I’ve struggled with depression my entire life and I’ve weathered bouts if it in each place I’ve moved abroad. Obviously struggling with your own mental fitness while you’re thousands of miles away from the comfort of home is not ideal, but I couldn’t just pop home and hug my mom or confide in a friend when I was feeling low, so I was basically forced to deal with it head-on.
This led to a lot of self-exploration and experimentation in what taking care of myself looks like. I’ve come to realize all the basics most of us already know, like how things like diet, exercise and meditation can be huge tide-shifters when it comes to maintaining my mood. Also, drinking isn’t the best for my head. Which is, sorta unfortunate. I love to drink. I love to be with friends and toast and cheers to someone’s achievement or celebrate a birthday.
Genuinely, there is nothing better than letting loose and being silly amongst friends. Now, I don’t drink excessively, in fact, I think I’m pretty reasonable about it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not above impromptu late nights and occasionally have a few too many, but not in any way where I turn into my 22-year-old self and blackout like I used to before I realized it’s not that great when you don’t remember your fun.
I sort of “discovered” meditation with a friend while living in Korea. I decided once my year contract was finished I would travel around Southeast Asia by myself for six weeks, I was hellbent on proving to myself that I was independent. Also, that I would do a 10-day silent mediation retreat. I knew I’d likely never find the time to do it again and I figured I had nothing to lose. There’s not much more I’m interested in than my own brain, so I thought this is my chance to dive in. (We don’t need to talk about the panic and terror that fell over me the day before I went in upon realizing I’d be ALONE WITH MY THOUGHTS for 10 full days.)
And honestly, it completely changed my perspective on things. However, despite my profound respect for the practice and enjoyment of the method, it was a lot of time to commit to daily and I eventually fell off the wagon.
Fast forward to some of my time in New Zealand and I knew I was really depressed for a solid period of time. The good days were great, camping in the summertime with friends was amazing, and the days of normal temperatures were fantastic. Hiking along some of the most epic beaches I’d ever seen and riding in cars through rolling green hills singing 90s chick music with some of my greatest girlfriends, are memories I’ll cherish forever. But, winters were long, cold, and wet. At least to me they seemed to last forever. Add to that the fact that my relationship was not serving me well and I didn’t want to reckon with it. We were living together at this point, and he was a good person and I was going to give it everything I could. Then I realized after giving so much that I had almost nothing left to spare of my own and had to walk away to salvage the small piece of myself I had left.
I moved home feeling broken and alone with zero career direction. I still don’t really have a career but that’s beside the point. I knew I needed to take care of my mental health, and while I enjoyed the first few weeks of being shiny and new to my old friends I eventually wasn’t new again anymore and it became painfully clear that my fragile mental state needed attention.
I started seeing my old therapist again, which was a good start. Eventually, I realized she didn’t help me in the way I needed and switched to someone new who has also been great. I’m left feeling empowered. Sure of my mental sanity…. not enduring my insanity.
I follow an old coworker on Instagram who talked at length about her positive experience with Lexapro, an anti-depressant medication. At first, I thought, wow that’s great, good for her, I admired her bravery in being so open about it, and honestly, I was a bit jealous! I wish a pill could make me that happy. But I thought that was not me. I’m not that depressed, and at least half of the time, I’m not… I think…
I’ve gotten to a point where I’ve tried everything. I’ve done yoga. I eat well. I exercise. I reach out to friends when I’m sad. I make plans. I cancel plans. I drink water. I meditate. Everyday. Sometimes twice. I have a great boyfriend, and I have the most wonderful friends. I even microdosed mushrooms. Nothings worked and I’m exhausted.
Finally, I came upon a girl’s Instagram who I used to work with at a restaurant about her mental health journey and her eventual remedy in Lexapro. I know I often don’t give myself the grace I deserve, so I broached the subject.
And here we are. My second day on Zoloft. After all these years, I’m so curious to see how this goes. From not only a personal standpoint but a psychology-student perspective as well. I’m not suicidal, and I don’t cry every day, but I fall into dark pits that are hard to climb out of. It’s probably hard to hard to see because I present so happy. And it’s not fake, I am genuinely happy to see friends; it’s when I’m alone that it’s hard. Sometimes it’s the mild forms of depression that are the most difficult to identify. So, here I am. I’m hopeful, and I’ll keep you posted.
Follow My Arrow 