What it Feels Like, Part One

I always have people ask me: "What does it fee like to be bipolar? What does it feel like to be depressed? What does anxiety and a panic attack feel like?"
Even people with the same issues ask me what mine are like, and when I knew my meds began to work. So here goes. It's an emotional week because Juni is turning six (anxiety from him growing older), and I'm beyond hormonal (which gives me anxiety and depression.) So the two of those are just the perfect storm. And I need to rain a little words on the blog.
I figure for every one person who asks me what it feels like, there are 10 too scared to ask. So here goes. I can only handle one part at a time, or my emotions will take over. I'll start with what I've taken meds for the longest: depression. Then anxiety. Then bipolar. If you have questions, ask me. If you need help, I'll help you find it. And if you're going through anything like this, there is help. There is hope. And it WILL get better. Trust me. I had my first panic attack at age 5. My first major depression at 18. And my first full-blown mania at 30. I've embraced my issues, and I'm happy. It's not easy, and it takes work. But that's just life.

So...Part One: Depression

Depression is sneaky. It's slow. It comes over you like a fog. Just a little at a time until eventually, you can't see. For me, it starts with a "down" feeling. Less motivation. Less physical activity. Less energy. Less talking. Less everything. Except for eating. Food becomes my friend.
Depression slowly moves in, and then takes over. My body feels heavy. Like I've been jumping on a trampoline, and now my legs are made of concrete. My mind can't get out of the "funk." And my body doesn't want to get out of bed. My body aches. My face sags. I don't look like myself. Even my posture changes.
I'm tired, all the time. But not because I'm busy. Because I just don't see anything better to do than sleep, or watch tv, or basically any other sloth-like activity.
This lasts for a while...the build-up. And then I hit bottom. It hurts to get out of bed. It hurts to smile. It hurts to talk and it hurts to love. Life isn't...anything. Everything just...is. Not fun, not enjoyable, not anything. Numbness. Failure without trying to succeed. No drive...for anything. Even my senses become numb. Food doesn't taste the same. The world looses it's color to the point of almost black and white. When someone hugs or touches me, there's no reaction. I'm hearing, but not listening. Just going through the motions, wasting my life. Hours, days, weeks pass and I don't realize how much times has gone by. The television is my best friend. Mindless.
And then there's the realization - This sucks. This isn't right. The world is moving, but I'm not. I'm in slow motion. It usually took my mom, driving to Blacksburg, to literally pull me out of bed and take me to my psychiatrist. She'd threaten to take me home to Chesapeake if I didn't go. She'd force me to take a shower, shave my legs, and brush my hair. I hated it, but loved her for seeing that I needed help, and for forcing me to take care of myself.
The problem with depression meds is that they take weeks to work. And some of the side effects just plain blow. But...anything is better than feeling like your life doesn't matter. I've never thought suicide, but I've wondered why I was alive. What my life was worth. What it was all about.
It takes time for the meds to work. And when they do, it's not the magic bullet. You don't wake up on a Tuesday and say "wow! the world is beautiful! I'm alive again!" It's more like the fog slowly lifting, until one day you realize the sun is shining. It's slow. It's never fast enough. It's a process of finding the right med at the right dose. It's hard. BUT...once you find that perfect dose of that perfect med, you're good to go. I've taken the same medication for six years, with no signs of depression and no side effects. That's success.
Yes, I get sad. But that's part of life. I should get sad when my dog dies or my feelings are hurt. But the depression is gone.
I went on and off depression medications three times before I was 20. My doctor told me he followed the "three strike rule." If you go off and on three times, it's not situational (like a death in the family, loss of job, etc.). It's an imbalance within the chemicals in my brain.
Every three or four years, my mind outsmarts the antidepressant, and I have to switch. That's not fun. But it's manageable. I slowly go off one and go onto another to decrease the withdraw symptoms. And it's okay. It ups my anxiety, but I can manage that, too.
Depression is evil. It's sneaky. You don't even know it's there until it's in control, and you're crying in bed, not knowing what's happening or how you even became this shell of yourself. And getting that control back is extreme work. But I fully believe that there is a med out there for everyone. Talk. Give it time. Realize that there are others that have felt THE EXACT SAME WAY. You're not the only one who can't get out of bed today. And this isn't the last day you'll feel this way.
But if I can do it, then so can you. Depression sucks. BUT...things could be worse. Cancer, diabetes, ALSmeds work, and that I have such an amazing family that takes care of me, watches for signs, and strives to understand.

Well...I'm spent. I could talk about how it feels forever...it literally affects every aspect of your mind and body. But that's how my depression feels, in a nutshell...