*** The face of Depression – it was difficult to write and share this story with the rest of the world. Enjoy the read!
“Breathe” …
“Breathe” …
“Breathe” …
“Just breathe, it’s okay. Everything will be okay, just keep breathing”
I glanced at my phone and the time said 2:33 AM
“It’s okay, it’s okay… keep breathing”
“Oh God, is there oxygen in here? I’m choking. There’s no air”.
I made it out of bed, eventually, opened the window only to find darkness piercing right through me. Gosh, there’s no air anywhere. I CAN’T BREATHE! Backing away from window, shaking, overwhelmed with this feeling. An emotion, I cannot control. My gut felt heavy and my heart rate beat faster than the drum in my head “I can’t breathe”.
Tears flowed down my high cheeks.
I wanted to scream, but I was gasping for air.
I wanted to yell, but I had no voice.
I wanted to run, but where?
Something was out to get me. An uncertainty, abominable to my imagination. I shut my eyes and fell on the carpet, rolled into a ball and sobbed, sobbed until my wet tears turned to dry tears. I, sometimes, wept until dusk or until I was whisked away by a sudden calmness and fell into what felt like a sleeplike death.
I would wake up with a strange feeling, a feeling that things were falling apart. A feeling that I wasn’t good enough. I used to force myself to get out of bed and pep talked myself until I was convinced that today would be better than yesterday. Sometimes, I just forced myself to get out and go to work, forced myself to smile and chat with my colleagues. Then, that nauseous, uneased and unsettled feeling would take over while at my desk and I had to learn to deal with it silently. I would leave for a short walk, whisked away to the bathroom and stayed there until I could control myself.
Something always told me to keep pushing through
I love my work. I love what I do. The social impact in the community is what drives me to continue to push through. I strove to make those around me comfortable and happy. I was able to help someone who was having a difficult time by providing the emotional and mental help that they needed.
I know what you’re thinking, how can she physically and mentally be there for someone else when everything is falling apart within her?
Here’s my story
I moved from New York to Republic of Macedonia in Eastern Europe to work in international development and youth development. Part of my work focused in elevating youth and promoting youth development without the community. I had to set great examples since my behaviors and actions were being judged throughout the community. I had to put on my best face on every day when, in reality, I was slowly dying inside.
The feelings I described earlier went on for months. I would be up shaking from nightmares and anxieties all at the same time.
I reached the point where I didn’t want to do anything except lying in bed. I would spend the entire weekend in bed and only wake up for food and bathroom. It’s gotten so bad that I would spend weekends stuck to my bed. My best friend would call and ask about my plans and my response always “I haven’t moved from my bed, I guess a lazy weekend”.
“will it be better if I was gone”
I knew what was happening, I knew where this was heading, but I was afraid to face it and ask for help. I started thinking whether or not my family and friends would miss me if I no longer exist. I thought about how long it would take someone to find my body since I live on my own. Then, I would get so scared thinking the way I was thinking, terrified because I wasn’t myself. I’m not well. I became afraid, afraid of being alive and dead.
One day, I woke up and I couldn’t move out of bed. I felt as though I was pinned down to the bed. I couldn’t move, I had no desire to move, I was succumbed by fear and the feeling was weighing me down. I was stuck in one position and cried until dusk. That’s when I knew that I was getting worse and I needed to do something about it.
I needed help
That same night, while going through the process of breathing, I texted my bestfriend who, at that time, moved to Ghana for international work. I told her about my nightmares and how it was keeping me up at night. I still couldn’t find the courage to tell her that I was dealing anxiety and depression. I still couldn’t tell her about my nightly episodes.
She asked “why are you having nightmares?” “what is triggering them”
“I don’t know” I replied
No fault to her, she said “there must be a reason, so meditate and go back to sleep.”
I wish it was that simple.
That very next day, I pushed myself to get to work. While I was at work, I received a text from my sister stating that my mother had fallen ill and that single text sent me over the edge. I rushed to the bathroom and broke down. I tried reaching my father but couldn’t get to him.
I called my soul sister, I was crying so hard that I couldn’t get a word out. She did exactly what I needed at that moment, she gave me her ears and listened. I was on that bathroom floor crying my soul out over the phone to her. She let me cry until I was able to get myself together and talk. I opened up and told her that I was struggling. We talked about my horrible break-up, my ovarian cysts, and now my mother’s illness. I held that bathroom occupied for almost an hour.
My colleagues knocked a few times, asked if I needed help, but I told them I was fine. When I came out of there, one of my colleagues walked up and just gave me a hug and didn’t let go for two minutes or so.
“I’m fine” I said
“I know” he said, “but I want to show you that I’m here for you. Matter of fact, we all are here for you. And thank you for all you do for us.”
A few days later, I designed a new development program for the organization and a part of the program focused on mental health. For a whole month, I facilitated workshop on Stress, Anxiety, Depression, and overall mental health care. The week leading to the start of the mental health workshops, I was a disarray myself. I called my friend and told to her that I don’t think I can talk to young people about mental health when, mentally, I’m falling apart. I thought about it for a while then I decided to cancel two weeks of workshops to focus on myself. I was on a quest to find mental peace and to heal myself. I couldn’t see myself convincing other young people who were having difficulties themselves to get help or share tools on how to cope with mental illness if I can’t take actions myself. That day on, I decided to face the woman in the mirror and took actions for a healthier version of me.
“I am a woman in progress, I will be healed”
I started to open up more to my friends about my struggles. I reached out to those who genuinely wanted to help and not judge my actions and behaviors. I made it my mission to get better. I found that being outdoor had a tremendous impact on my health (physically and psychologically). I felt better, I was smiling again, and I started to feel alive again. I took on hiking, other outdoor activities, and slowly started to find the light in me, feeling the energy around in and around of me. I started to focus on my physical health and used the gym to take out all my frustrations. My first week, I was crying during and after every run. On that treadmill, I thought about the dark season I’ve been on. I would be in tears but I never stopped. I was mad, angry, frustrated, and I took all out on the treadmill, the elliptical, the stationary bikes, the bars and the weights… the willingness to talk and be opened about my struggles somehow prepared me to face these moments.
I started cooking again, under ABOUT ME I talked about my health and how I was determined to improve it and not rely on conventional pills. Cooking gave me another reason to fight. It gave me a reason to smile, to find content in the smallest thing around me. It became my light in a dark gloomy day. There were days when I wanted to give up, but I would take a walk through the farmer’s market and somehow got lost in the wonderful rainbow colors of food. It felt good. So, I kept pushing. I used to be afraid of staying in the kitchen too long. Holding a knife was sometimes difficult for me due to a traumatic past experience. I would start sweating and shaking whenever I held a knife.
Some people just assumed that I didn’t know how to cook, but I would say there’s a difference between not “knowing how to” and not “wanting to”. I just didn’t feel comfortable and wasn’t ready yet to give any explanations.
The frequent trips to the farmer’s market became my therapy. I found happiness walking through, talking with the farmers, absorbing in all the gratitude and energy. I started building relationship with the farmers and they were so kind, incredible human being to ever walk this earth. They introduced me to new fruits and vegetables I was unfamiliar with and educated me on their health benefits, and suggested that I tried new things.
Their interests in wanting to know me and all about me, a woman who seemed lost, a foreigner who could barely speak their language, their patience was astonishing.
I loved it when they threw a few extra free veggies in my bag just because. I would get extremely happy to go back and tell them what I did or how I used their produce. When I was on the road for work for weeks’ time or even a month, they would embrace me when I get back. They would tell me how much they’ve missed seeing me around. It was incredible of how their warmth and friendliness sparked something deep within my soul. Their gentleness was the light I needed to fire-up my passion for food and being in the kitchen again birthed a whole new me.
Nowadays, you can find me jamming in the kitchen, concocting ingredients and experimenting with food. It’s my happy place, a place for peace of mind. It’s the only place I can cry of happiness. It became my therapy, my way to finding new hope to keep fighting. I’m happy to have been able to recognize the signs of my anxiety and depression early on. I guess minoring in psychology helped, right? I’m happy for my close friends and family for their supports and unconditional love through the tough period of my life. I’m happy to know that I am not alone and there’s a whole community of incredible people I can turn to for support.
I hope my story inspires someone who is battling or if you know someone who is battling anxiety, depression, or stress to not be afraid to get help. I know that it’s scary to open up to someone, it’s nerve wrecking to tell someone that “I need help”, but I guarantee you that once you reach out to someone you trust for a helping hand, whether medical professional help or a trusted friend or loved one, that will be the first step in defeating the darkness hovering over your life. So, don’t give in… fight because you should give yourself a second chance to happiness and you deserve it.
Remember that you are a powerful human being, an unstoppable, and a confident creature.
It was not easy writing and uploading this piece, but I know how hard it can be for someone out there who is trying to find some light. I hope my story inspired you to get the help you need, or to be a better friend to someone whom you know is having a hard time coping or dealing with anxiety and/or depression.
Always with love,
