Ascent Healing

I have felt that I should share this part of my story not for people to feel sorry for me, but to share that there is hope and if this is you too, you are not alone.

I think I’ve struggled with depression my entire life and I’m not sure if it was mainly a product of the childhood sexual abuse I endured along with the multitude of other abuses I went through or if I would have had depression anyway. Depression and anxiety can be genetic and it does run in my family, however, the abuse and toxicity was passed down too so it’s hard to know which came first. As I’ve said in other blog posts, I was an overachiever. I responded to the abuse and depression and other struggles by being a perfectionist. From fourth grade through 12th grade the lowest grade I ever received was a B+ once and one A- and the rest were all As and A+s. I don’t say this to brag, but to illustrate how far I fell from the depression once it caught up with me and I couldn’t do it anymore.

My childhood was full of traumas from abuse but even subtracting the abuse, there was enough trauma to cause anyone to have nightmares. My father, who traveled frequently for his job as a consultant to foreign countries, went missing many times and was nearly killed many times. I lost count of how many times I thought he was dead or I would never see him again. This was back in the time when there were no cell phones and contacting him while he was in China or South America or Africa to name a few, was just not possible and he would be gone for weeks or months.

When I was 16 years old, he was the first person to survive a helicopter crash in the Great Salt Lake in the state of Utah and there were people in that crash who did not survive. I survived a kidnapping attempt around the age of 8-9, and there were many other events and traumas that would be enough to cause anyone serious mental health issues aside from the abuse.

That being said, I was suicidal most of my high school years and into college. My parents were very much against any type of therapy so I received no help or treatment until I secretly began seeing a therapist in college without my parents knowledge. Once my therapist discovered how depressed I was, he referred me to a psychiatrist for medication and I started my first antidepressant at about 18-19 years old. I’m skipping over a lot of things that happened so I can write about my worst year which was my 3rd year of college. My mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer and the stress became more than I could bear anymore. I was living in Salt Lake City at the time in an apartment on the University of Utah campus and going to college. It was October and I ran out of my prescriptions before I could get in with my new psychiatrist and because of some mix ups at the pharmacy and my inability to advocate for myself, I went a week without any of the medications I was used to taking for anxiety and depression. I think I thought I could manage until my doctor appt a few days later but I was so suicidal from the withdrawals that I went into the waiting room of the therapy office at college and emotionally fell apart. I could not commit to safety so they had to hospitalize me at the University Neuropsychiatric Institute for a week until I was mostly stable on my medications again. I say mostly, because the suicidal thoughts did not stop for years and I was actively self harming to the point it had become an addiction.

I knew something was wrong with me, but I wasn’t aware that what happened in my childhood was called abuse yet, and I had hardly talked about it in therapy. I thought my life was mostly normal at that point and I was just broken. I went to church, tried to study, and wondered why I felt so awful all the time. I didn’t understand why God wasn’t taking the pain away. I thought I was unworthy and just not good enough. My self-esteem was in the toilet but all and all I hid it from others. I looked to be a pretty positive person. That year, despite my history of nearly perfect grades, I failed the entire year of college which at the time was 3 quarters instead of semesters. My grades were 1.2, or 1.5 when I was used to getting 4.0 or 3.995. I was put on probation at the college that if I didn’t turn this around, I would be kicked out of the university.

I slept all the time and couldn’t get out of bed. My room was a horrible mess with clothes and papers and garbage over every surface and floor. I didn’t care about hygiene, or eating or anything. At my worst point, I vomited for some reason I can’t remember all over my comforter and I was so depressed, I didn’t even wash it. I just rolled it up and stuffed it in my closet and forgot about it. My doctor didn’t know what to do but to keep increasing the dosage on my medications. I was having flashbacks and nightmares and panic attacks, etc…. And I felt my life was out of control and I was hiding it from everyone, even my boyfriend at the time did not know.

I share this embarrassing and vulnerable state of my life to show just how bad it was and that I understand how bad it can get. I couldn’t hide it forever. My dad came to help me clean out my apartment dorm at the end of the school year and he opened the closet and found the vomit covered comforter and not surprisingly, freaked out. I was humiliated. Despite the state of things, he just couldn’t comprehend the state of depression I was in or how bad things were. He thought he could get me to snap out of it. He was furious when he found out about my grades, especially, because he paid completely for that college year meaning my tuition, food, and rent. All wasted. He asked me if I even knew the skills to study. Of course I did. I was a 4.0 student taking multiple AP classes my senior year of high school. I graduated 8th in my student body class. That’s what depression does to you. It doesn’t matter your ability, history, spirituality, or anything else. When you are that depressed, nothing matters anymore.

But the hope I want to give you is that wasn’t the end of my story. If you are in your life where I used to be, this isn’t the end of your story either. It doesn’t have to have a tragic ending and suicide does not have to be how it ends even if it feels like it is inevitable. That’s how I felt mine would end at the time. It was just a matter of when.

I’m not going to say that since then my life has been sunshine, cupcakes and roses because it definitely hasn’t. I had a long journey to get to where I am today. I had to retake all those classes I failed, but I did it. I brought my 1.3 GPA back up to a 3.5 when I graduated with my Bachelor’s degree. I worked a graveyard shift for 8 years at Target and at one point, I was working that shift, had 2 kids, gave birth to my son, was working on my Master’s degree and held a high calling in my church all at the same time. Yeah, it was hell. But I did it. Never give up. Setbacks don’t have to be the end of your story either.

I work with a lot of clients who are embarrassed that they depend on medication. Don’t be. I used to feel that way too. But sometimes, our genetics work against us and it isn’t fair to expect us to do the same as other people who don’t have the same struggles. I admit, I still take several medications to stay stable and probably will the rest of my life and that’s okay. I still go to therapy to maintain my mental health, and that’s okay too. Don’t be afraid to get treatment. There are many different treatment options for depression now and many different medications. I have found that a combination of medication and therapy work for me. Spirituality is also a big part of my life and healing and a lot of my clients have found relief through some type of “higher power.” I definitely recommend finding what that higher power is for you.

Some things that helped me most in my healing journey is getting support from others. You can’t do this alone and you don’t have to. Don’t be afraid that you will be a burden. The right people will want to help you. Chose your friends from those who uplift and encourage you and not those who yell or criticize you. It’s okay to make boundaries with people who are toxic. I learned it’s okay to say no. You don’t have to please people all the time and self-care isn’t a luxury, it’s a necessity. Journal-Journal-Journal….. I once had a therapist tell me, “I’m not going to lecture you on this. I’ll just say that clients who journal, get better. Period. Lecture over.” I have found this to be true. Exercise. It really helps. Take your medications as prescribed and don’t skip doses. Seriously, avoid drugs and alcohol. They just make things worse. Eat even when you don’t feel like it. Force yourself to take a bath and don’t ignore your hygiene. If you need to ask for help to do these things, please do. Go outside. Get some sunshine. Go out with friends or family. When we are depressed, we want to withdraw from others and hide. We stop doing the things that made us happy. Another therapist told me that when we are feeling bad, think of the things you were doing when you felt better and incorporate those back into your life. Listen to uplifting music or make some yourself.

Most of all, never give up. Call a suicide hotline if you need to. There is hope. This feeling, like all feelings is temporary and will change. Don’t make a permanent decision based on a temporary state even if it feels like it will never change. Sometimes it takes time, but it will get better.