The Girl Who Celebrates Birthdays

I turned 40 years old this month. And before you say anything, I need no condolences. And no, I’m not 39 and holding. I intend to proudly own my age, and I’ll tell you why: I never thought I’d reach 40 years old.

To be honest, I didn’t WANT to reach 40 years old.

Trigger Warning: We’re going to talk about depression, anxiety, and suicide today. Because I want to share with you an ongoing mental health success story - mine.

For some context, I’ll put quite simply that I grew up in a culture where to admit my struggle to friends or leaders would likely be met with judgment that would make the situation worse.

As a kid, my main driver was making others happy. Making others proud. I was teacher’s pet as often as I could be in school, known as a good kid with a smiling face who was always willing to help. It worked pretty well for me for many years. Things started to change around 11 or 12.?

Some really hard things happened in my preteen years to bring about depression (other than puberty), but unlike my peers, I just couldn’t seem to cope. I kept up the facade of the happy, helpful, good kid, but I felt hopeless and useless and worthless. My hope in a good world was pretty much lost. My goals for the future were nonexistent. My only dream was that some man would find me tolerable enough to marry, and I could have a kid someday and maybe find a purpose that way. But later on, I convinced myself that I wouldn’t be a good wife or mother, and that ultimately, the world was better off without me.

I used to lie awake at night as a teen, afraid and lonely, and literally praying to God that I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. There are years of my teen years in which I hardly remember anything, and almost nothing clearly. I don’t remember my 12th, 13th, 14th, or 15th birthdays. I only remember being disappointed, lonely, and unhappy on my 16th.

OK, that’s heavy. So, let’s take a pause. Take a deep breath. Spoiler alert: It gets better. I didn’t know at the time, but those dark days would inspire me toward compassion, kindness, humor, healthy relationships, setting boundaries, self-care and so much more. When I look back on what I can remember from those days, I naturally feel sad for my young self. I wish I could hug her tight and tell her she is going to be so proud of herself someday, and that everything amazing she will ever be is already inside her, waiting to come out and make the world a brighter place.

But for a very long time, even beyond my teen years, I didn’t wish for a long life. I kept talking myself into living because I had things to do. I had a project to finish at work or school, then I could go. I had to follow through with something I promised a friend, then I could go. I had to wait until after certain birthdays, anniversaries, or holidays, and then… Years went by in which I considered setting a date to end it.

The first time I ever admitted the way I felt, I was 20 years old. The resident assistant in my dorm room found me in an empty room, sobbing on the floor. For the first time ever, someone told me that it was OK to struggle with depression, and that it was OK to look for help. That God was not ashamed of me. Over the next year or so, I went to counseling with the college dean until finally getting the courage to tell my mom and go to the doctor at 21 years old.

I’d like to tell you my depression was cured one day and I have woken up feeling wonderful ever since. But depression and anxiety are still a regular part of my life. Sometimes they leave me alone, sometimes they take turns attacking me, and sometimes they gang up on me at the same time.

But with years of life come perspective. I know my triggers. I know how to prepare and how to cope. I still find myself once in a while in the fetal position bawling like crazy, but that’s actually pretty good therapy for me to just let it all out. I sometimes watch a particular show because I feel the need for a good cry. Yep, I’m one of those.

I’ve hated myself. I’ve felt lost. For years when people flippantly asked “Isn’t it good to be alive?” I’d just grin and not answer because I wasn’t convinced the answer was “yes.” Several years ago, I found myself writing a suicide note that I thankfully never finished writing.

I’ve gone to counseling. I’ve used multiple types of medication to find the right one at the right time. I identified friends and family members who are no-judgment people who remind me of the good in the world and who don’t mind a midnight text message. I use breathing techniques. I’ve used the crisis textline (988 or 741741). And I refuse to be ashamed of any of that.

Most folks like me are afraid to share their mental health struggles, especially in a professional setting. They worry about what employers will think. Will we get that job, that promotion, that big project? Or will our leader think we are weak or incapable or unreliable or we can’t handle stress? I’m really quite done hiding this part of me. On the contrary, it’s possible that my struggle has made me one heck of a resilient, dedicated person who knows what it is to work hard at life and find opportunities amidst the challenges.

A mental health diagnosis is scary. And when you are like me, and you likely will never be “cured” of it, it’s even scarier. It may be a condition you can manage, but it’s pretty much always trying to kill you.

I mentioned before that I was known as a good kid with a smiling face who was always willing to help and that it was a facade. But here’s where the success story comes in: If you see me smiling today, it’s because I found joy. I love helping out because I love making others feel good, too. I am (mostly) well-behaved because I believe in respect and in the impact that my behavior has on others and I don’t take that responsibility lightly.

And, I assure you, when I’m having a low day, a hard day, a depressed episode, or high anxiety, you’ll see the real me then, too. If you ask me how I am, I don’t lie. And if I’m feeling pretty awful, I take the freaking day off - it’s called a sick day.

And the most miraculous thing of all is that I am truly celebrating turning 40. Not mourning. Not pretending. Actually celebrating and happy to be alive.

My main reason for sharing this story isn’t to get more happy birthday messages (although, feel free because my ego always appreciates feeding). It’s because my story probably sounds like some of yours.

Before I told anyone about the way I felt, I was getting through college the best I could. My first year away from home I was a custodian for the college. I was 19 when I spent my entire shift crying while I emptied trash and vacuumed floors in the deans’ wing. I came across a book - I don’t recall the title - sitting on the dean’s desk that had to do with dealing with depression. Now, I don’t usually believe that Providence is quite so obvious, but I was pretty desperate, so I picked up the book, asked God to give me a word, and flipped the pages. I stuck my finger on a random page and opened it. The first words I read were:

“The worst thing a depressed patient can do is to battle their depression alone.”

So, here I am. NOT battling alone. And I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re alone either. You aren’t. You’ve got me.

And, quite frankly, we also aren’t alone among the millions of other Americans who have experienced mental illness at some point in their lives.

I know it’s not easy to talk about your own mental health for the first time. Like I said before, it took me quite a long time myself. And not everyone I talked to was exactly supportive. But it was worth the risk. I’ve learned so much since then from the people I’ve talked to, and grown stronger because of their influence. And now, maybe I can even provide some strength and support to others.

Maybe you don’t want to be as open as I am, and that’s fine. You have a right to your privacy. But please don’t be ashamed of your struggles. Please don’t be alone. I’ve lost dear friends to suicide. I’m determined never to be one of them. Let’s be determined together.

Let’s celebrate every year, every birthday, every milestone. I haven’t always, but I plan on a lot of celebrations in my future.

National Alliance for Mental Health: Hear other stories and find resources at https://www.nami.org

Crisis Text Line: Text 741741 or? https://www.crisistextline.org

Suicide Hotline: Call or text 988, or https://988lifeline.org