*All* You Have To Do Is Smile
I’m finally getting around to posting a new blog. I can thank the snow plows that went by my house at 5:30 for what is now maybe one centimeter of snow. My area is in a Winter Weather Advisory until 6 pm for what is expected to be a grand accumulation of 1-2 inches. Having grown up in New York and then lived in Pennsylvania for ten years, this makes me laugh.
But aside from the trivialities of how they handle snow in the middle of Missouri–why haven’t I been posting? One of the things I value on my blog is honesty, so I will be upfront in saying that this episode of depression (I have Bipolar Disorder) took one drastic nosedive. My treatment team and I decided a stay in the hospital was necessary in order to be able to quickly do a complete med change and to get me back on track with the ECT sessions. Then I came home the next week and was overwhelmed with school and the end of the semester craziness.
It’s now January. The spring semester has started (I’m an adjunct professor at an area college). And the depression–still there. Still rearing it’s ugly head in a ferocious way most of the time. And I’m bringing this up because depression is often part of an eating disorder–and it’s also often part of the recovery process.
Here are some common ways that people have responded to me telling them I’ve felt depressed lately, both when it was related to the eating disorder and now, after I’ve been in recovery for some time:
“But you look happy.” “But you’re going to school (or work).” “But you were just at church last week.” “You need to get out and have some fun.” “All you need to do is push through this and it will all get better.” “I thought you were doing well with the eating disorder?” “Just keep trying.” “Keep your chin up.” “I don’t understand; you were doing so well.” “You should be happy that your doing better with the eating disorder.” “Well, at least you aren’t in the hospital.” “Haven’t you been praying?” “Everyone gets sad from time to time.” “Ugh, I know. Yesterday was a crappy day for me.”
Some of this is our fault (not the best word choice, I know). Some of this is society’s fault. Society in general would like to believe that things are fine and when things aren’t fine, it’s time to change to a new topic of conversation altogether. Some of these responses are because people who have depression quite often try to hide it from other people, for a wide range of reasons. For me–I grew up in a family that did not discuss emotions or feelings or moods, and I grew up with the idea that I’m not *supposed* to be depressed. I was an All Star athlete in all my sports, Salutatorian of my graduation class, drum major, a member of an area youth symphony, and a member of my church choir. And then I went to college, and the depression got worse and the eating disorder became a very serious issue. And I still didn’t talk about it. And with the eating disorder, almost all people who have an eating disorder learn to hide it. Hiding the depression came with the territory. And I also felt/feel guilty when I talk to my friends about how I’m feeling because I don’t want to burden them, and I don’t want to worry them.
I guess my point, which I seem to be taking the long way towards getting there, is that just because someone smiles does not automatically mean they are *fine*. People with mental illness very quickly learn to put up the brave front during the day–which may sound like a good thing. But the consequences of putting up the brave front are extreme exhaustion, frustration, loneliness, tears, sleeplessness or sleeping too much, isolation, and hopelessness. We learn that a lot of people brush off our comment that we feel depressed, and then learn not to trust anyone at all.
Depression is not “a bad day.” It is not the result of not praying hard enough. And seeing someone smile does not mean things are automatically fine. Depression is a very serious mental illness that can affect all areas of life from home life to school to work to social relationships to physical health. Depression is not something that you just “get over.” It doesn’t just “go away.” Fighting and pushing through it are two useful skills, but they will not cure depression.
People with depression need support and encouragement and a safe place to let their guards down. They need to be able to mention the word “depression” without people shutting down, running away, or changing the topic. They need to be encouraged to seek professional help. They need to know that people care for them, regardless of whether or not they are depressed.
I fully realize that being a friend or family member of someone with depression is taxing and tiring and frustrating, especially in the case of severe depression or long term depression. I recommend having your own support person and making sure that you take time for yourself to destress and unwind and relax.
I feel blessed and grateful and lucky for the people who have crossed my path and have been supportive since I began struggling with depression. I know I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my wonderful and downright amazing friends.
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And if anyone wants to ask me questions–http://www.formspring.me/AlexisKatchuk
History in Brief
I know many of you will have questions about me, my history, my recovery. While illness is not the focus of this blog, I want you to know where I am coming from.
Pinpointing the start of any eating disorder is often difficult. I’ve been an athlete since I was five. I discovered I could “escape” through running when I was in junior high, beginning a long history of exercise addiction and abuse. After I graduated from high school, I developed anorexia. I’ve been hospitalized multiple times, and in the beginning had no intention of getting better. But I explained things to a recent doctor this way: “I spent the first 30 years of my life not caring if I lived. Now I’m prepared to do anything to ensure I do.” That included giving up a twelve-year relationship with anorexia.
People will ask, “How sick were you?” which, in my opinion, is simply another way of asking, “How thin were you?” I will not answer any questions about size or weight. I was sicker than some, not as sick as others. I’m alive, though, and a lot of people who were not as “visibly sick” as I was, are not. If the one thing you take away from this page is that you don’t have to be thin to die from an eating disorder, I’ll be happy.
People ask, “Why did you get better?” At first, I did it because I didn’t want my nephew growing up visiting me in hospitals. When he was born, he took hold of my heart in a way I never expected. I carried around pictures of him to remind me to eat. Then, I did it for me. I did it for me because one day, someone asked me what I did for a living. And I answered, “I’m in a Master’s program.” But then I realized: I wasn’t in a Master’s program. I was in the hospital. For the second time since I had started that program. And even when I was in class, I wasn’t really in class. I was 2% student and 98% anorexic. And I realized I didn’t want to be known as “that girl,” or “the sick girl” anymore. I wanted to be known as a writer, a friend, an aunt, and a whole list of other things.
And I couldn’t do those other things until the anorexic part of me was gone.
"History in Brief" by wordle.net
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