Tuesday, November 15, 2011


Hi, I'm Star. And since June, I have been battling depression and anxiety.

This is kind of a big deal for me to write. I don't like admitting negatives about myself. I don't like seeking help. I am independent to a fault. And I certainly don't like admitting that something was wrong with me. I hold my own shit down. I'm tough like that.

Except when I'm not.

Depression and anxiety are dark and dismal things that I have fought before. For a very, very long time I was victorious in removing them from my life. And then I no longer was.

This is the first instance of this variety where I thought I would truly need medication to fix myself. I didn't wind up getting on anything, but I quite frankly should have. I was in a very dangerous place for way too long. Pride didn't prevent me from seeking qualified help, but lack of money did. Instead of medication I drank too much and ate too much crap and behaved stupidly and loathed myself. I wouldn't advise it - I imagine Prozac is much nicer.

There were days where everything was all wrong and I was unable to find joy in a single thing that I saw. These were the worst. Not even my children could make me happy. Getting out of bed was a struggle. Existence seemed so wearying. There were days where I could function for normally for hours and then be brought to my figurative knees with crushing waves of sadness for everything and everyone on Earth. I spent two hours one night crying over global warming, and while I do love the Earth, that was completely and totally abnormal. For a month straight I cried myself to sleep nightly. Please understand that there was nothing that occurred in my life that was so incredibly, incurably traumatic that any of this was necessary. Although I went through some rough patches this year, these are not normally things that would have done this to me. Other episodes of depression happened at much more logical times, so it all still confuses me. I want to find logical reasons for feeling this way, and yet there really weren't any.

I believe that I am through the worst now. I am not saying I never get moments of anxiousness or unexpected sadness, but I can feel normal things now too. I find beauty in life again, and I can face problems without feeling like they're all insurmountable and wretched. I am no longer faking it when I act like I am tough and confident - I actually feel tough and confident again. I had a few friends who went above and beyond to throw life rafts to my sinking ship, and I thank them more than they can imagine. Although I did not contemplate suicide during this, I still feel as though you saved my life by reminding me that I am important and valuable even when I am a wreck. Thanks for listening through the incoherent crying and trying to discern what the fuck was wrong with me. Thanks for reminding me that it all gets better.

If you are suffering with depression, temporary, long term, whatever, please know that it does get better. And the world is a more wonderful place with you in it, even if you don't realize it right now. And if you have the chance, take the damn drugs. You're not a hero for getting through it without them.