Struggling with My Illnesses

                 I am having a rough time.  I don’t feel well.  In the past not feeling well physically would not be a problem.  I would have just taken an over-the-counter remedy and moved on with my day.  Now, I can no longer do that.  My head, or rather my anxiety, won’t allow me that luxury.  Cancer changed my world in so many ways.  It has required me to relearn how to live.  I have learned to fight a terrible illness.  Cancer has made me more vulnerable both physically and mentally.  As a result, I have learned to accept help.  I now understand that my life has worth.  Those are just a few of the lessons I have learned on this journey.

                  What hasn’t changed is the control anxiety has over me.  The anxiety has increased in some ways.  The last several days my stomach has been upset and I have been somewhat nauseous.  I also have pain in my abdomen near my liver.  This is the same way I felt right before I was diagnosed with cancer.  So, of course my anxiety has latched onto that fact.  I know Dr. St, my oncologist, who I really do trust, has said the liver pain is not likely to be more tumors.  She examined me just last week.  My bloodwork is good.  She has explained all of this to me.  On an intellectual level, I believe her.  I can understand that she is right.  I know I have a pet scan coming up that will likely confirm what she has already told me.  Still, with every twinge of pain and every second of an upset stomach, my anxiety screams in my head.  It tells me the cancer is spreading.  

                  I find myself trying to believe my doctor. I know she is right, but still, I am anxious. I can reach out to my mental health team, to my oncology team, to my primary care provider and her nurse, to Aunt Holly, and to other family and friends.  The problem is none of them have had cancer.  As well-meaning as they are, they have never experienced what I am going through.  Part of me says that shouldn’t matter, but on some level that I don’t understand, it does matter.  Not only do I have cancer, but I also have depression and anxiety disorders.  Each of these three illnesses is difficult enough on its own.  Combined they are hell.  

The anxiety triggers the depression and vice versa.  Worrying about the cancer triggers both the depression and the anxiety.  Not feeling well physically is picked up by my mind, which jumps in and makes me feel worse.  I hate this. 

                  The nurse practitioner in my oncologist’s office called me last week.  She told me how to handle my upset stomach.  I am trying to follow her directions, but my mind wants immediate results.  That is not going to happen.  As I write this, my mind is questioning why the antacids I took ten minutes ago aren’t working.  Of course, I need to give them time.  I know that, but the anxiety that fills my mind tells me it is not going to work.  

                  The worst part is that I have not yet gone to bed.  That is when my mind loves to attack me.  As I lie in bed, I feel the pain over my liver.  My mind shrieks, “More tumors!”  Even though, Dr. St has assured me that is not the case, my mind’s argument is compelling.  I try to replay Dr. St’s words over and over in mind.  I focus my thoughts on hearing her voice.  Despite my efforts, I struggle.  

                  This is the part of being sick that doesn’t get as much attention.  The mind games. I know it happens to some degree for everyone who has cancer.  My depression and anxiety intensify everything.  I need constant reassurance, which makes me feel guilty.  I feel like I am reaching out for help too often.  I don’t know what else to do.  That reassurance is necessary for me.  I need a lot of reassurance.  It is something I cannot control.  I try to talk myself into being calmer.  I tell myself to focus on what Dr. St said.  It is a battle in my head that I can’t seem to win.

                  I am doing what I need to do to improve my depression and anxiety.  Every day I receive TMS treatment.  I believe it will help, but again, I need to be patient.  Every week I talk to Dr. Klein.  I talk to Stephanie weekly.  I have regular appointment with Dr. S.  My mental health is being addressed.  Depression and anxiety are powerful.  They overtake my mind making it harder to fight the cancer.  

                  I wish I could sit down with someone who has experienced what I am going through and just talk.  I attend an online support group for patients with stage 4 cancer.  It helps, but it is not enough for me at this point in my journey.  I am left with the question, “What can I do?”  Right now, I am not sure I know the answer to that question.  I’ll keep searching for the answer. I’ll try to keep reaching out to my mental health and physical health teams.  I know they are willing to help and that it is okay for me to reach out.  I need to remind myself of that.

Cindi, Dr. St’s nurse navigator understands what I am going through.  I find myself reaching out to her more often.  However, I can’t do that in the middle of the night when my anxiety is at its worst.  I struggle more at night, but the days are not easy.  

                  As for the physical ailments I am experiencing, I will follow the advice I was given.  I will eat soft foods when I can actually eat and take antacids and nausea meds.  For my mental health, I’ll keep going to TMS and trust my team to guide me through all of this.  I know that overall, I am doing fairly well.  It is never going to be easy, but I need to believe it can improve.

 

Still I Rise

            The great African-American writer/poet, Maya Angelou wrote a poem titled, “Still I Rise”.  I find inspiration in this poem.  Angelou shared how her confidence allowed her to overcome anything that was thrown at her.  She was a strong woman, but she was forced to overcome so much. Angelou proudly stood in the face of her trials, rising time and time again.  

            While struggling with illnesses is a different trial than Angelou faced, I feel like I find strength in her words. Depression and cancer are my trials.  I face them each day.  I must rise above them despite the difficulty.

            Angelou writes, 

 

“…Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise…”

 

            These words strike me.  When depression and cancer fill me with fear that I will not win the battle, I must rise.  I must fight.  It is through fighting that I can live.  It is not easy to rise when fighting illness, but I must have faith in my own strength. There is a video of Maya Angelou reciting her poem.  The certainty in her voice and the smile on her face serve as encouragement for me.  

            There is hope in Angelou’s poem.  I think as a person with depression and cancer, I can use this poem as motivation.  Maybe I should have it printed and framed as a reminder that I can do hard things.  I can fight my illnesses.  I can rise each day and live.  

            Depression and cancer have power, but I have strength within me.  I have been fighting depression since my early teens.  My battle with cancer has been seven months so far, but it has been intense.  I lean into Angelou’s words, “still I rise.”  Each day that I am here battling, I am winning.  I am living.  I am rising.

            Angelou is an inspiration.  I encourage you to read her poem and find strength in it.  The written word has power.  She captured a piece of human power in this poem.  By sharing her strength, she helps others to find their strength.  Whether you face illness or some other trial, “Still I Rise” provides hope.

If you would like to read the poem, here is a link: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46446/still-i-rise

 

            You can watch Maya Angelou recite her poem here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qviM_GnJbOM

Credit: "Still I Rise" by Maya Angelou

 

 

 

 

            

 

 

 

 

 

 

Focusing on the Big Picture

           As I travel the cancer and mental illness journey, I have discovered that often the big picture gets lost.  When different aspects of my illnesses demand my attention, I forget that I am still alive and functioning.  I don’t do this on purpose.  It just happens.

            My depression and anxiety have taken a downturn in recent weeks.  I am struggling.  I recognize that it is my mental illness.  The low mood and constant feelings of panic are not who I am.  They are manifestations of my mental illness.  I find myself withdrawing into myself.  I fight to get myself out of my house, even though I know I do better when I get myself to the Coffee Bean to write.  I try to talk back to the thoughts that tell me I can’t continue.  My response is weak, and I wonder if my mind even notices my words. 

            The anxiety that consumes me is obsessed with test results and every pain I feel.  It tells me the cancer is getting worse.  The anxiety tells me I am not going to survive.  I try not to listen, but its voice is so loud.  Anxiety tells me that when I don’t hear from my oncologist or my primary it is because the news is bad.  A nurse tells me that the results are okay, and I immediately wonder what that means and question it.  Anxiety sucks.  

            In my head the pain over my liver means the cancer has returned.  The rash on my abdomen must mean something is wrong.  The pain and discoloration on my nails must mean something is wrong.  My oncologist said two of these are nothing to worry about.  I haven’t asked her about the rash.  Despite her words, fear persists in my head.  I can’t make it stop.  

This is the battle that comes with having cancer and mental illness.  Each of these illnesses is difficult on their own.  Together the intensity of that difficulty is almost unbearable.   I struggle to remember that my last scans were good.  I question the bloodwork because I see one of the numbers increasing.  My primary’s nurse tells me one of the tests indicates perimenopause.  I don’t know what that means or what is next, but I hesitate to ask.  It leaves me with so many questions.  

I know I need to focus on the fact that my oncologist says I am doing well.  My mental health team says the TMS will start to work, and my depression will soon lift.  On one level I believe them.  On another level, I am scared as hell.  

In the big picture, I am alive.  Yes, I have many health concerns.  I need to receive treatments frequently.  I must take care of my health, take medications, and receive therapy.  But again, in the big picture, I am alive.  

None of this is easy.  Often, I want to ask questions of my health care team but can’t figure out how to formulate the questions.  Other times, I know what I want to ask, but I feel stupid asking.  I worry that I am wasting their time.  When I reach out to their nurses with questions or concerns, I worry that they are tired of hearing from me.  I know much of this stems from my mental illness.  It controls my thoughts.  Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier.  Every day is a battle.  

Talking to my mental health team helps.  Attending the cancer support group lets me know I am not alone. Friends and family help, but I don’t want to burden them. These are my illnesses to bear.  It’s the in between times that are so difficult to face alone.  I can see the big picture, but so much gets in the way.  I know I need to keep taking steps forward. Sometimes I don’t know how.  The big picture becomes blurry, and I need help refocusing. Living with illness colors my life.  I need reminders that in the big picture I am still here. I am not lying in a hospital bed or worse, in a coffin.  I have the ability to fight.  I have the support I need to battle my illnesses.  I need to remember that.  The big picture needs to be my focus.  

The Healing Power of Writing

            Recently, I was scrolling social media. A quote on Sandra Marinella’s (author of The Story You Need to Tell) struck me.  I paused and took the quote in, reflected on it.  “Writing was there to listen when no one would seem to understand what you were going through.” The quote is from Frederick Espiritu.  I instantly related to the quote.  Writing has been there for me for as long as I can remember.  It has been a healing salve for me since I was in my early teens. 

            What is it about writing that is so healing?  I am not sure I can give an explanation that does justice to the healing power of writing in my life.  I started writing poetry when depression emerged in my life.  I wrote constantly, filling red spiral notebooks with the darkness that resided in my mind.  The poems expressed the depression that was unnamed at the time.  I wouldn’t understand until decades later, but my writing was serving as a sort of therapy for me.  It was allowing me to express the darkness depression caused me to feel.  In those early years I was not diagnosed and the effects of my mood on my life were ignored by people, such as teachers and school counselors who should have addressed it.  Lacking intervention, I turned to my writing.  My notebooks listened.  They took in every word.  

            I continued writing into adulthood.  I have never stopped writing.  It has been the most constant coping strategy in my life.  About ten years ago, after years and years of writing, I shared some of my poems with my psychologist, Dr. Klein.  He understood.  He recognized that the writing was serving as a quasi-therapy for me.  Writing allowed me to express so much of what was stuck in my head because of my depression.  Dr. Klein read my poems.  We talked about them.  My writing provided more insight into what I was going through than I could express in discussion.  We often used my poems to start discussions.  It made talking easier for me.  Dr. Klein encouraged me to keep writing.  That advice has carried me over the years.  

            My journals are always by my side.  They give me a sense of security and a place to express the torment of the depression and anxiety that so often rule my life.  I don’t know the science behind how writing works, although I am interested in learning about it.  I just know writing works for me.  I believe it can work for others.  I have given a few talks on the healing power of writing.  They have been successful.  When a person is given a conduit to healing there is a release.  The conduit for me is writing. I believe in its power, but there are other conduits.  Art, music, and exercise are examples.

            Writing allows me to let the thoughts and emotions that fill my head flow out of me.  These thoughts often become trapped in my head.  They drag me down.  At times when my depression is in control, the thoughts that fill my head need an escape route.  Writing provides that route for me.  In the early years my writing took the form of poetry.  I have evolved.  I still write poems, but I also journal.  I write this blog.  I have dabbled with fiction writing.  Poetry and journaling seem to be the most effective for me. The thoughts that I struggled to process when they are stuck in my head become concrete on the page once written.  I can read those words and better understand them.  I can share my written word with my mental health team.  This allows them to gain a different understanding of what I am going through.  With depression it is often hard to verbalize out loud what I am feeling or thinking.  When I write, those feelings and thoughts flow differently.  They take on life and make more sense. 

            I believe writing has been a gift in my life.  I honestly believe that I would not have made it to this point in my life without writing.  At the times when I can speak to someone on my mental health team, writing is there.  My journal takes in my pain.  It holds it when I am unable to carry the pain.

            When I was diagnosed with cancer last summer, I turned to writing.  It seemed like an obvious thing to do. Writing helped me through depression. I had to trust that it would help me through cancer.  Since my diagnosis, I have written more pages than I can count.  Journal entries, poems, and blog posts have been abundant.  They have carried me in my weakest moments.  I wrote as chemo drugs were dripping into my body.  I wrote as nausea roiled through me.  Fatigued, but unable to sleep, I wrote.  Just as with the depression, writing helped me cope with the cancer.  I have written some of my best poems hooked up to IVs.  Writing gave me the hope I need to fight cancer.  

            Writing is always there for me.  It is my most faithful companion.  It is an elixir that has always brought me healing.  By no means am I suggesting that writing is a cure for depression or cancer.  Medical treatment is necessary.  Writing helps, though.  It makes the road easier to travel.  It takes on the darkness of my mood and the pain and fear of cancer.  Writing gives depression and cancer a holding place.  This allows me to face them head on.  I don’t have experience with other illnesses, but my guess is that writing can ease the suffering of other illnesses.  I have found that writing understands.  It knows my pain and is willing to hold it for me.  Writing listens when no one else understands.  I can’t ask for anymore.  

A Look at Cancer’s Effects

            Things change when you have cancer.  I am at my favorite coffee place. One of the baristas I have known for years didn’t recognize me because I am bald.  I guess without my hair I am unrecognizable.  It is strange how much hair can make a difference in our appearance.

            There are other changes forced upon me by cancer.  Some changes are ones only I notice.  Others are plain to see.  Stamina is one change.  I can no longer walk like I used to.  Before cancer I could walk for an hour.  Now, I can barely make it to corner and back.  I get winded and my legs ache.  I went to the grocery store yesterday for the first time in a while. I found myself relying on the grocery cart for support.

            I become fatigued so easily.  In the past I was somewhat of a night owl.  Now, I head to bed around 8:00.  I need more sleep.  Eight hours is not enough.  It is strange to need so much sleep when in the past I could get by on four to five hours a night.  Now, I do less and need more sleep.

            There are a lot of changes caused by cancer and chemotherapy that had never occurred to me.  My sense of taste is one.  Most foods have no taste.  Others taste like metal.  Eating is no longer pleasurable.  I eat tasteless foods just because I need to eat.  My doctor says my sense of taste will eventually return.  I hope so.  It seems like such a little thing, but it bothers me.  

            As a result of chemo, I bleed more easily.  Every day my nose bleeds.  It is more annoying than anything.  I am not losing a lot of blood, but it still requires attention.

            My nose is constantly congested.  It drips.  So, I always have a tissue in hand.  The congestion is from the chemo.  I am not sick.  At least not with a cold or the flu.

            My eyes water constantly.  It is distracting.  The watery eyes blur my vision making it difficult to read and write.  I also have little bumps called millia on the rims of my eyelids.  They are irritating.  The gel prescribed to heal the bumps blurs my vision, too.  I never would have imagined that breast cancer would affect my eyes. 

            The skin on my face and arms is discolored from the chemo.  It started as a rash.  The rash was an angry red and raised in spots.  It required medicated cream to reduce the redness.  Now, it is patchy dark brown skin.  I hate looking in the mirror.

            My skin is dry.  I have gone through a lot of body cream and lotion.  It never seems to be enough.  The dry skin makes the dark patches look and feel worse.

            The ache in my upper legs is another effect of the chemo.  It is bad enough that I frequently need to take pain killers.  The ache adds to my difficulty walking.  Even walking on flat ground feels like I am walking uphill.

            Nausea is the most annoying side effect of the chemo.  I hate the feeling.  Not only does the chemo cause nausea, but now my anxiety about the cancer and chemo is causing nausea.  As I transition from chemo into targeted treatment, the nausea is still there.  I can’t seem to escape it.  Nausea is a terrible feeling.

            Chemo and the pain killers I need to take cause constipation.  I won’t get into that.  Suffice it to say it is uncomfortable and even landed me in the emergency room early on. 

             My intent in sharing all these effects of cancer and chemo is not to gain sympathy.  My point is that when you have cancer you deal with a lot that you didn’t even consider.  It is a cruel illness.  Cancer takes away so much.  It changes people.  I haven’t even touched on how it has affected my mood or my perspective on life.  Those are impacted, too, but that is for another post.  In many ways I am a different person than I was when I was first diagnosed.  I have learned to deal with a lot.  It has been a battle.  It is a battle I will continue to fight.

            I am grateful to all who have supported me including my oncology team, my mental health team, my family and friends, my colleagues, and the support group I attend.  Cancer cannot be fought alone.  It requires a team approach.  I would not be doing as well as I am doing if it were not for my support system.  As I continue to battle cancer, I know I cannot give up.  I know I need to trust my team.  Take life moment by moment and dance atop cancer.  That is the only way to live.  

            

            

                                                   New flowers on my hair grave. Sometimes

                                                   we need rituals and symbols to help us 

                                                   through difficult times.   

Live Every Moment

            I was chatting with one of my friends tonight.  We were discussing life with cancer.  She is a cancer survivor.  She said that we need to live every moment we have.  It made me think about where I am in my cancer journey.  My oncologist is pleased with how I have responded to treatment.  Overall, I am doing well despite my stage 4 diagnosis.  I have a lot to be grateful for.  I also have a lot to live for.  

            After our conversation I thought about what my friend said.  We do have to live every moment.  I may have cancer, but I can still live.  Depression has held me back most of my life, but my cancer diagnosis has provided me with a lot to reflect on.  I realized that I have a lot of living to do.  I don’t know how much time I have left.  Hopefully, I have a lot of time left.  What I do know is that I am going to start living every moment.  I am going to do things I have always wanted to do.  I am going to discover things I didn’t know I wanted to do.  

            There is a song by one of my favorite bands, REO Speedwagon, titled “Live Every Moment.”  I have listened to that song several times as I have battled cancer.  I didn’t realize how impactful it was until today.  In the song there is a line, “Live every moment, love every day.”  That is what I am going to start doing.  I think focusing on living every moment and loving every day is a good approach to cancer and depression.  I’m not saying it is going to be easy.  I will still have rough days.  I will still get down at times.  But that is okay.  I will focus on making each day the best it can be.  Maybe I’ll listen to the song each morning to get me motivated.  

            What does living every moment mean?  I’m not completely sure, but I am going to find out.  One thing I am going to do is focus on what I want to do and what makes me happy.  Living with depression as long as I have makes finding happiness difficult.  I think it will help me to start thinking about what makes me happy.  Writing makes me happy.  So, one thing I am going to focus on is starting to write a new book.  I have a story to tell.  Writing this blog makes me happy.  I am going to extend it into a book about my cancer journey.  

            I am going to plan a trip to Italy.  I want to see Calabria, which is where my family is from.  I have always wanted to visit Calabria.  Now is my chance.  If I don’t do it soon, I may not have the opportunity.  I have already been using an app on my phone to learn Italian.  I don’t know if anyone will go with me or if I will venture off on my own.  Either way, I am going to live every moment by traveling to Italy. There are several places I would like to see in Italy.  It is time that I stopped thinking about it and just go.

            Another thing I would like to do is devote my time to mental health advocacy.  I have given 26 years to a career in education.  Something is missing.  My passion is in mental health advocacy.  I want to use my experience with mental illness to help others.  I’ve written books and given talks about mental health, but I haven’t done enough.  I’m going to live every moment by venturing into more advocacy work.

            I’ve never thought of myself as artistic, but I’ve explored some creative activities in the last couple of years as a way to alleviate my depression.  I enjoy it.  I want to live every moment by exploring my creativity.  I want to try more painting and bookmaking.  Maybe I can combine my writing with art.  

            Living every moment and loving every day can be found in little things, too.  Walking through a garden or along the beach and viewing artwork in a museum can be living every day.  It is about enjoying life.  Finding the little things and the big things that make me happy.  I am going to love every day when I can.  On the days that I can’t, I’ll give myself space.  I will allow myself to find my passions.  I will be grateful for what I am able to do while I am able to do them.  At some point cancer may take that ability away from me.  Depression will throw its weight around and make it difficult at times.  In the meantime, I am going to live every moment and love every day.  I’ll let my friend know that I am grateful that she made me think about all of this.  I will live for me because that is why we are alive.  We are not guaranteed a specific amount of time.  What matters is what we do with the time we are given.  I am going to make that time matter.  

More On Depression During the Holidays

           On Monday I wrote about depression during the holidays.  It is such an important topic.  One that doesn’t get enough attention.  So, I wanted to expand on it in today’s post.   

            Depression and other mental illnesses do not take a break for the holidays.  In fact, many people experience a worsening of symptoms.  I cannot speak for everyone with a mental illness, but I can say in all honesty that my depression and anxiety increase during the holidays.  It feels like the weight of my mental illness gets heavier.  My negative thoughts become more intense.  There is a seasonal form of depression, but that is not what I have.  Although many people do. My diagnoses are major depressive disorder and generalized anxiety disorder.  These two illnesses make the holidays difficult for me. They make life difficult year-round.

            Let’s start with the lights and decorations.  Each winter holiday has its own decorations. They are everywhere.  You can’t go out in public without seeing bright decorations.  I know the decorations are beautiful and are meant to bring joy.  Unfortunately, they often trigger negative thoughts for me.  The voice of depression in my head says, “See all these beautiful decorations.  They are not for you.”  Often in December my friend and I will drive through a large neighborhood that goes all out with the holiday lights and decorations.  I marvel at their beauty. Then depression’s voice reminds me I don’t have decorations.  My life is not festive.  The depression prevents me from truly enjoying the lights and decorations.  

            I don’t remember the last time I decorated for the holidays.  It seems so pointless when it is just me and my depression at home.  I have no one to enjoy the decorations with.  Depression reminds me that it is the reason I am alone.  I have always isolated myself to avoid forcing others to deal with my depression.  

            It is the aloneness aspect of depression that makes holiday gatherings so difficult.  I feel down so often.  I am very aware of this.  I don’t want it to ruin the holidays for my family and friends.  I am often very reserved and quiet at holiday celebrations.  I limit my interactions.  All of this is driven by the depression.  It is a faceless thief of all that is important in life.  I often leave early because I don’t want my depression to ruin the day for others.  

            Celebrations and holiday gatherings remind me of how alone the depression has caused me to be.  These thoughts just make the depression worse.  I see others enjoying their time together.  I wonder why I can’t be that free with my enjoyment. I question why I can’t celebrate with others.  My mind gets busy.  The depression has a running monologue in my head.  It is uncomfortable at best.  Painful at its worse.  

            I would love to enjoy the holidays.  I have memories of family gatherings as a child before the depression.  I can’t recreate those times.   It would be nice if the depression would take a break for the holidays and allow me to create new memories.

            This year I am trying harder to silence my depression.  Part of that has come from having cancer.  I realize that I don’t know how many holidays I have left.  Cancer could take me away whenever it wants.  That knowledge has led me to want to fight the depression.  It is not going to be easy.  I am already struggling. Depression is an illness that I have.  Just like I am fighting cancer, I need to fight the depression.  There will be bad days.  That is part of having an illness. I need to remind myself that depression is an illness.  I am not my depression.  By talking back to the depression and using other coping strategies, I will get through this holiday season.  I have set a goal for myself.  I am going to smile and enjoy my niece and nephew this year.  This goal isn’t overwhelming.  I can make it work.  I must believe that.

            If you are struggling with increased depression during the holidays, I encourage you to set one simple goal for yourself.  Focus on achieving that goal.  Use all the coping strategies you have in your arsenal to accomplish the goal.  Try to view setbacks as steppingstones.  That is how I am going to approach it. If I am not successful, it’s okay.  Depression is an illness and at times we need to let it run its course.  As we do that, we need to rely on our support systems.  Whatever that support looks like for you, lean on it.  Depression doesn’t have to be a solitary illness during the holidays or at any time.  I am learning that thanks to my support system.  

            If you do not have a support system or need more support, I recommend reaching out to NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness).  They have great resources, and they provide support to all in need.  I am including a link to their website.  Search for the nearest chapter to you

NAMI:  https://www.nami.org/Home

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If NAMI isn’t something you are interested in, try speaking with your primary care provider.  He or she should be able to provide you with referrals.

Shame in Mental Illness

           I have spent a lot of time thinking about the changes I have gone through since my cancer diagnosis.  It has allowed me to reflect on my depression and how it has shaped my entire life.  I have come to some interesting conclusions.  Depression has engrained many thoughts within my mind.  I can’t speak for other mental illnesses, but I do have a better understanding of how depression and anxiety have shaped me.

            In the beginning I was too young to understand what was happening with the depression.  I didn’t have a diagnosis.  I didn’t have much support.  I had a high school counselor, who didn’t really understand and tried to fill my head with “happy” platitudes.  In hindsight she was doing the best she knew how, but I never believed her well-intended words.  This set the stage for depression’s negative voice.  This voice took control and has not let go.  It has been chirping in my head for almost 40 years.  

            Over the years the voice has provided several messages. Many of these messages have led me to feel shame for my mental illness.  Sometimes the depression is mimicking the words it hears from society.  They are those well-intended phrases like, “You should just cheer up,” “You have so much to be happy about,” “Just smile,” and “You shouldn’t be sad. Others have it worse.”  Depression uses these words to make me feel shame.  It makes me feel like I should have better control of my feelings and emotions.  There is this sense that I am causing the depression and not valuing my life.  It has taken me a very long time to realize that the thoughts and shame they create are not true.  

The thoughts are a part of an illness.  They are not my fault.  These thoughts drive me down into a deep darkness.  They have led me to the edge of suicide.  I do my best to fight the thoughts.  I work with my mental health team.  I practice talking back to my thoughts.  I practice self-care by writing, listening to music, painting, and walking.  Even with all this self-care depression makes me feel shame. I am learning talk back to the shame.  The understanding that my depression is an illness was deepened by my cancer diagnosis.  I began to see parallels between the two.  One illness affects my mind.  The other illness affects my body.  Both have taken a toll on me.  

So much of society hasn’t figured out that depression is an illness.  I believe this is true for most mental illnesses.  The lack of understanding makes it difficult to live with mental illness. It increases the shame.  At times I question why I feel so down.  I question why my thoughts are so dark.  I don’t understand why at times I consider taking my own life.  Being diagnosed and treated for cancer has provided some clarity.  I have gained an understanding of illness in general terms. I have been able to apply what I am experiencing with cancer to what I experience with depression. They are both illnesses.  They both have symptoms that I have no control over.  Depression and cancer are both illnesses. 

I wish it did not take a cancer diagnosis to allow me to arrive at this understanding. I am grateful for the understanding.  People with mental illness often live with shame.  The message we hear is that our illness is just in our heads and that is we can snap out of it.  That is not true. I can more snap out of depression than I can snap out of cancer.  I have two illnesses. I will continue to battle both, but I do not have to be ashamed of either one of them.