep going. Whatever your brain is telling you might not be the truth. Connection is vital.
I want this blog to be part processing, part vulnerable exposure, part creative outlet, part personal development and I think dropping you right in the middle of everything is the reasonable place to start. Thanks for reading. I’m grateful to exist in your memory.
structures of home 