Stop!

Earlier this year when I first started to blog about my experience with depression, a friend reached out to me. She was sick and I could tell. She had sought counseling and while it was helping, it wasn’t completely fixing the problem.  I encouraged her to talk with her OB about medication the next time she went in for a checkup. She explained to me that her husband was not on board with drug therapy because she was pregnant. I didn’t go into detail, but explained that I had taken antidepressants when I was pregnant with Patton and he was fine.

While I tried to gently encourage her to at least be honest with her doctor, my mind rushed back to the time I was first diagnosed and treated for depression. I was about 6 months pregnant with my second child and my then husband was openly having an affair. To say I was depressed was a complete understatement. After being pressed by a concerned friend, I made an appointment with my midwife to talk about how I was feeling. She acted as if she heard this all the time and simply wrote me a script for Zoloft, explaining it was completely safe for my baby.  I filled the prescription and went home.

But I didn’t take the medication. I could not wrap my mind around how this tiny half a pill was going to change my station in life. It just didn’t make sense that this little anecdote would help me find the strength to get out of bed every day or to have the desire to play with my three year old. So I waited. I waited and waited until one day, I found myself with a razor blade in one hand and the phone on the edge of the tub as I tried to convince myself that if I picked up the phone quickly enough after making the cut, they would be able to get here quickly enough to save my baby. And in that moment, I truly thought my children would be better off without me and my obvious issues in their life.

Instead, I picked up the phone and called my friend who had encouraged me to seek help in the first place. She rushed over, burst into my bathroom and held me as I sobbed. When I finally calmed down, she walked over to the medicine cabinet, handed me a pill and a glass of water. She told me that her first instinct was to take me to the Emergency Room, but as a mom, she knew leaving my child would be the worst thing for me. She explained that she would be checking up on me regularly, making sure I was taking my medication and the next time she felt I was in danger, she would not hesitate to have me admitted.  She then sat with me until I fell asleep and called regularly to check up on me over the next few days.

Over the next few days, the fog began to lift from my brain. Things became clearer to me & I couldn’t even remember what on earth had made me feel that my children would have ever been better off without me, because I knew that was simply not true.

After reliving those days in my mind, I became angry with her husband & posed a question. I asked, “If you had diabetes and your doctor prescribed insulin, would he ask you not to take it? Would he assume that if you just tried harder, you could overcome it?”  She said without hesitation that he would certainly want her to get the help she needed.

Then why oh why was this situation any different? It isn’t.

So why do so many people feel justified in telling someone with depression or anxiety to just “stop”? Leaving us to feel that if we just tried harder we wouldn’t feel the way we do. Don’t they realize we want that more than anything?  No one wants to be reliant on medication in order to live a normal life.

So, I am going to ask for something from you. Stop standing in the way of those seeking help. Stop posting on Facebook about how you don’t believe in the use of Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRIs), the most commonly prescribed form of antidepressant. Please don’t be yet another hurdle in someone’s path to seeking help. Be part of the solution, not another part of the world that has made us feel inadequate to begin with.

Here's the Truth: She Wasn't Fine

Sometimes, I think to myself “Gosh, Tonyia, you really need to write about something a little more upbeat.”  And then I remember that what I say each week is important. Not because I am important, but because everyone’s story is different and has the power to speak to a distinctive audience.

Last week I went over to visit a friend who was having a rough day. She was depressed, but making excuses as to why she wasn’t.  She kept saying I’m fine, I’m fine.

Here’s the truth: She wasn’t fine. She was full of reasons why she didn’t need help, but I could see the pain in her eyes. She may have been able to fool her husband and other friends, but not me. Looking into her eyes was like staring into my own.

We sat and talked for a while. Then she said something that sent shivers down my spine: “I would never kill myself because my kids would probably find me and then they would be more f’d up than they already are.” She went on to tell me that she had been in her closet at some point with a belt around her neck, afraid. Not afraid of death though, afraid that she would “f” that up too “just like everything else”.

Notice that she didn’t say she wouldn’t kill herself because she had too much to live for or because she wasn’t suicidal. She didn’t want her kids to find her.  In her mind, because her household responsibilities were being met, she wasn’t really depressed. I mean, how could I be truly depressed if I do continue to take care of my day-to-day responsibilities?

The part of this story my sweet friend doesn’t know is how our conversation that day opened my eyes.  I realized that I get out of bed everyday because I have to wake my son for school. Many days, once he is up and moving, I bury myself under the blankets and sleep a few more hours. One day this week, he sent me a text from the bathroom telling me he was going to need a ride. (Yes, sometimes my kids text me from the bathroom). I really, really had hoped to sleep longer that morning.

After I brought him to school, I ran some errands and found myself at Home Depot.  I was not happy to be there by 730.  At that time of day, no one looks at me like I somehow got lost on the way to Macy’s and ended up there by mistake.  I didn’t spend 20 minutes looking for the perfect 1×4, I didn’t gaze endlessly at the power tools making a mental wish list, nor did I play in the bins of nuts and bolts.  That was the moment I realized that something wasn’t right and reached out for help.

This morning, I got a text from a friend that reminded me of the scariest truth about depression: most people with depression are able to hold it together until the day they aren’t.

For a woman in California, yesterday was the day she had to stop pretending everything was okay. Earlier this month, she had been at a football game: laughing, carrying on & having a good time. She was pretending, the way so many of us do. She was either too ashamed to speak out or was not aware of how close to the edge she was.  She took her own life, leaving behind a family who will probably never understand why this happened.  A husband who will question himself and why he couldn’t see his wife needed help. This is a pain that no spouse should ever have to endure.

So here is what I say to you: Don’t make the mistake of pretending everything is okay for so long, you almost believe it yourself. Carrying that burden is exhausting. Hiding what is really inside can be suffocating, tricking your mind into thinking there is only one choice left for you.  Please reach out. Talk to someone. Call someone. The National Suicide Prevention Hotline (800.273.8255) has someone available 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Visit their website or pick up the phone.  Leave a message here and I will do my very best to find you the resources you need in your area.

Please don’t suffer alone. Help is out there. You just have to ask.

Struggling Through the Valley

Because Dave is deployed, I (like most spouses without family close by) feel like my circle of friends has become my family. We eat meals together and we help each other out with things our spouse would normally help out with. We just are there for one another. As the months go by though, I feel like tensions are high for everyone and just like family, we get on each other’s nerves, we get frustrated, we hurt feelings, we argue, and we lash out. Well, since it isn’t really fair to say what other people do, it’s time to own it: I do all of those last things.

Something happened last week that has left me once again feeling left out and on the outside of the circle. A friend asked me to help her with something: to do a favor for her. No problem—I am always happy to help out a friend. I stopped by her house and noticed the spread she had laid out. I jokingly said “Are ya having a party or what?” She replied, “Oh just having some people over for dinner,” and then proceeds to list some mutual friends she had invited over. I tried to hide my hurt, but I am not sure I did a good job. I mean, what the heck: I can be your helpful friend, but not your hungry friend?

Don’t get me wrong; I understand that you can’t always invite everyone to everything. I have talked many friends down from their “why wasn’t I invited, nobody likes me, I’m not really part of the group” pity party. Rational me totally understands that it was not meant to be hurtful. But the truth is, I am not very rational right now. I’m struggling and unfortunately, the world doesn’t stop and change how it rotates just because I have found myself in a funk.

Admitting my depression, anxiety and ADHD was a very difficult step for me to make. Working through it has been a long road and a few months ago, when I finally felt I was better, truly felt like one of the best days of my entire life (read more about that HERE). So, you can imagine how tough it is for me to admit that I am not doing okay anymore.

And apparently that funk has become noticeable enough for my husband to ask if I was still taking my medication. Followed immediately by an “I hope I didn’t offend you, I’m just worried” email. No worries, I’m still medicated.  While I appreciate his concern, worrying him is the absolute last thing I want to do. But if the last year has taught me anything it is that I can’t hide the way I feel. I cannot be ashamed of my struggles. I have to lay them on the table, talk about them and figure out how to move forward.

But the truth of the matter is this: life is full of ups and downs. We must struggle through valleys, places where we yearn for something better, fighting our way out of the darkness. If it was easy, I know I certainly wouldn’t appreciate the beauty of the mountaintop once I finally got there.

Window Licker

Saying goodbye to your spouse as they head off on deployment is never easy, but there are some things that make it easier to bear. The most important thing is being in a good place in your marriage. The second most important thing is surrounding yourself with people that you can just be with.

Dave and I have been in a great place for a few years, so that isn’t something I worry about.  The second part was super easy for me in the past since we had spent so much time stationed in Lemoore. The friendships there were just….they had been there for so long, I couldn’t remember a time they weren’t. I very distinctly remember going to my friend Celeste’s house one day, walking in the door, sitting on the couch and we couldn’t have said more than 10 words to each other in the 5 hours I was there. I just needed to be with someone that day and I was so thankful to have the relationship with her that allowed me to just be in her presence with no explanation needed.

But moving to a new city, literally days before Dave left on a DET made that a little more difficult. I will always remember the first time I met the other wives in the squadron: I made a total ass of myself. I didn’t know a single person there and their first impression was me trying to barrel my way through a locked door not realizing it was not, in fact, an entrance. Nice.

I was the only “new” girl at the time and I felt very much like an outsider. This may or may not have been the case because…well…

this scenario pretty much sums up a lot of my life, except I think that about 96 of them are completely in my head.

Feeling outside the circle leads to a myriad of things that if you didn’t start that way, will probably put you there. I would turn down invitations and avoid going places to hang out. And guess what? All that did was make me feel like even more of an outsider.

So a couple months ago my therapist and I were discussing this issue and she asked me what I was doing to be included. What? Me? Dang it! I hate when she makes me take responsibility! So we decided that I was not going to turn down any invitations. I was just going to say YES to every event I was invited to. The first time was really, really tough. My first response was to say “I’m already in my jammies” but I didn’t. I said sure.  That day kinda started a new trend in my life. I just say yes, but I do allow myself one opportunity a week to just say no and have a day to recoup. 

It has become a little bit of a tradition for some of us wives to hang out in the evenings together. Usually it’s a little like a pick up game—come if you can and if you can’t, we will catch you next time. This past weekend, there were a few parents in attendance of Sunday dinner. A conversation started about how amazing our group was and it got me thinking: just how much of that feeling like an outsider crap was completely in my head all along?

I certainly don’t feel like an outsider anymore: I feel like one of the gang. On Memorial Day, I received a FRANTIC text from my oldest saying that he needed me to bring him deodorant…that’s right…the day before his 19th birthday and he forgot deodorant. Unfortunately, I was pulling into First Landing State Park for a beach day. If you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, you probably know that I have a very difficult time reaching out and asking for help. I did though. I reached out to my friend Jen (same as last week) and asked her if she could please, please, please deliver some deodorant to McKinley at work. How awesome of a friend is that?

I guess the point I want to make is this: as soon as I stopped acting like an outsider, I stopped being one.  And I don’t mean after some time, I felt like one of the gang, I IMMEDIATELY felt like I fit in. Probably because I did. Looking back, I don’t think anyone saw me as an outsider but me. If I had just stuffed down all that insecurity I had, things would have been much easier for me.

So my advice for everyone feeling like an outsider is to put yourself out there!  Get involved! Say YES when you are invited to do something! Put yourself out there! Make some amazing friends! Find someone else who feels like an outsider and become insiders together! You won't regret it!

The View From the Top

I can’t really remember the last time I could say I had a good week, much less an awesome month. This isn’t me being figurative. I seriously cannot remember the last time I had more than 2 or 3 good days in a row.

A few years ago, Dave and I spent some time exploring Japan together. We spent a day on Miyajima, ending our day at the top of Mount Misen. The pictures at the top of this mountain are some of my favorite of any trip we have ever taken. The hike wasn’t easy for me. There were so many times we thought we had almost reached the top of the peak, only to realize it was yet another valley. At one point, Dave found tears of frustration streaming down face and reassured me that we didn’t have to go to the top: we could simply turn around. But I had to do it. I had to make it to the top. I desperately needed to see the view. I needed to know the struggle was worth it.

The last six months or so have very much replicated the day we climbed the Mount Misen. Every time I started to feel like my depression was under control, my panic disorder return with a vengeance. And once I dealt with that, I felt my Asperger’s would kick into overdrive, and, and, and.  I often found myself wondering if it was ever going to be worth it. If I would ever defeat these demons I fight inside my own mind.  Would I ever make it to that happy place again? Would I ever get to stand at the top of the mountain and really see how far I’ve come?

Well, today, I am standing on top of the mountain. I had a med-check with Sam today and realized that we have this under control. I say ‘we’ because I couldn’t do this alone. There is not one single thing that has brought me back into the land of the living. Instead, I had to find the right combination of therapies to pull it all together.

So, did I celebrate? You bet your ass I did! I came home and decided I was finally ready to face these----->>

Yep, those are Christmas cards. Six months ago, I was in no shape to hear all about how wonderful everyone was doing. I just couldn’t face them (read more about that HERE), but today I was finally ready to share in all the joy and happiness of my friends and family.

I am so glad I waited until today to do this. It just seemed right. As I opened each card, I took a moment to think about why the person who sent it was special to me. With each card I opened, filled my heart with a little more love and by the end, I was in tears. Not tears of sadness or frustration, but tears of pure joy.

I am joyful today because I feel like I have made it. I am finally in a good place. I even went as far as to invite myself to a friend’s house this morning after my med-check. That’s something I haven’t felt comfortable enough to do since I left Virginia and I am extremely thankful to Jenn for pointing it out to me (even if she didn't offer me a glass of wine)!

My favorite card today wasn’t a Christmas card, but one that another Jenn had picked up for me. The front reads, “Hang in there—sometimes the prettiest flowers grow in the biggest pile of manure.” And inside, “Hoping better days are on the way.”  Part of me kinda wishes I had opened that one sooner, but then again, I was so deep in that dark valley I don’t know that I would have appreciated it’s meaning. I think I had to spend some time in that darkness so I could truly appreciate the amazing view from where I am now.

Sometimes I Just Need a Little Perspective

I’m going to stick with my original thought: Deployment sucks. But when I’m having one of those days when I just want to feel sorry for myself, I am reminded that I just need a little perspective.

Earlier this month, I drove down to South Carolina for my brother in law’s wedding. We knew that Dave was going to miss the wedding since the day we were invited (I’m still convinced it was revenge for our getting married while he was in boot camp) and I had been preparing to attend without him for months.  My children both backed out of going with me, so I was there solo to represent my little Doyle clan. Everything was going well at the rehearsal dinner until Chris (the middle brother) walked in and hugged Gary. I instantly felt a lump in my throat and my eyes tearing up. There would be no drinking until 4 am and last minute decisions to go sky diving for this brother. Dave was missing it and yeah, deployment sucks.

The following weekend was Mother’s Day, and I spent it with some other wives from the squadron like I usually do. We are quite the eclectic group: some with kids, some without and two that are expecting their first babies later this year. While they were talking about genetic testing, their doctor and where they were delivering, I felt that lump in my throat and stinging in my eyes again. More than likely, those Daddies are going to miss their little ones entrance into the world. So, yeah, the birth of your first child trumps your brother getting married. Those guys are winning the game. Their deployment sucks worse than mine.

Earlier today, I got this text from my son:

                   

I said a silent little prayer and asked him if he caught it. I did not get the answer I wanted. My next thought was: well, do we burn it down or just move? The obvious answer is that we are going to have to burn down the house and start from scratch to make sure that little bastard doesn’t try to move with us. Yeah, a giant lizard in my house equals deployment sucks in my book. 

About half an hour later, I stopped by a friend’s house to deliver an order and she looked a little frantic. Turns out, the dogs had gotten out. Once they (that’s right, I didn’t help, don’t judge me) got the dogs back home, we retreated inside and began to chat. As we watched the kids playing, well maybe not playing so much as tormenting each other, I began to tell her this horrific lizard story and show her the picture. She looked a little confused and I was like “What? There’s a lizard in my house. Isn’t that awful?” She took a sip of wine, looked me square in the face and said “Tonyia, I was walking around in SHIT up to my ankles last week. Not figurative shit. Literal shit from the toilet flooded my house. So no, your lizard isn’t awful.” Guess what? Today, Janine wins the game. Her deployment sucks worse than mine.  

This deployment has been rough for both Dave and I and nothing really points that out like sending birthday wishes to the ship. We have both struggled to find our footing and to get into a routine the last couple months. I was really feeling a little sorry for myself this morning when I got a phone call from a friend. I assumed she was calling to ask me about the mug I was personalizing for her, but I was wrong. So very wrong. She was calling to let me know that the TR had lost a jet, it was a two seater (not one of ours) and both pilots were found unharmed.  Guess what? At that moment, I realized this deployment hasn’t been that bad. I feel like THOSE guys (or gals) are having a shitty deployment. Those two: they are 100% having the worst deployment. Those families? They get to spend some time bitching about how much deployment sucks. But in reality, those families aren’t complaining and neither are the pilots.

Today we, as a Navy family are counting our blessings. Today I realized that this deployment doesn’t suck as much as others. Today, I remember pilots who were not found unharmed following an incident. When I think of the sailors who missed a loved one’s last breath, missing the first breath doesn’t seem so terrible anymore.