Holding So Many Pieces

*I originally wrote this post about my experience with mental illness in November of 2017. I wrote it all out and then couldn't publish it. I hadn't written anything on my blog in over six months at that point, and after writing this and not posting it, I stopped writing for almost two years. When I wrote this I thought I had walked through the hardest part. I had been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, and in my own thoughts had honestly had a complete breakdown. Maybe though it was just the beginning of mental illness. Here's what I wrote, and I believe is the first step for me to begin writing again, to post what I was afraid I couldn't.*



A couple weeks ago I moved one of the house plants to my bedside. I had thought the plant was beautiful when I first bought it, but it never grew like its sister plant I bought the same day. I was even shopping at the store I bought it from not long ago and saw a girl trying to return a dead version of it. So, I knew that this plant was going to require a bit more attention than the others. Maybe it was going through something. I figured my bedside was a good new home; the plant could hear my voice at night and in the morning, maybe we'd share dreams occasionally. If that sounds too earthy and bohemian, then maybe the extra sunlight from my large bedroom windows would be enough. That and the fact that two year old Foster loves to water the plants in my room. They all sit on a table low enough that he can reach them with the spray bottle. After a few weeks of giving this plant a bit of extra attention, today I saw new growth. Those delicate baby leaves, fragile but filled with hope. I like plants because I can pretty quickly see if I'm doing something wrong. Unlike humans, plants tell me pretty quickly if I'm doing a good job.

So I guess this one baby leaf gave me the hope of enough words to write publicly again. Maybe it has little to do with hope and more to do with inspiration. And the fact that we have internet again. I stopped writing online mostly because we stopped paying for internet for a few months. Thank you Google Fiber for your more affordable rates. So, thanks to baby leaves and Google Fiber, I'm back.

It has a been a bit surreal, having a nervous breakdown. I would say Wikipedia has a pretty good definition of the last five to six months of my life.

"A mental breakdown (also known as a nervous breakdown) is an acute, time-limited mental disorder that manifests primarily as severe stress-induced depression, anxiety, or dissociation in a previously functional individual, to the extent that they are no longer able to function on a day-to-day basis until the disorder is resolved. A nervous breakdown is defined by its temporary nature, and often closely tied to psychological burnout, severe overwork, sleep deprivation, and similar stressors, which may combine to temporarily overwhelm an individual with otherwise sound mental functions."

Its weird that Wikipedia could know my life so closely. And I'm not being dramatic. I sort of wish I was. I have had some well meaning people tell me or text me things like, "Some people take medicine, but I believe what you are dealing with is a spirit of fear" and "Yeah, there are lots of medications but ultimately you have to give it to God." Oh Lord, I think I may have a demon of anger or annoyance over fear. I don't mind people bringing God into life situations. Because I think God cares a lot about my life. But I don't appreciate God talk as the triumphant answer over medication. Almost exactly a year ago I asked a guest Priest at a retreat to heal me of depression and anxiety. And I think maybe God is healing me, with 60mg of Prozac a day. 

I guess thats kind of a high dose. Like my insurance needs prior authorization and won't cover three 20mg pills a day. But you know, I think I'm over the shame. Because there's no fucking shame when a person takes Amoxicilin. Why does an imbalance in the brain, temporarally or permanently, make people so nervous? Why does it suddenly involve spirits or demons and science cannot be the answer? I am not sure, maybe too many people have used antidepressants as a silver bullet. And I have learned and am walking a path that I understand its not the complete answer to all of my problems. But so far a higher dose has given me the ability to start learning how to manage and control my own emotions better. Learning how to walk through those lows that I have written about it the past. My medication is also helping control my anxiety enough so I can function. I don't owe it to the internet to explain all of what has happened, but make no mistake, the definition above saying, "unable to function on a day-to-day basis" was true for me. Andrew had a period of time where he didn't work for almost two weeks? I barely remember those days. 

I don't know why I'm sharing what I am. I got online to write about something and pictured it being symbolic or metaphorical but all I am doing is processing. Maybe I have to begin to claim it as my own story to heal myself. Maybe if I admit that I was that houseplant, barely hanging on, needing so much more sun and water and love then I was allowing myself to receive. Andrew and I saw the movie "Lady Bird" last night. Not about the First Lady, but a coming of age story that I loved. In the movie a nun is talking with the main character. She states that giving attention to something is basically loving that thing. Undivided attention shows love doesn't it? I thought of Andrew and the many times he has helped me plan my coming days hour by hour. Putting my pills in the right box each week. Knowing what I need before I need it, attention and love.

So, maybe thats where I am. I wrote the title before I wrote this post. Which is maybe backwards. But I just have this picture of something beautiful and important breaking, and that at first I didn't even know where all the pieces were. And maybe I still don't have all the pieces, but I am holding a lot of them in my hands. I am still not sure what I was before I broke or what exactly I will be once I put all these pieces back together. But slowly, piece by piece and color by color, I am starting to remember.