I know everyone’s algorithms are different on the various social media platforms. But for a while, my algorithms loved, and I mean LOVED to post photos and reels with something along the lines of “I’m going on a stupid walk for my stupid mental health.” They were probably some of my favorite things to look at because I could relate. I can’t even tell you how many times those exact same words have come out of my mouth. “I’m going on a stupid walk in this stupid heat for my stupid mental health because my stupid therapist told me I had to.” My therapist isn’t actually stupid, but when you don’t want to do something and have a bad attitude about it, everything and everyone is stupid. Thankfully, I’ve reached the point in my mental health journey where I no longer thing of the walk or mental health as stupid and I do it because I want to and not because my therapist said I had to. Growth, right?
If you’ve followed along on my blogging adventure, you know I don’t necessarily shy away from hard or uncomfortable topics. I try to be relatively transparent and authentic when I write especially when it comes to things like mental health and grief. I feel like I’ve struggled with depression for so long that I don’t even remember what I was like pre-depression. Have I always had depression and didn’t realize it? Am I an Eeyore type person? One of my biggest prayers the last few years has been the Lord would use my story to encourage and give hope to others going down a similar path to mine.
November 2021 was when I started to become well acquainted with the word depression. I was living in North Carolina, teaching math, and trying to grieve my brother who had passed 3 months earlier. I was telling a friend back home what a hard time I was having. I went into great detail. Not eating. Not sleeping, but always in the bed on trying to sleep on my couch. Self harm was even on the table at one point. In my mind, if I hurt myself, that pain would make sense unlike whatever it was I was feeling or not feeling. My friend’s response was simple, “I wondered when the depression would set in”. I disagreed with her. I did not have depression. Only crazy people suffer from mental illness, right? (Don’t we love the stigma around mental health that so many of us grew up believing?) And I was confident that I wasn’t crazy.
Curiosity got the best of me, and I began googling depression. I wanted to know the definition from a legitimate source. I wanted to see what the symptoms were for myself. Because again, I was in complete denial that I could possibly have depression. My search popped up an option to take a PHQ-9 assessment which is used to evaluate those of us with depression. It goes from a score of 0 to a score of 27. Like golf, the lower the score the better. There was a disclaimer saying this assessment doesn’t diagnose you, but it can help you decide whether or not you need to seek assistance for your mental health.
I naturally took the assessment. It was there so why not? My score was somewhere around 19-20. According to the scale, I found myself in the range of moderately severe depression or severe depression. If I’m honest, I’m sure I lied on one or two of the questions because I realized what kind of shape I was in and didn’t want to admit it. If you ever find yourself taking the assessment, I’d recommend not lying. The goal is to get help, and if you aren’t honest, that will be hard to get.
I began looking into therapy. What would that cost? What was therapy? Would it actually help me? Finally in June of the next year, I began my journey in therapy. Two months later, I began my journey with antidepressants. If I thought I was crazy for having depression, having to take medication to help get it under control was a HARD pill to swallow. I was almost ashamed or embarrassed that not only did I need to go to therapy, but I also had to take medication. It was a rough time in my head for me.
Fast Forward to March of 23, I get to go overseas. I took my Prozac and went to tell people about the hope I have because of my relationship with Jesus. I think a part of me believed that when I got overseas the depression would leave and thus I would no longer need Prozac. I was in fact wrong. The depression didn’t go away AND I got to up my daily dose of Prozac.
When I came back to the states last spring, my goal was to get off of Prozac. I felt like it was a real possibility- hindsight I’m not sure why because depression was still kicking my butt. July of 24, my goal was achieved, I got off of Prozac. I have since replaced it with 4 other medications to balance out the depression, anxiety, and adhd which I apparently have. BUT I’m going to look at the bright side, I got off Prozac.
When you get to do fun things like see someone to prescribe you the medications I take, you get well acquainted with the PHQ-9 assessment. I have to take it before every appointment with my medicine provider. The lowest scores over the last 3 years have still kept me in that moderate depression range. I occasionally will have a score that puts me back in that moderately severe range. The spike back into the moderately severe range always seems to happen around holidays, special days relating to my brother, and processing the hard things in life related to mental health, grief and boundaries.
The last few weeks have been tough mentally and emotionally. Lots of tears. Lots of frustration. Lots of will this ever end type questions. In the past, when I have had those kind of weeks, I would heavily struggle with depression. Not sleeping. Not eating. Not having the will to do the basic things necessary to survive.
Monday of this week I realized the last few weeks haven’t caused a relapse in depression. They were hard weeks for sure, but there wasn’t that depressive episode I often find myself in. I have still be doing all the things (okay, most of the things) to function and survive. I’m not isolating and staying in my bed whenever at home. Because this is just the way I am, I found my way back to the PHQ-9 assessment previously mentioned. My score was a 6. The LOWEST it has ever been. If I go down two more points, the scale implies there is no or minimal depression present.
Was the score a fluke? Am I having an abnormally “chipper” few weeks and then the depression will come back with a vengeance in a few weeks? Maybe one day in the future I’ll have thoughts about how I can’t remember what it was like to be depressed and taking antidepressants. I don’t have the answer to those questions nor do I know what the future holds, but I’m thankful that the Lord is giving me a glimpse of what “normal” looks like again. I’m also thankful for His promises. No matter what happens with my mental, physical, or emotional health, He promises to stay the same and be with me through it all until He calls me home.
If you also struggle with depression and find yourself in a hard season riddled with a lot of down and depressed days, don’t give up hope. You are not a burden. You are loved. No person or their story is so far gone that the Lord can’t redeem it. If you are a believer, cling to truth and keep your eyes on Jesus. The Lord is always at work in all things in our life. Scripture promises what He does is for our good and His glory even when we don’t see the good in it. Keep doing all the things to help your mental health. You may think they are dumb or stupid or a waste of time (I’ve been there), but one day, you’ll see the value of all the those things. You and your mental health are worth it. Keep pressing on.
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Grief. Going. Healing. 
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