Julia S., 37, Philadelphia
My name is Julia S. and I am diagnosed with depression, anxiety, (was diagnosed bipolar at a young age but have not been rediagnosed in my adult life) and I have anger issues as diagnosed by my friends who just know, I’m an Aires♈️
I first started experiencing depression as a teenager, 16 or 17 years old. At 17, I attempted suicide and was hospitalized for a week. I was young, so I was in the youth center, and honestly it made me feel crazy. I lied my way out because it was just not for me. It wasn’t my vibe of getting help–sitting with a bunch of people talking through my issues was not my form of healing at the time. I go back and forth; I regret not spending more time there and giving it a chance, maybe I would be better off now if I did. At the same time, looking back, I wasn’t open to it and I don’t know how much more I would have gotten out of it if I stayed.
I continued to go to therapy after and went pretty consistently from 15 to 27-years-old.
I have always found that a lot of my depression is dependent upon whether or not I’m in a relationship. I took medication in my teens, then dated a partner for a few years, decided I didn’t need medication or therapy anymore, and quit all that. In 2020, I went back to therapy, and once again, now in a healthy relationship, I truthfully decided to stop (I know, I know, I’m working on it).
Depression, to me, looks like loneliness,
which is why it was odd I wasn’t receptive to group therapy in the hospital. That being said, I’m more depressed when I’m alone. I’m not like many people who enjoy their alone time and use it as a mental reset. My mental reset is being out. Being around people.
Maybe it’s a distraction. Maybe it’s avoidance. All I know is that I feel rejuvenated when I have my people around me.
I’m not a journaler. I’m not a meditator. Going to a place I’ve never been to and having a conversation with the barista or the bartender, who I’ve never met–that’s my form of meditation.
But I have depression, right? So it depends on my mood. When I want to talk to a bartender, I want to talk, but when I don’t want to talk to someone, trust me, they’ll know. Everything has to be on my own terms. It’s kind of like I’m searching for quality interactions in the way that people can see me the way I want to be seen, and not just have small talk because EW!
It’s hard to feel connected to people though because my family has always treated me differently because of my mental illness, especially my sister who also suffers from similar mental health issues. She’s my younger sister, so not only did I go through things before her, I’ve gone through a lot of things in, what some might consider, a scarier way than she has. I think she likes to feel like the caretaker. If I call her and start to cry, her response is often very motherly, and what I really want is for her to just listen. I get angry when I’m talking to her about being sad about something, because instead of listening, she’ll make me promise not to go and sit and drink at the bar. Which is valid; alcohol is not a healthy coping mechanism. However, without fail, she’ll tell me the next day that she went out to the bar with her partner to blow off steam and I feel like she’s being hypocritical.
The biggest stigma I face, especially when it comes to my family after watching me go through what I went through as a kid, is that I have to be treated with extra care
because if not, people are afraid they might be the cause (or not) of something drastic happening. And that is the most lonesome of it all. No one in my personal life can see the healing and growth I’ve gone through to get here. I sit with myself when I hear people tell me I need to change my actions, when I know deep down how hard I worked, and currently work, to be a functioning member of society without my medication and without affording therapy. It’s isolating. It’s painful. It makes me question my self-worth and abilities when all I’m out here doing is trying to survive.
One of the biggest struggles I have as someone who is diagnosed mentally ill is being in a relationship with someone who seemingly has no mental health issues and trying to get them to understand I do. We have different ways of handling our feelings. My experiences with depression and anxiety are so heavy that being around people who feel them more lightly can be really challenging. No, I don’t want to color in your fucking mandala book. I want to crawl into a ball and talk to nobody, but also at the same time I want to drink a beer about it because I can’t stand the thought of being alone, thank you very much.
It’s also very overwhelming sharing my experiences because I feel like everyone comes to me with their shit because they know I can relate in some way. I somehow create a safe space for people, which is surely valuable and I wouldn’t have it any other way–people need a place to go when they are feeling overwhelmed by their feelings and mental illnesses. Sometimes though, I just wish people would be aware of the fact that I’m going through things too. Things trigger me too. Just because I share a story or experience does not mean I am always going to be the best resource to talk about it. I need my time too. And claiming that just feels selfish and can send me into a spiral of how valuable I am or how strong I am.
I’m a people-pleaser though,
so I’m always going to do my best to be there for someone even when I don’t have enough to give. I don’t know who else is talking about it, but it’s hard to find people opening up about the depression that comes with being a people-pleaser. So let’s get into it.
Doing things for people or with people, because I know it’s going to help them, leaves me feeling drained.
I can’t stop doing it, though. I keep draining myself with a lot of my friends. Making myself available, or seemingly available.
I get home, and I have nothing left to give. All I want to do is go to the bar, have a beer, play tetris on my phone and let no one talk to me.
Somedays I am feeling low about myself and I don’t want to put that on other people. I go through days where I feel very un-thought of.
I spend most of my days sitting at home and no one is calling to check in on me. I get in my head about it and I get more depressed. Am I unlovable? Does anyone even care about me? The thoughts start creeping back in. What am I even doing here? Catch me on the week before my period and look out! Because everything I just said gets 10 times worse.
I don’t give to get. Please, know that that’s true.
My therapist once told me, though, “You are a pint glass of water, oftentimes, the people you surround yourself with are a tea cup.” Meaning: my capacity is the size of a pint glass, so when someone else’s cup is empty, I’m able to help fill that. But when all they have is a tea cup, they can’t fill my glass in the way I can fill theirs.
Yes, it’s draining. Yes, I feel like I’m constantly emptying my cup. I just need something to give me purpose, and being there for other people helps me do just that.
The greatest thing I keep telling myself and others in our darkest times is to be compassionate with the fact that things might get worse before they get better. It’s always darkest before dawn. Be nice to yourself about it. It’s not easy to be nice to yourself when you’re feeling that low, but even something simple like going out and getting yourself a cookie can make all the difference in your daily mood. Do one thing, every so often, that makes you feel like you’re taking care of yourself. Doing one thing just for you.
Maybe it’s cleaning a room, organizing something, or getting rid of notifications on my phone. Eliminating clutter in your physical space helps open up mental space for you to feel lighter and more at peace in your mind.
Finding a healthy distraction is another big one I battle with. Instead of going to the bar to have a beer (which I am certainly known to do), what if I went to the gym, or even went on a little walk? I live in a city, for goodness sake! I try to remind myself of those little opportunities as much as I can; get out and do something for yourself instead of sitting at home all day. Pro tip: you can watch that show you’ve been binging while walking on the treadmill.
I’m gonna be honest, I know this is a little all over the place, and that’s just indicative of my day-to-day life. Every day is different. I call my good days, “The Golden Window.” There needs to be a golden window of opportunity for me to express myself. There are days I’m still feeling everything, but it’s not as heavy. Nothing has agitated me yet so I’m not coming off with aggression. Having conversations like these HAVE to be on my own terms. And no one can do anything to make that golden window appear.
Sometimes I’m really sensitive. Everything around me bothers me. I shut down and need a solo day out on the town to reset and come back more whole.
I like to say depression is my 9-5. It’s a chore. It’s a job. It takes up most of my waking hours. But I do have those few hours a week where my mind doesn’t feel so sad.
My anxiety, on the other hand, is 24/7. And that’s a story for when my next golden window comes around.
For anyone reading that is depressed, it’s not just that you’re not alone. It’s that there are so many of us out there who feel this heaviness and sometimes it can feel hard to escape. It’s not just you, there’s a community of resources and human beings who relate to you so deeply.
If even one moment of this story resonated with you, please shoot me a comment. Especially in a space like this, it’s important that we ALL feel a little less alone.