A few years ago, I finally had the courage to tell my doctor (at the end of my appointment that day) that I was not okay.
"I'm not okay." I said.
She put her laptop and clipboard away, sat down across from me, and said "Let's talk about that."
After meeting with her and a clinical psychologist, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder, panic disorder, major depressive disorder, and PTSD. Yes, I know that sounds like a lot, and many people who don't fully understand mental illness will say "What, you just magically came down with all four overnight?" No, I did not. Those four disorders, along with others I don't deal with (like bipolar-1, borderline personality disorder, and OCD to name a few) can come on suddenly, or one can develop because of one of the others. A person's PTSD can initiate the anxiety disorder, which leads to depression, or they can happen in the reverse order, or in any order. The brain is such a complex thing, and we don't fully understand how these disorders develop, or how they progress. So finding a magic cure is almost impossible.
Because of that, though, and because the things affected are mental and not simply physical, these disorders are often marginalized by people who don't have them, either because they don't want to take the time to educate themselves, or because they feel the person's mental illness is something everyone deals with to a degree, and they should just "suck it up".
Example, these are attitudes I have personally experienced toward my mental illness:
"You have anxiety disorder? I get that. I get anxious too. Just count to five and breathe. It'll pass."
"You have depression? Well, I think we all get sad from time to time. You just need to count your blessings."
"Panic disorder? You don't have to be scared. Have you tried meditation?"
"You have PTSD? Where were you deployed? Was it Iraq? Oh, you aren't military? Then how do you have PTSD?"
(I'm not kidding. This is what I have had people say to me about each one.)
So let's talk about where my issues began and how they progressed. Yes, I'm opening my backpack and dumping it all over the table. If you are a "TLDR" kind of person, you may want to just close this window and go back to scrolling your feed. I won't be offended.
Many people who deal with clinical depression remember a time when they were "okay". We can think back to before depression took over, and maybe even pinpoint a time or event that triggered it. Maybe it was the death of a loved one, an injury or illness, or some form of physical or emotional abuse. Regardless, we are fairly certain that before that time or event, we were okay. We may have had bad days, like everyone does, but we were mentally and emotionally healthy.
Then the thing happened. And everything went to shit.
In my case, the triggering event was a trip overseas. I won't go into all the details, because they are personal, but in short, some words I said were misunderstood by a few people there because of language barriers and cultural differences, and the resulting snowball effect put me in forced "time out" (for my own safety) until I could return home. This place was a place I had poured my heart and soul into over the years, and had fallen in love with so many people there. This event severed most of those ties in one snip. I can never go back, because I don't know who I can trust outside of a tiny handful of people, and I can't ask them to babysit me. People on the outside of this might read this and think "You're still hung up on that? That was years ago! Move on!" but that was the beginning of my anxiety, depression, and PTSD. Try telling someone with (what you see as) a true case of PTSD that they should just "Move on." It's the same concept. Full offense. It's the same.
When I got back from that trip, I returned to find out some petty, ignorant rumors had been started about me at church by a very gossipy and ignorant deacon. I had to clean that mess up, confronting him, and having him yell at me that "He was only repeating what he had been told." Because of his actions, many people began to stop trusting me at church. A few weeks later, another incident took place there that resulted in us leaving that church permanently. The ministry I had fostered at that church for over a decade was also gone with one snip. This further advanced my depression, but like most men are told to do in life, I put up a wall and put on my boots and walked through it.
Then, a bright spot happened. I got a job that was so good for me. It helped my depression in ways I cannot even begin to explain. It was at a bookstore. My boss was amazing. My coworkers were amazing. The work environment was amazing. I felt like I had been given a new start and this place was the beginning of that. I found such joy in helping people love books and nerdy media items like I did. It was pure bliss. Sometimes I would go back in the back room and mist up because of how happy I was to work there. I knew I was going to work there forever.
Then, we had a management change. The new boss was a complete tyrant. She had zero empathy, zero people skills, a hateful attitude, and she didn't give a shit what anyone thought about how she rain things. People started crying on their break, or just plain walking out. My little place of zen was now a place of sadness. I politely and professionally voiced my concern over this to her, and rather than listening, she cut my hours. After being reduced to 5 hours a week, I gave up and put in my notice. Her response to this was to put a mark on my record with the company saying I had been a difficult employee, and that I should not be considered for rehire, ever. A few weeks later, she was fired, but the mark she put there was permanent, and in spite of my petitioning for being hired back, I was told I would not be considered because of the record she entered. So, my job I loved is gone, and I lost it by defending the company as a place to work that should foster happiness.
Whenever I go back to that store, I am struck with such a wave of emotional loss; almost like walking into the room of someone who died that you loved so much, and seeing all their things there just as you remember them, but they are gone, and you can't ever get them back.
So, to recap, I lost a city I loved with all my heart, a ministry I loved with all my heart, and a job I loved with all my heart.
"Big deal." some might say. "I lost my wife/child/mother/etc." But that's the thing, mental illness prevents you from healthily healing from those losses.
But this is already running very long, and I can't imagine why anyone would want to read my ramblings, so I'm going to call this "Part One" and stop here. In my next post, I'll tell you what it's like living with this from day to day. (Bet you are looking forward to that!) Some of it is amusing, some of it is heartbreaking, and some of it is just plain weird.
But I promise, it gets better. It really does.
Buckle up.
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