I’ve debated for two days
whether or not to post this blog post to social media for fear that it would embarrass
my family and friends, but I realized today that the more I read about other
people who are struggling in ways similar to myself, the stronger it makes me
feel. Mental health is so important. And for so many of us it means life or
death. I’ve struggled with Depression, Anxiety, ADHD, OCD and Borderline
Personality Disorder so badly that I was put on an antidepressant when I was nine
years old. For some of us, it’s a lifelong struggle. Not necessarily with the
diagnoses, but with doctors who are willing to prescribe you medications you
need, psychiatrists, therapists, and counselors who are sometimes not even
willing to treat you, insurance companies that only cover some medications (I’m
currently on a new medication that’s a Tier 4 for Blue Cross Blue Shield and
without the manufacture’s coupon, it’s over $400 a month that insurance won’t
cover), employers that are or aren’t willing to give you time away for doctor’s
or therapy visits and on top of the many logistical problems, the stigma.
Nobody asks to be this way,
I assure you. And it’s not always straightforward. I’m not depressed 24/7/365.
There are good days and there are bad days. And for someone like me, it’s a
Catch-22. In November of 2016, I posted a thing on Facebook about this, I had a
full on mental breakdown. My depression was out of control, I was starting to
isolate myself in very unhealthy ways and I decided to take some time off of
work and work with a new psychiatrist and therapist and I was put back on
medication for the first time in many years. I believe I went home from the
psychiatrist’s office that day with five prescriptions. For the next few weeks,
I lived off of saved vacation and sick leave time from my job, then when the
new year rolled around, I was granted six weeks of FMLA leave, unpaid. The
regional supervisor of my company (not my boss, my boss was the bomb diggity)
required me to present a doctor’s note upon returning to work stating that I
could perform my job better or with the same ability as I could before I took
leave. None of my doctors believed I was ready to return to work. I lost my
job.
I continued taking prescribed
medications and then for whatever reason, I felt like I had been on them long
enough, they weren’t making me any better and I wanted to stop taking them.
Without telling anyone, I stopped taking all my medications in November of
2017. On Christmas Day, 2017, depressed, suicidal and feeling like I had no way
out, I packed one bag, didn’t tell my parents where I was going, and I left. Where
I went isn’t important. Who I was with isn’t important. What’s important is
that I ended up in the fetal position in someone’s bathroom, unable to breathe,
and wanting to die. The depression consumed me. And the thing about my ADHD, is
it’s a combo ADD/ADHD. I absolutely have the hyperactivity component of ADHD,
except my “hyperactivity” is mental, not physical. Hyperfocus with ADHD can
sometimes be your lifesaver when you’ve procrastinated and you need to get
something done, but if your brain is only hyperfocused on the most awful
intrusive suicidal thoughts, you’d do anything to make them stop.
So I did drugs. Banging
Crystal Meth to be exact. Go big or go home, right? When you've tried all the right things and they don't work, you'll try anything. So here’s where I’m about
to get into some very unpopular opinions, but hang with me here. It saved my
life. I’ve never been a drug user, a drinker, socially, but with the exception
of the medications I was prescribed, it’s never been my thing. Imagine that.
But, laying in that floor, wanting nothing more than to die, I would have taken
anything to make it hurt less and what was available to me at the time was
Meth. You know you’ve read those articles where they take about if you give
Adderall to your kid, it’s the same as giving them Meth, ok… yeah, kinda. I’m
not a chemist and I can’t tell you all about chemical compounds, but it is
pretty close. I took Adderall for years, then switched to Vyvanse about six
years ago, which, to me, is 10 folds better than Adderall.
But moving on, just like
most drugs, Meth gives you all the feel goods. It floods your body with
Dopamine which is what makes you feel what I call “content.” I’m not going to
get all science-y here because I’m not qualified to discuss chemicals in your
brain. But this is my unpopular experience with Meth, it saved my life. I think
because Meth was so closely chemically related to medication I had been on for
most of my life, I felt like I was breathing for the first time in a long time.
I felt like this fog in my brain was gone. I felt like I could get up in the
morning and not be a zombie. I felt like I could think clearly for the first time
in almost two years. Yes, of course, there were downsides. I didn’t eat
properly, I stayed up for days at a time, went into debt, eventually got
arrested, spend a month in jail, and lost custody of my child.
So here’s the thing about
mental health that’s tricky. I’ve been back home since October after spending
27 days in a 90 day rehab facility where they didn’t think I needed to be on any
medication. Yeah, okay. So I came back home, got on new medication, starting
seeing a new therapist and sitting here today, I can feel myself getting worse.
I ate for the first time in two days yesterday. I showered for the first time
since Sunday last night. I feel stuck in that place again that a year ago I
felt so compelled to escape from. It’s terrifying. Nobody wants to let
themselves get back to that place. Especially if you are a self-aware person
and you realize it’s getting bad again. It’s exhausting to fight against
yourself every day. It feels like my body wants to get up and fight and my
brain is just like “nah, guh, not today.” It is a miserable battle to fight
against yourself because one of you will lose.
So I plead with you, if someone
you know or someone you love is struggling, not only with mental health issues,
but addiction of any kind, save your judgment, your snarky Facebook memes, and
harsh words for your therapist. Because if you’ve never endured the kind of
hell that makes you want to end your life, you have no place to judge how that
person chose to escape from it. Some of the kindest people I’ve ever met in my
life were/are addicts. They put a roof over my head when I didn’t have one. Fed
me when I was hungry and never asked for anything in return except to be kind
to those that are struggling. Not every addict is created equal. Not everyone
on Meth is outside vacuuming their lawn naked at 4:00 a.m. and planning on
stealing your shit.
Addiction and mental health,
more often than not, go hand and hand. Misdiagnosed, undiagnosed and untreated
mental health problems are such a huge underlying cause of addiction. I’ve seen
it first hand in myself and in others that I care about. So if you or a loved
one is struggling, they don’t need your judgment, they need your compassion and
love and company. I don’t have a car at the moment because I let my tag expire
and I’m not working so I don’t have $224 to get a freaking sticker (don’t get
me started), but the loneliness is excruciating here at my parents’ house. Y’all,
call your friends who are struggling, unless it’s me, you know better than to
call, you better text. Tell them you miss them. Instead of saying “hey, let’s
get up soon,” say “hey, I’m on the way to your house, you need anything, I’ll
be there in 20.” I know everybody is busy with their own lives, but take a
minute today to think about the people you care about who are having a hard
time and let them know you care.