I was living my dream when I realized something was wrong. I was in my early 20s and had spent weeks out on the road with Barbra Streisand running the publicity for her 2006 US tour.
This was by far the most exciting and stressful time of my young life. Barbra was my idol, and here I was with an all-access pass on and my whole future looking like a rose under the April snow.
It wasn’t until I returned home to New York that it really hit me. I had lost a ton of weight. Every small task seemed Herculean. I wasn’t eating and I constantly felt the heavy weight of homesickness, even though I was sleeping in my own bed.
One evening I got a phone call from my Aunt Betty (a well-respected Boston based social worker). She very wisely didn’t want to accuse me or try and analyze whatever was going on in my life, she just wanted to arm me with information so I could make an informed decision about my healthcare.
On that phone call, I was told about my family’s history with mental health issues, namely that of my paternal grandmother. She was an artistic and active gym teacher with a moon-shaped face and an unmatched style. She was beloved by her husband and family. She was diagnosed as “manic depressive” and given a litany of treatments, including an ugly course of early electroshock therapy. Her life ended suddenly before I was born.
My aunt didn’t tell me this history to frighten me. She told me this to explain that whatever forces I was dealing with weren’t unfamiliar to our family and that, thankfully, I lived in a time where treatment was a lot more advanced and effective.
This was the beginning of my journey with depression. Depression is a saucy little bitch. There isn’t a blood test or routine scan that can diagnose you and then a set course of treatment to cure you. Depression comes with stigma, shame, guilt and embarrassment. It also comes with a ton of work and expense to manage it.
In the workplace, depression can cripple even the brightest of employees. It can suck every bit of productivity out of you, making the simplest of tasks seem overwhelming and impossible.
Dealing with depression and other mental illnesses in life and at work is different for every person and this post is by no means meant to be a cure-all. It’s just to shed a little bit of light on what worked for me in the hopes that it may help someone else. Also, I’m writing this to take some stigma out of this disease. Depression and other mental illnesses are tough, but they are manageable with the right care. I have a wonderful, fulfilling and rewarding life and career, a great marriage and stupendous family and friends–all of which happens because I have sought the help I needed when I needed it.
So here’s what I did to make depression work for me.
- I recognized the problem. Realizing that something is wrong and seeking help is the biggest step of all. Seeking treatment isn’t simple either. There’s finding the right therapist and health care options for you. Know that while it seems overwhelming there are options. Talking to your general doctor is a great place to start. They can help guide you to a professional that’s willing to work on a sliding scale, based on your ability to pay. Even opening up to a family member you trust to help you find the right care is a great first step in the right direction.
- I took mental health days. Once I was diagnosed with depression and started a course of treatment that included talk therapy and medicine, I realized quickly that this wasn’t a common cold to be nursed away never to return. Having depression meant that I had a chronic but manageable disease. Part of my self-care was giving myself permission to take PTO mental health days and not feeling guilty about it.
- I was open and honest with those close to me. I found that talking to my friends opened up a whole world I didn’t know about. By telling them my experience, they felt comfortable sharing their own. I found that through opening up that I was met with a lot more empathy and shared experience than embarrassment and shame. I did not, however, feel it necessary to disclose anything to my employer. Health issues are yours alone. Read more from NAMI here.
- I resolved myself of burden or blame. I look at my depression as a medical thing that’s askew in my brain and something I must tend to (but not give over to) for the rest of my life. You wouldn’t say a diabetic person is weak because they take insulin. I don’t feel weak taking Lexapro. It’s what my brain needs to function correctly.
- I sought information. I find that hearing/reading of other successful people’s journey with mental illness makes me feel not so alone. Some of my favorites are The Hilarious World of Depression podcast (start with the Dick Cavett interview); This interview of Sarah Silverman by the great Terry Gross (it’s where I first heard the homesickness analogy I mention above. It stopped me in my tracks when I heard it. It was the perfect analogy of what I had felt my whole life.); “Pleading Insanity” (a beautiful memoir about a young man dealing with bipolar disorder); The Next to Normal soundtrack, the gorgeous Tony and Pulitzer-winning musical by Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey about a woman in the throes of mental illness.
So yes, interwebs. I’m here to say that I’m a hardworking LexaPRO. I hope that by sharing my journey, I can help someone else.