When all you CAN do is say I CAN'T (Pt. 2)

*If you haven't read part 1, please do (otherwise this post won't make sense :D)

Enter my (now) hubby. Don't worry, this isn't some sappy story about how I met the love of my life and suddenly all my problems melted away. No, my anxiety actually got worse during the course of our relationship. In fact, I had my first panic attack one night during our engagement. I didn't know what was happening, he didn't know what was happening. However, he responded in the best way possible. He helped me slow down my breathing by matching his, he had me focus on his face, he helped me uncurl my body, and he talked me through it until the panic passed. We talked about it a little bit then, but not deeply. I also attended therapy briefly during this time because I didn't want to enter our marriage already being an emotional mess (looking back I realize that this wasn't a healthy mindset and I wasn't actually in a mental space where therapy would help me because I was still in denial that I even had depression and anxiety).

Therapy helped in that it started a conversation between me and my soon-to-be-husband about my mental health. I finally felt like I could share what was going on inside my head with another person whom I trusted completely. We got married and I began slipping down the slope towards another depressive episode because NEWS FLASH: Marriage is hard and stressfull! Our first year of marriage we were both in school full-time, both working part-time, and trying to adjust to married life. I desperately wanted to be the picture perfect wife, while still holding onto my identity as an over-achieving student. Again, I stopped working out and my diet began to crumble. I was becoming emotionally unstable, had headaches almost every day, felt fatigued all the time, and was quite irritable.

In January I made the New Year's Resolution that 90% of people make (I literally pulled this statistic out of thin air, but it's probably pretty accurate), to start exercising. I've set this resolution for the past 5+ years, but this year I was actually able to stick with it and it had everything to do with my mental health. Instead of telling myself that that I was working out to lose weight and look better, I told myself that I was working out because of how it made me feel. My moods started to improve, my headaches went down to one every other week or so, and I had more energy. I was pulling myself out my depressive episode (with a lot of love, support, and encouragement from my hubby) and I was proud of myself.

Then came the biggest low I'd ever hit.

My husband, Jimmy, is a (soon-to-be) pilot in the United States Air Force. In June of this year he had to leave me to start training in Del Rio, TX. I was staying in Provo to finish my student teaching and graduate. The first day of this separation was the first time we had ever spent a night apart in our entire marriage. Let me tell you how I was a complete mess. I walked around our apartment sobbing uncontrollably, I had trouble falling asleep, I felt completely lost and alone. The first few weeks of our separation were ROUGH. I was crying about 80% of the time, I didn't have an appetite, I didn't have the energy to work out, I could barely get myself out of bed. During the day I could pull myself just long enough to teach lessons, but that was about it.

The worst part about it was that I knew what was happening. I knew I was sinking into a major depressive episode, but I felt helpless to stop it. I knew what would make it better (exercising, getting enough sleep, eating), but I just couldn't get myself to do it. I could plan one lesson a day, but I couldn't get myself to work on my teaching portfolio or put the time into my teaching that I really wanted to. I felt helpless and couldn't see things getting better. I missed my husband dearly and I was struggling to function without him.

I finally reached my breaking point.

One afternoon my advisor wanted to meet with me. During out meeting she brought up how sad I seemed and she asked me if I had depression. I started crying and was finally able to say "yes"; I was finally ready to admit that I suffered from anxiety and depression and I needed help. My advisor started telling me about her daughter who also suffers from depression and everything she described I saw in myself. I felt like I was in a fog, like I couldn't focus or concentrate on anything, I wasn't sleeping well, I couldn't remember things, I would zone out, I wasn't present in my life. She asked me if I had seen a doctor or if I was on any medications. I told her "no" because I hadn't been ready to admit that I needed help and I didn't want to be dependent on a medication. Then she said something that changed my entire perspective: "If you broke your leg, would you just tell yourself to suck it up and that you would be able to fix it on your own? Because that's how you have to think of the brain. It is part of your body and it is broken. Depression and anxiety are due to hormonal imbalances and are a sign that something isn't working right. Just like you wouldn't expect a broken leg to heal on its own, you shouldn't expect your brain to heal on its own". After she said this I realized it was time for me to take my mental health into my own hands.

After much thought, prayer, and discussion with my husband, I decided that I needed to stop my student teaching. I had too many triggers in my life (living with my landlords, not having any of my stuff, student teaching, and being separated from my husband) and I wasn't able to give the young children I was working with the teacher they deserved. I felt like I was lying to them and to myself because I was trying to help them navigate their own feelings, emotions, and social anxieties when I couldn't even handle my own. So, I stopped my student teaching, took my degree without licensure, and headed down to Texas to be with my husband.

I only had a week to spend with him before he went to his Initial Flight Training for a month. I made the decision to move in with my parents while he was gone and really take the time to get myself in a good mental space. Being with my family gave me the support system that I needed to help myself. I started a morning routine of yoga, scripture study, breakfast, and working out. I tried to keep myself busy by having my mom teach me the basics of sewing and helping her re-do my dad's office furniture. I spent time with my siblings and my nieces and nephews. I read for fun (not for school) and I made a game plan for when I got back to Texas: Keep up my routine and start therapy.

If you've stuck with me this far, then THANK YOU!!!! I know the story is long, but I feel like it is important to get it out there. Part of the driving force behind this blog is to find joy in the messi bits of life. I'm hoping to keep my depression at bay by re-framing the messi bits to focus on the positives. I also feel like it is important because it is a topic that many battle behind closed doors. I never wanted to admit that I suffered from anxiety and depression, I didn't want people to judge me or think I was broken, and I didn't want to be a burden to anyone. But, in my journey to taking control of my mental health, I have begun to realize just how important it is to TALK ABOUT IT!!!! Every person I have shared my story with has either suffered from anxiety or depression themselves, or is close to someone who has. Mental health is a universal issue and it needs to be talked about. I hope that in sharing my mental health journey, others will feel like they can talk about their struggles as well and get the help that they need.

I had to hit a very low point to finally accept that something wasn't quite right in my mind, and I hope that by sharing my story with others they won't have to hit that low point before getting help. There is no shame in therapy or medication or any form of help that you feel you need. And it's okay to tell people that you CAN'T do something. Giving up on my student teaching was one of the hardest things I had to do. I felt like I was letting so many people down, that I was giving up too easily, that I should just push through and finish because I was only 5 weeks away from getting my teaching license. I felt the same way when I decided to not serve a mission. But I realized that my mental health is just as important, if not more important, than my physical health. I couldn't be a successful student teacher with where my mental state was at and I realized that that was OKAY!

If you have feelings of anxiety or depression don't feel like you have to push it away or can't talk about it. Don't feel like you have to push yourself to do things. Don't feel like you need to tell yourself that you can make yourself better. I know that I felt like I could just pray, read, talk, exercise, insert self-help tip here, my way back into happiness. I was discouraged with myself because I should have been happy. I had/have a great and very blessed life and if you looked in on it you would think that all was sunshine and rainbows and that I have every reason to be happy and that made it exponentially harder to admit that I wasn't. But telling myself that I CAN'T solve this problem on my own and finally opening up about it was one of the most freeing and liberating things I have ever done. Finally admitting that I need help has started me on the path the true healing and happiness. So if you are trying to tell yourself that you CAN, but your truly feel like you CAN'T, then get honest with yourself and get help. Open up to someone you trust and accept that it is OKAY to get help.

I wanted to give blog time to my depression and anxiety because it is one of the biggest messi bits of my life and it will crop up in future blog posts as I navigate my journey to healing and happiness. Thank you so much for making it through this post and please reach out to me if you feel trapped in anxiety or depression. I would love to be someone that can help you on your journey to mental health healing.

As always, stay messi,

Jessi