The Journey Home: 9 Month Reflection Part 1

Since my last post I have been debating about sharing this part of  the journey, and honestly parts of me still are debating. It is raw, vulnerable, emotional, and deep. It is me at my worst, which I don’t always like showing or sharing with others. However, to not share this side would simply be denying the truth.

It’s scary because I don’t know what to expect.  Like, “what are people going to think or say?” “How are they going to view me afterwards?” Another part of me doesn’t want to hide this side of everything anymore. I want to surrender and be set free.

My decision to move and journey home wasn’t an easy choice to make, and it hasn’t been easy. My decision was multilayered, and the hardest choice I have ever made in my life thus far….no questions asked.

For months the saying that was constantly reappearing in my journal was, “I don’t know why I am feeling so sad.” For me, I thought the sadness I was feeling was normal and the usual with post graduate life; that it was normal to feel a little sadness with graduating and having to find who you are as an individual outside of school. To be in a new role, location, and with people that haven’t known you for a very long time. It is normal to be a little sad right? When I started writing in my journal that “there has to be more, I don’t feel good, life isn’t supposed to be like this”… I knew it was much more than just a general sadness…it was depression.

Now, depression isn’t a new battle for me. When I was 16, almost 17, I experienced a really bad time with it, and I promised myself to never let it get that bad again. That is a lot easier said than done when you are in the middle of what I typically refer to as “the darkness.”

I want to state that I do not think or believe that my life in Georgia depressed me. I think for me the depression started before I even applied to the job, however I do think the life I had in Georgia didn’t help what was already going on. I loved my job and my co-workers. I thought the town I was in was the perfect place with just enough, but not too much. I remember when I interviewed I really liked the city because it reminded me of my hometown, but better, and had its own adorable charm. I liked the people I met during my interview. I liked the institution because it reminded me of my alma mater Western Carolina University. As time went on, and the newness of my new life wore off, things just didn’t feel right to me. As much as I wanted it to feel like “home”, it just didn’t, and as much as I wanted to be truly happy I just wasn’t.

Depression

It was in March 2016 when I noticed my mood had changed. I was angry and irritable all the time! Anybody who knows me personally knows this isn’t my default setting. I wanted to bite students heads off on a daily basis or be cold towards them, which wasn’t my normal style or philosophy when it came to my job. I was feeling stressed out and anxious. I didn’t look forward to going to work most days, and felt like I was going through the motions of it all. I remember one day I was going on my lunchtime walk and called my mom, and I started yelling at her about something. I remember thinking, “Why am I yelling at my mom, she has done nothing wrong?” I also remember thinking I haven’t felt this mentally in a bad place since before my gluten free days and Celiac Disease diagnosis, which one of my symptoms from the celiac was mood swings and depression. I talked to my Doctor about it and she thought it could have been a side effect from some new medication, but with changing of the medication things didn’t fully improve. 

The physical effects of depression made their appearance in June 2016 and progressively got worse as the months went by. My insomnia getting out of control was my first big clue. I was sleeping 6 hours or less most nights of the week; then the migraines came due to a lack of sleep. My hair started thinning out. Weight started falling off when I wasn’t even trying. Then the anxiety and sensation that someone was choking me at all times started. I used to cough a lot because of this. All while this was going on, I stopped doing things I loved. I stopped finding joy and gratitude. I hardly exercised. I stopped having dance parties in my living room. I stopped singing in the shower and in my car. I stopped putting on my gel eyeliner because I cried all the time and didn’t want racoon eyes, or for anybody to see the evidence of my sadness. I had to drag myself out of the bed every morning, and would often run late and drink a breakfast smoothie on the way to work. I used to brush my teeth in the bathroom when I would first get to work because of this. I started wearing my hair up more than once a week. I became very negative in my perspective and attitude on all things with life and work.

It all got to a point when I purposely stopped and avoided looking at myself in the mirror because I was ashamed and I felt guilty. I was ashamed of the person I had become; I didn’t recognize her and I felt so far from the real me. I felt like a stranger in my own body and mind. I felt guilty because I had a beautiful life and had achieved everything I ever dreamt of and wanted, but I felt nothing. All I felt was numb, cold, bitter, angry, sad, confused, lonely, and disconnected. 

In July 2016, I went home for a vacation to visit my family and friends. I was feeling burnt out, needed some R&R, and a fresh perspective. I had set up a lunch date with my old Academic Advisor because I knew something was going on with me. I have always identified her as a mentor and role model since the first day I met her, and consider her a second mom to me on some levels. I knew she would give me a good perspective on work related things, inspiration, and/or a kick in the butt. Serendipitously, the Director of Financial Aid asked if I had ever considered coming back to work at that institution someday. At that point, I was still content with where I was at with my old job, so my response was “if it was the right job and the right time, I would be open to it.” Little did I know there were two possible job openings in the future which my old Academic Advisor and I discussed over lunch. Upon going back to Georgia, I wasn’t sure what I thought about the possibility of going back to Western North Carolina. I wrote in my journal that I thought it was too soon and that I just made it through my first year, and didn’t feel like my time was up in my current position. I also knew though that I wasn’t 100% happy either. I didn’t know what to think or do about it. I didn’t know what I wanted in life, besides to just actually feel happy and good again. For the time being, I just set the idea on the shelf, and focused on that upcoming semester and school year.

The Breaking Point

I don’t remember when but it came to a point that Fall when I recognized and said that I couldn’t do or feel the  way I was feeling anymore. Things were not improving, I wasn’t improving, and I couldn’t keep going at the pace I was. My body couldn’t keep going at the pace it was with being in emotional turmoil and never getting any rest. I started getting physically sick more, and my lymph nodes were constantly swollen, which is never good. I battled nausea a lot. I had horrible headaches everyday, and migraines that would last for up to a week. My insomnia was getting worse and I couldn’t go to sleep until 1:00am or later most nights of the week. I was exhausted on every level of health. 

I felt like I was dying from the inside out. I felt enormous amounts of pain and felt nothing all at the same time. 

While everything was going on, I had the job back home in the back of my mind. As time went on I was more open to the idea of it, but I wanted to make sure I applied to it for the right reasons. I talked to my various mentors about it to get their input. I wanted to make sure that it would professionally be a good move for me, so that I wouldn’t look back one day and think that I took the easy way out, and that I made my choice for the best reasons and intentions.

Now, I know what most people are probably thinking and asking right about now. “Why didn’t you get help? Why didn’t you say something sooner? If you would have done something you may not have had to move.” 

I will be the first one to say that you are right. I should have said done something sooner.  Trust me, nobody has thought about that more than me. 

Honestly, I don’t think I was open and ready to admit the truth to myself, to get the help I needed, or to lean in to the people who love me. I didn’t want to admit what was going on with me until it came to a point of no return. To me, in my mind, admitting the truth was admitting defeat and failure. It was the act of admitting to a weakness, and in my mind a flaw that had been present in my life for a long time at that point. I knew that once I admitted it to myself, that I would have to do something about it and inevitably change, or do whatever it would take to change.

It doesn’t help that I am also an insanely prideful and stubborn person. Everyone in my family is! These qualities are not always bad because I never go down without a fight, I stick to what I believe, I rise up when challenges come my way,  and I never let hard times get the best of me. I persist, and I fight for whatever it is I am going through or for whatever I want. However, as good as these qualities of me can be, they can equally lead to my inner destruction. In this situation, it meant that I did not ask for help even though I was struggling a great deal.  For me, I do not like to burden others or I do not want them to perceive me as “weak.” So when it came to actually asking for help with my depression very few people knew. My family and closest friends didn’t even know the full truth of how bad it really was until the middle/late part of Fall 2016. 

Like with most things, I kept it close and locked up inside of me. I let the people in my world think I was okay even though I was far from it. I pushed away those that loved me because I didn’t want them to worry. I  thought I could handle it on my own, and I wanted to believe I was tough and strong enough, but I wasn’t. 

When the job from back home was posted I was still on the fence of do I apply or do I not?  I felt so much pressure coming from both sides. I knew I wasn’t at my best in regards to thinking and decision making, and I knew I didn’t want to make a choice I would later regret. There was my pride and a voice saying that I needed to tough it out, and that I needed to try harder to make my life in Georgia work. There was the feeling of not wanting to leave my old office and co-workers, or leaving my students. I didn’t want to move again or to learn a new job, especially since I just learned my old one. I wanted to believe that if I just push through maybe it would get better. There was the question and worry of if I stay what if things get worse? If I stay what if I continue down this road and remain unhappy? If I stay what will become of me? If I leave, what if I regret my choice? If I leave, what if nothing gets better but gets far worse? Am I running away from my problems and avoiding them? Am I just being a child and immature with all of this?

I truly felt that no matter what path I chose that a part of me was going to lose on some level. I knew that whichever path I decided on my life was going to change, for better or for worse.