Due to some overwhelming family drama in recent months I embarked on an unprecedented “self-care” journey.  I like to think of myself as a pretty well-adjusted person, but being hit with a proverbial avalanche of bullshit since November 2018 threw me into such deep depression coupled with intense anxiety that I knew I needed help.  I needed someone to hold my hand as I organized my thoughts, processed all the feels, and began coping with the inevitable abandonment that comes along with family conflict.  While the problems I was facing were not directly my own I was still thrust into the middle of a family divide, and I was unprepared.  And when I started to spend my days battling either crippling despair or complete numbness, I sought guidance – in every single way I could think of.

At the time I was grasping at anything that might take away my stress, trying everything I could possibly think of to get even the slightest bit of relief.  And I quickly developed what I now call “self-care burnout.”  Every moment of every day became consumed with my efforts to improve my mental health, and I began to resent it.  Each time I tried to do something even remotely related to wellness I did an internal eye-roll.  Eating a vegetable became “fueling my body.”  Going for a run became “clearing my mind.”  Sitting on the couch became “meditation.”  Reading a book became “escaping.”  Because I was applying deeper meaning to every move I made nothing was as I knew it anymore, and it (quite frankly) pissed me off.

“Why does everything have to be about fixing my life?”

“Why does every second revolve around improving me?”

“Can’t I just watch a movie or go for a walk without it having some crazy goal?”

“My goodness, I even annoy myself!”

The only cure to this burnout was time.  As annoying as it is, nothing else helped.  I tried to be frivolous and spontaneous and watch trash television and be reckless, but none of it worked.  I found that as things in my life slowed down my self-care burnout did start to subside (thankfully).  And while I am still actively working on finding things to curb my depression and anxiety, I am re-evaluating what I’ve done already.  In retrospect, there are five things I did to try and heal myself.   Some worked better than others, but everyone is different.  Maybe some of it will work for you, too.

My Step One:  Therapy

Seeking therapy was a decision that did not come easily to me.  As a millennial with a psychology degree and an inability to accept failure, dumping out my problems onto someone who’s literal job it is to judge me seemed incomprehensible.  I was scared and apprehensive and lost.  But after speaking with my best friend, I took steps to find a local psychologist and make that appointment.  And, as expected, at the first meeting I approached everything in the most clinical way possible.  I would describe an event, express how it made me feel, and then rationalize why I felt that way all in the same sentence.  I can only imagine that the therapist left the appointment feeling like she had been put through a blender, because that’s exactly how I felt.  And, also as expected, I left that day feeling self-conscious.  I was embarrassed and nervous and overwhelmed.  But I was determined to give it “the old college try,” so I made a whole bunch appointments to meet with her weekly for the next month or so.  If I didn’t give the process a real chance, then I’d never know if I’d reap any real benefits.  I am now coming up on my 5^th session and, while I am still not completely sold, I do feel better that I am at least trying to take control of my situation.  My success is TBD, but I am hopeful.

My Step Two:  Writing

Writing is something that has always been an outlet for me.  Since I was a young child it was a pastime that I cherished.  Looking back at old elementary school assignments, next to the question “What do you want to be when you grow up” I had always penciled in “writer” or “author.”  Unfortunately, after graduating from college in 2012 this once loved hobby fell by the wayside.  A corporate job took over and finding some type of work/life balance trumped all.  Until I discovered blogging.  Yep – you care currently reading my own version of therapy.  If I write down the things that stress me out or cause me anxiety not only does it become real enough for me to work through, but it forces me to face it.  I put it in the universe so I can conquer it.

My Step Three:  Reading

This one came to me by accident in a roundabout way.  One of the main reasons I knew I was depressed is because I sat down on my couch after work one evening to read, and found that I couldn’t.  The setting was perfect for me; my dog rested quietly on the porch, everything was calm in my empty house, and I had my kindle on so I could read a true crime book that I was especially excited about.  And then I realized that while my eyes scanned the sentences and tried to process the words, I could not.  Of course I knew what the words said and was able to comprehend the story, but the joy that I usually felt when diving into a good book was completely absent.  I felt nothing.  No happiness, relief, sadness, or anxiety.  I simply felt emptiness.  And this frightened me.  The only thing worse than being in despair was feeling nothing at all, and I had at last reached that point.  It was this moment that led me to strike up the conversation with my best friend about her thoughts on therapy.  And after some light prodding from her, I booked the appointment.  Now, having been in therapy for a little more time, I started reading again.  I curl up on the couch or in my bed with the very same book that brought me to that turning point that evening, and I read.  Some nights are more difficult than others when I have problems focusing, and I still don’t feel the joy I once did, but I am doing it.  It is one of my escapes from my tumultuous reality, and even if I’m not back to loving it just yet, I know I’ll get there with some amazing authors to guide me.

My Step Four:  My Body

When people say that feeding yourself healthy, nutrient dense food and getting your body moving is the best medicine, they aren’t wrong.  Sure, we’re far more likely to ignore this advice when it’s coming from a bouncy blonde in tight leggings who can’t stop talking about kale, but the information is still the truth.  From experience I know that I feel better when I eat right and exercise.  My self-esteem skyrockets, which then makes me more social and apt to try new things.  My horizons widen and my zest for life comes back.  When I look my best, I feel my best.  And sure it’s all about health and blah blah blah all that jazz, but the fact of the matter is – when I have a smaller and more toned shape, I feel like I can rule the world.  I did find it far more difficult recently to get back into any kind of regimen because I tend to eat my feelings – and I have a lot of feelings – but even making one or two small changes helped me.  I began to use my gym membership much more, increasing my visits from once a month to two or three times per week.  And I made it a point to increase my water intake.   Admittedly, my eating habits fell FAR off the wagon in the last two months (and the wagon rolled over and caught fire).  But by making small changes in other habits, I didn’t feel like a total slug.  My next goal is to clean up my diet, and I know I will be well on my way to being a more confident person.  And when I feel well, I do well, and the best revenge against people who have wronged you is to be a success.  Let that be your motivation, at least at the beginning.  Eventually you’ll learn to do it all for yourself, and there is no sweeter success than that.

My Step Five:  My Social Network

Let me tell you about a girl I knew.  The spontaneous, outgoing, healthy, fit, sexy, confident girl that used to be me.  This girl had a lot of friends.  Maybe not as many as she would have liked, but the ones she had were loyal and funny and complimented her life in the best ways possible.  She felt honored to know them, to participate in some small way in their amazing lives.  She felt accepted by them, and for the first time in her life she knew who she was.  This is the girl that I was in college.  I have discussed her in prior blog postings, and when I think of her I remember her the way I remember old friends.  She is the girl I am trying desperately to get back to.  Part of that journey is reconnecting with the people who made that girl feel so whole.  At first I had no idea how to begin rekindling these old friendships.  None of the relationships I had in college have ever truly fizzled out.  We just lost touch in the course of our busy lives.  It was easy to stay close to the people in my life when I spent the majority of my time walking to class or visiting the dining halls with them.  But now we have spread out across the State and, in some cases, across the U.S.  We have pursued different careers and began walking new paths that didn’t involve one another.  But in the age of technology, finding my people again and figuring out ways to stay linked was easier than I expected.  I started with having people over.  Not for a birthday or holiday or event, but just to sit on the couch and talk or watch a movie together.  Something about being with the people who truly defined my college years was nostalgic in the sweetest way.  We could talk, or not.  Eat, or not.  Sleep, or not.  It didn’t matter because we were together again.  And I felt a little bit of my old self returning.  But nothing compares to my next attempt at recreating my social network:  I set up a standing date with my best friend.  On the first Saturday of every month we are to meet at a local bookstore and just spend time together.  We had our first one just a few weeks ago along with another mutual friend and it was as fun and refreshing as I expected.  Reconnecting with people who not only know me, but the person I was and want to be again has proven to be a huge benefit to my life.  Being able to speak to them about what I had been going through and getting the honest, raw feedback that I’ve come to expect from them helped me more than the five therapy sessions I had attended in those recent weeks.  This is one standing date I know I will never break, because it ignited a fire in me that I couldn’t ignite on my own no matter how many self-help tactics I tried.

My point in all this is – fall in love with life again.  Fall in love with yourself.  Fall in love with whatever you need to feel whole.  Because in the end, being a good person doesn’t really matter if you are broken.  Pick up the pieces, put on some makeup, drink some coffee, and handle it.  Because nobody is going to do it for you.