We Are All Mad Here: My Mental Health Story

“The advice I’d give to somebody that’s silently struggling is, you don’t have to live that way. You don’t have to struggle in silence. You can be un-silent. You can live well with a mental health condition, as long as you open up to somebody about it, because it’s really important you share your experience with people so that you can get the help that you need.” — Demi Lovato

Hey there friends! I know that I am not the only one who struggles with mental health, but I also know that many people have difficulties sharing their own mental battles with others. I try my hardest to be helpful and informative when it comes to mental health because there is still such a stigma on it and many people can’t seem to explain how they feel when they go through spells of depression, anxiety, and random mood changes. I’d like to help shed some light on that, as I know firsthand what it’s like to be in pain like this and give my own experiences with my struggles with mental health.

The following paragraphs are a mixture of a story and a description of how it feels to have a mental disability, but the feeling of the disability won’t make sense without the story, so I hope you see this through to the end.

I’d like to start by saying something that we, as the ones struggling, hear far too often, but the truth remains: if you are struggling with a mental disorder, you are not alone. I know how it feels, though. It’s so hard not to feel alone when those surrounding you don’t quite understand. What I can say with confidence about that however, is that the ones who are trying, who take the time to hold you and tell you that they’re there, even if they don’t get it, those are the ones that love and care for you. Even if it’s hard to remember when your brain chemistry is turning on you, it remains true.

Living with a mental disorder is the most difficult thing I have ever had to do. I was 22 when I had my first panic attack. I was walking into the grocery store when it started to come on. I immediately left the grocery store and went to my dad’s house, where I begged him to take me to the hospital because I just knew I was dying. He didn’t, always believing I was being dramatic (I do struggle with hypochondria).

If you struggle with a panic disorder, you will understand the difference in a panic attack and an anxiety attack. A panic attack feels like your body is shutting down. Your heart beats rapidly, as though every ounce of adrenaline has been released in a single second and it is coursing through your veins. Your heart may skip beats. You feel as though your chest may implode and you are suddenly so hot that you’re sweating, but so cold that you’re shivering. You can’t do anything; you can’t walk, talk, or even move. The worst part? Knowing that you’re having an attack and not being able to stop it because your body feels like it’s shutting down and your brain can’t help but panic and make it worse.

I have found a way to live with these attacks though, with the help of a therapist and my primary care physician. Thankfully, I have been medicated for panic attacks for years, but that does not prevent them all together. It can put a slow stop to one, but I will have to feel it coming on in order to stop it before it really gets started. For me, the telltale sign that a panic attack is coming on is my left hand seizing up; it starts to close on its own and I can’t control it or pull it apart without forcing it to do so. Having a panic disorder is one of the scariest and loneliest things I have ever dealt with and it leaves me feeling drained, desperate, and with little motivation to do anything other than cry. Panic attacks are not pretty and they are not fun; they are extremely terrifying and nearly excruciating to live with.

I wasn’t diagnosed with depression until my mid-20s. Before that, I thought there was something wrong with me, something that could not be helped by simply waking up and living. I felt tired, all the sudden. I cried alone for no reason other than the fact that my body had aching sobs that needed to be let loose. I didn’t want to be outside in the sun because it hurt my eyes. My head was so foggy that I felt like I was dreaming when I was very much awake. I couldn’t help but despise everything about my own circumstance. It wasn’t until my mid-20s, when I finally went to a therapist, that I was diagnosed with clinical depression, stemming from my childhood trauma.

After I had this knowledge, I tried to tell my family. Well, I DID tell my family, but they are from the generation that deals with things. They didn’t believe in medication for mental health, especially if that medication might make it worse. I understand that, now, but then, it made me angry.

I started taking antidepressants the summer of 2019. The first pill that I tried made me feel worthless, like nothing I did mattered. In other words, it heightened my depression and made me not want to exist anymore. After realizing this, I stopped taking those immediately and went back to my doctor. The second antidepressant I tried…did nothing. I still spent days in my room, not wanting to see or do anything and wanting nothing more than to sleep. The third one that I took opened my eyes. It didn’t make me into a unicorn with rainbows floating about, but it didn’t make me want to sleep all day, and I was happy about that. I took these pills for a whole year, and when I missed one, my roommate could tell because on days that I missed one…I cried all day and looked and felt like a zombie and a shell of a human, which made me realize that I was dependent on these pills to get through day-to-day life. I didn’t like that, it scared me, but I kept taking them until the next summer, when I started feeling down again, like nothing mattered.

It was then that my doctor suggested that I had seasonal depression and upped my dosage to two pills per day in the summer. I did this for a bit, but after a while I began to feel weak and powerless in my own body because I was depending on a pill to live my life. And that is something that every human is fundamentally programmed to be able to do, right? Why was I having such an issue with this? Well friends, it’s because my brain chemistry is not balanced as it should be. I’m not normal. Something is wrong. But that is okay.

I stopped taking my pills in August of 2020 because, as much as others despised what was happening in the world, I had flourished. I was able to take all that time off for the first time since I was 14 years old, and it did wonders for me and my mental health. I was able to go outside whenever I wanted. I played with the dogs all day. I started reading books again. I started writing more on my blog and in my journals and I focused hard on my physical health as well. I felt SO good!

But, with my improvement, came the day that I had to go back to work. I found a job at a restaurant with an all-girl staff, and I actually didn’t hate it. I forced myself to be positive when I walked in the door, every day, because I knew that if I didn’t, I would hate it there. I worked there until the first of February 2021, when I quit because the general manager kept making snide comments about my weight (I weigh 145 lbs. and am 5ft 7in, that is a normal weight for my height) and it finally got to the point where he told me that I “gained weight” and could no longer wear the uniform. This took a huge toll on all the work I had done on myself. He took my self-love and turned it back into self-loathing. But…that is easy to do when you already struggle with mental health. That day, all the work that I had done on myself was gone and I have not been able to find it since.

I have struggled so much in the recent weeks with feeling low and my mind can’t help but go back to what my doctor told me: I have seasonal depression. Seasonal depression is exactly what it sounds like; depression caused by a change in season and starts and stops at approximately the same time, every year. I have struggled with feeling this way during my adult life, every summer that I can remember. I don’t recall if I felt it during my school days, but as an adult, I have always felt this. Except for last year, when I was free to live the way humans should live. I have struggled hard this year with considering turning back to medication. My panic attacks have taken a toll on my body; they have become more frequent. My seasonal depression has expanded out to the beginning of May, instead of starting in July. And I know that this happens to so many others.

But then I have a good day and I think to myself, “Okay, you can keep this up, you can keep this going. Wake up like this tomorrow.” And I can. And I have. But sometimes, it’s not that easy.

And that is okay.

What I have noticed about myself is that physical movement and eating right really does help my mental health as well. I have started doing yoga at least two times per week. I’ve started working out, even if it’s in my living room, 3 times per week, and I have done my best to eat as clean as I can (when I’m not having a bad day).

For those of you who struggle with mental health, I would love to hear your stories. I’d also like to encourage you to get physically active. I don’t do it every day, but on the days that I feel like I can (and sometimes force myself to), I can feel the endorphins and I know they help my mental health, in addition to my physical health.

I know this is a sudden ending to a very difficult topic, but I don’t know what else to say except for, I feel you, I see you, and I am here for you.

All the love, from your fave,

X — Your Welch

Story from my website yourwelch.com