Losing Your Why

Nietzsche said, "He who has a why to live can bear almost any how." 

Most people who know me, know I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder with a healthy side of anxiety. I have been in therapy since I was 17 and on medication since I was 25. I have never hidden this from anyone. I understand that there is still a stigma around mental health issues but I have never shied away from a conversation about what it is like living with a disorder or how it affects my life. Until recently.

Over the last few months, I have been in a downward spiral.  Sinking deeper and deeper into my depression.  I am aware of the trigger (to be blogged at a later date) but I could not stop it from happening.  I have spent hours sobbing uncontrollably.  Days where I slept for 20 hours straight. Night after night of not sleeping at all. I have gone a week without eating - chainsmoking to feel full. I have ignored my cell, my email, my voicemail. I have fallen physically sick over and over again due to my inability to take care of myself. I am broken.

This isn't the first time I have been this deep.  Over the last seven years I have struggled more than ever with my illness. I have alienated myself from friends and family. I isolate and hide from everything but my job (which keeps me somewhat sane) major family events and much-needed escapes to see live music; the one thing that I can still find true joy in. Almost everything else seems like background noise to my depression; something to distract me from my head and keep away the darkest of thoughts.

I hit a wall. I looked around at my life and I thought "I have no fucking why so why am I continuing?" Yes, that wall.  The one no one talks about. The biggest taboo of mental health conversations. The one that leads you to round the clock care by people in white coats. The one that terrifies most people but only makes me feel like I can stop this pain if I can no longer hold it. A thought I have had over the last seven years more times than I can count. I am exhausted.

I recently started seeing a new therapist. She is an amazing woman who understands overly empathetic people who lack shields by which to protect themselves. From our second session until yesterday when I emailed her that I was barely holding on, she had been suggesting a new treatment for depression. Ketamine Infusion Therapy. I read a little about it after she mentioned it the first time but I was ambivalent about the idea of using animal tranquilizers as a remedy to my madness.  When I reached out to her yesterday I was so desperate that I begged her to help me find a center to start the process. 

I immediately contacted them and received a call within 15 minutes. The woman on the other end of the line heard the absolute despair in my voice.  She talked to me for 45 minutes. She had been there, she knew exactly how I felt and she promised me a way out. She explained how the therapy worked, what I should expect to experience and how quickly I would begin to heal.  Her words and kindness helped ground me in the moment and allowed me to breathe again. When we hung up I sobbed to myself that I could make it 36 hours until my first appointment. I am now 13 hours away. 

For the first time in so many years I feel hope. I think there is a way up. I believe that I am capable of finding my why so that I can bear almost any how. My journey begins tomorrow.

xoks