Trigger warning: This post has a moderate discussion of depression and anxiety.
So… before I get started, I will tell you one thing:
I don’t have it that bad. My life doesn’t suck, I don’t suffer from a lot, I simply have anxiety and depression. I could have it worse. BUT, that does not mean that I am not allowed to be upset about things. One of my favorite quotes is “Telling something they can’t be sad because someone else has it worse is like telling someone they can’t be happy because someone else has it better.” So, with that, let me tell you a bit of my story.
I grew up being homeschooled, starting in first grade, after my mom had her second miscarriage in the course of 18 months. She wanted my older brother and I home with her, so she homeschooled us. We spent all our time together, the three of us, and four when my dad got home from work.
My brother and I were the best of friends…
Of course, the older he got, the more plans he had, and the less I saw him.
Before I knew it, he was 18, and left on a two year church service mission. I could email him on mondays for an hour or two… but that was it. For two years, my best friend was across the country.
I got into counseling right away because I expected to be depressed, but my counselor said I was okay and released me. I became a recluse. I spent most of my time in my room, on my phone, hardly coming out.
I got grumpy, I had a bad attitude, I was angry every time I had to not use my phone. I was addicted.
Time passed and I slowly began to outgrow my addiction, but my depression stuck.
June of 2015, I finally figured out that it was depression.
I became a recluse again. I didn’t want to tell anyone or go to the doctor. I refused to get medicine. I was a disaster.
I finally broke and tried some medication and, after six different ones, we found a combination of two that actually work.
So, I am here because I have depression and anxiety.
I am here to share what I know.
I, Ruby, promise to do my best to help you get through your rough patch as well as I can.