F34.1 Persistent depressive disorder, with intermittent major depressive episodes, with current episode. Childhood. Chronic.
Depression is nothing new to me, but something about having this read out loud to me by my psychologist was equal parts affirming, upsetting, and grounding. I realize that in spite of how long I've been working on wellness and constant improvement that I carry around a lot of internalized mental health stigma and shame. That others have it way worse and I don't have a right to flounder. Often I don't give myself credit for how far I've come and the emotional weight I consistently carry. My struggle more recently has been walking the line of radical acceptance (vs tearing oneself to shreds) whilst practicing self-accountability and progress. A diagnosis isn't everything, but it certainly gives one a jumping off point and better understanding of possible ways to battle that which ails you.
I'm very fortunate to have access to continuous health care (though I was on a waiting list for a year and a half for this provider); to have found an irreplaceable support group that has served as a family and has helped me regain a sense of leadership and value; to have wonderful family and friends; and to be in a work place that allows me to fit in and serve as I can. I'm very lucky, I know this. And yet, there remains a struggle in learning to live well with a mental health (which IS health, btw) diagnosis and the realities of what that looks like, even a decade plus out of consciously and actively dealing with it. This is compounded by general anxiety, persistent migraines, and sleep apnea. I've known highs and low lows, I've known suicidal thoughts and extreme hopelessness, I've known light and love and coming back to myself and rediscovering hope and a desire to remain in this plane of existence. To be alive. Is to struggle, is to love, is to question, is to find support and validation and comfort however we can. I'm truly grateful for the days that feel easier and more carefree, which are comparatively often few and far in between- those days give me insight into what it might be like to live without a continuous presence of heavy emotions and buried pains and challenges of basic existence many never have to reconcile with or question. These struggles have brought me to grit and resilience, to perspective and consideration, to empathy and kindness, and for that it's hard to feel much regret or anger these days. And yet, it's heavy. As is life. I hope that whatever your individual struggles are that you find a loving home, emotionally and physically. That you find comfort and resolve and hope. At least in our struggles, we're together in that, too. I see you, dear friend, I see you. Until the next time we meet again, wellness and very best wishes to you for getting through this life. One moment and struggle and breath at a time. And at least in this moment I can give myself a pat on the back, a tight hug, and acknowledgement that I'm alive and kicking. You're doing it, Alex. You're doing it. And what you're doing is quite alright. Just keep swimming.
I'm very fortunate to have access to continuous health care (though I was on a waiting list for a year and a half for this provider); to have found an irreplaceable support group that has served as a family and has helped me regain a sense of leadership and value; to have wonderful family and friends; and to be in a work place that allows me to fit in and serve as I can. I'm very lucky, I know this. And yet, there remains a struggle in learning to live well with a mental health (which IS health, btw) diagnosis and the realities of what that looks like, even a decade plus out of consciously and actively dealing with it. This is compounded by general anxiety, persistent migraines, and sleep apnea. I've known highs and low lows, I've known suicidal thoughts and extreme hopelessness, I've known light and love and coming back to myself and rediscovering hope and a desire to remain in this plane of existence. To be alive. Is to struggle, is to love, is to question, is to find support and validation and comfort however we can. I'm truly grateful for the days that feel easier and more carefree, which are comparatively often few and far in between- those days give me insight into what it might be like to live without a continuous presence of heavy emotions and buried pains and challenges of basic existence many never have to reconcile with or question. These struggles have brought me to grit and resilience, to perspective and consideration, to empathy and kindness, and for that it's hard to feel much regret or anger these days. And yet, it's heavy. As is life. I hope that whatever your individual struggles are that you find a loving home, emotionally and physically. That you find comfort and resolve and hope. At least in our struggles, we're together in that, too. I see you, dear friend, I see you. Until the next time we meet again, wellness and very best wishes to you for getting through this life. One moment and struggle and breath at a time. And at least in this moment I can give myself a pat on the back, a tight hug, and acknowledgement that I'm alive and kicking. You're doing it, Alex. You're doing it. And what you're doing is quite alright. Just keep swimming.
