What follows is the hardest sentence that I’ve ever had to write: I’ve struggled with mental health for over ten years. I want to share my story and talk about why I’m sharing that story.
Mental health issues have increasingly taken center stage over the last few years. It’s not hard now to scroll through LinkedIn, Facebook, and other social media and find articles and posts about mental health as people try to bring awareness to this all-too-common struggle. Especially since the start of COVID, the intersection of health and work has gone front-and-center.
I read every single post and watch every single clip or conversation to be found. I know that I am searching for something, but more often than not I come away feeling empty; feeling unsatisfied in my quest to find to a sense of sameness and a common experience. I think that I struggle to connect with the writers because, often, they don’t provide the full picture of what it means to deal with their illness. Knowing we have the same diagnosis is fine, but without examples and the stories, I don’t feel the same connection and comfort that I seek. Can you actually be successful while dealing with what I deal with regularly? In my limited experience, the answer can be yes, but, especially in the beginning of my career, I questioned this often. My hope is that for people reading this facing the same struggle, this helps you feel like you’re not alone. For people who aren’t in the same situation as I am, I hope that I can provide a window into what these very large and powerful feelings are like for people.
My story
My story is fairly simple: I have been fighting anxiety and depression for almost exactly ten years. It didn’t always have that name – I have a laundry list of words and phrases that I used instead because they were more palatable – but that’s what it was, is, and always will be. I vividly remember when my therapist first named these feelings for me. I cried from the sense of relief, knowing that this battle I’d been facing was indeed real. I was not crazy, I was not weak. I was, and still am, dealing with two very real illnesses that I engage with almost every day. I want to dive into my experience with each of them.
Before my own diagnosis, I had a bias and a stigma against the concept of an anxiety disorder. A part of me always thought it was fake; people were just too in their head and needed to chill. I thought it was just synonymous with a crisis of confidence and that if one just believed in themselves, they wouldn’t worry as much. I’ve heard it from others before. “Back in my day, we just called that life”. “Everyone has problems…grow up.”
I’ve had two or three extended bouts, lasting a few weeks long each, of relentless anxiety. My first bout with anxiety was in high school. I was sixteen and after a series of unfortunate events, including the passing of my friend in a tragic car accident and the descent of my grandfather into his last months. Confronting my own mortality for the first time combined with extreme feelings of loneliness was too much for me. One day at school, I had my first panic attack, which I want to describe for anyone who hasn’t had one.
I was already at my last straw when I heard a rumor being spread about me while walking between classes. I am sitting in calculus class wondering who has heard. My mind goes down a rabbit hole, with a dizzying array of ideas swirling in my mind like a tornado, each getting increasingly delusional. My mind starts spinning, trying to deduce who had found out from the back of people’s heads in class. What if Morgan knew? I bet she would tell everybody. Or Dave?. Oh god, he’s whispering. What if they all know already? What if someone posts about it on Facebook? What if the world finds out? What if my parents find out? My heart starts racing and my chest starts to tighten, like my lungs and chest are shriveling up inside of me. I can feel myself heating up internally, almost like a fever from hell, but my skin starts to get cold and clammy. The cold feeling turns into numbness and tingling and my chest gets tighter. It’s getting harder to breathe and my pupils start to dilate. My breathing speeds up as I try to catch my breath, but it always feels a tad out of reach. It feels like my oxygen levels are slowly dwindling and I start to hyperventilate. I run out of the classroom and start to cry. Am I going to die? I can’t catch my breath. I call my parents and collapse on my knees. I call 911.
Now imagine the next day, where all the same fears exist and nothing has changed except the added complication of wondering whether that would happen again. I would experience parts of this cycle nearly every day for a month. I did not complete a full day of school during that time, to the point where one of my teachers wanted to fail me for being truant.
I mentioned that I have experienced this for extended periods a few times before; I have experienced this at work, minus the ambulance call. At least four times. And, that was when work was in-person. You can imagine how frequently that happened in 2020 alone.
Depression, in my experience, is very different. Whereas anxiety is an extremely active feeling, depression is the ultimate non-feeling. An unshaking combination of ambivalence, lethargy, and sadness. It’s not the same as active sadness, where you might cry and shout and wail. Depression is a numbness that can break a person down to the point that getting out of bed feels like a marathon, where stringing thoughts together is like running through mud, and “what’s the point” unintentionally becomes life’s mantra. Day after day, if left unimpeded, the grip can get tighter and reduce a person to nothing until they are lifted out of it…or they suffer the same fate of 130 people everyday, losing the battle and dying by suicide.
I have missed days at work when feeling depressed. I have missed a full week. I even went on medical leave for my mental health in late 2020.
Why am I telling you this?
There was a part of me that always thought that because I experienced these things, I would be limited in what I would be able to accomplish. Even if I could rebuild myself and find a modicum of stability, even find friends or a long-term relationship, my illnesses would prevent me from ever scratching the surface of my potential at work. How could I deliver or be counted on due to my inconsistencies and struggles?
I’m not sure that I can say I’m a “success story”, as my career is far from over. But, I can say that things are better than I ever could have imagined them getting for me. On a personal front, I’m surrounded by friends and family who love me. I found the most incredible wife, who every day finds a way to brighten my day. What’s surprised me more is that I found a job that I love and excel at.
That’s why I started this business – I want to help people. Coming from a place of true understanding, be someone’s partner through the tough times and help translate that to success in their personal and professional life. Share some of the lessons I’ve learned through trial, error, and pain so that others don’t have to.
A few parting words:
If you are reading this and can relate in some way, please know you are not alone. And, you do not have to be limited in what you accomplish at work. Your experience can become an asset and help you learn how to work with others more effectively.
If you are someone who has “beaten” this illness, please consider telling your story; the more people see successes here, the more likely we are to save someone.
If your story is in the beginning or currently in the middle of this fight, know that things can get better, and, I mean this sincerely, please reach out to me if you need a person to talk to.