An Open Letter to those Living with Depression and Anxiety (Part III)
In 2018, I wrote my first “open letter” to coaches and athletes living with and battling mental health disorders such as depression and anxiety. A few years later I wrote a follow-up: Part II.
Now, over six years on from the original, I am here to pen the third installment, and to do so with a more general audience in mind: anyone and everyone out there who may have experiences with anxiety, depression, disorded eating, and the likes. So today, here is an update – a journal entry in my journey with mental health.
Choosing when to write a piece like this isn’t exactly planned. I suppose every few years I just find myself with something to say, something to share here with you and others. However, today I am more so writing because I have things to work out for myself, and writing is a way for me to do so.
If you have watched my development over the last handful of years – either up close in person or digitally through my writing, photos, and social media shares – you might have surmised that I have figured it out, have finally kicked my struggles and left all of my mental health worries behind me. And, to be honest, if you had asked me for yourself, I might have told you as much. Not only have I put the worst of my days long behind me, but in the last few years I have also found a way to actually be content with my life. Dare I say happy?
Sure, there have been those moments: the waves that had nearly drowned me many years ago still occassionally crash at my feet. But, generally speaking, I have found myself standing safely on shore, not treading water at sea. It is a place that I honestly never imagined for myself: a place where I am no longer neck deep in depression, disordered eating, and body dysmorphia.
But, if I am going to continue to be honest with you, I should also share that I have recently come to a humbling, and actually quite emotional realization:
The struggle isn’t over, and it likely never will be.
Folks often talk about trauma leaving scars – literally and metaphorically. I can certainly appreciate both. And, I am a man of science: what we know about damaged tissue (e.g. scarring) is that, although it may repair, it never truly heals back anew; the damage will likely always be there and visible to a certain degree.
That is depression for me: it may not be something that I actively fight on a daily basis in the way that I used to, but after nearly two decades of its presence, it has left marks that are not likely to ever be fully erased.
You know, I’ve never personally experienced alcoholism, but there is a saying that I’ve heard that resonates with me in this regard: “once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic”. I have no way to know or understand if this is true personally of course. But, it is the premise that is quite relatable to me and my own mental health. No matter how many days, weeks, months, and years recovered I might be from my darkest days, I don’t think I will ever truly be “healed”. What I am instead (and encouragingly still, I might add), is the culmination of all of the positive decisions I make each and every day to put myself in a position to be content, to be happy, and to be healthy and balanced.
I came to this realization as I reread the words I wrote six years ago. The themes in that initial open letter — exercise dependence, disordered eating, self-esteem issues, reliance on career as a distraction, feelings of inadequacy – I wrote about these things all that time ago, and despite thinking I was so much better off than I was then, I have come to realize that most of those themes still exist:
I still exercise every single day, and sometimes multiple times per day. I still have trouble eating enough food. I still identifiy myself by my profession. I still feel “less than”, well… everyone.
And, if the barometer for overcoming depression and anxiety is whether or not I have eliminated all of my insecurities and excessive coping strategies, have loosened up to “live a little” more, love myself enough to find it in me to actually love somebody else, take two or three days off per week from exercise, get out of my own head, eat a pizza now and again, not pouring my heart out into my work and passions…
If those were the benchmarks to say whether or not I have taken full control of my mental health – well, I would have to say I have failed.
But, what I have come to understand and appreciate is that my mental health is not an all-or-nothing propositon: relatively speaking, I exercise less and eat more; I tolerate and accept myself to a greater extent; I find balance between work and life. I have found it within me to keep the waters calm at all times – whether I am standing on the shore or deep out to sea, I am confident in my ability to navigate the surf around me. I now understand that “six years without an incident” doesn’t mean I am clear of my mental illnesses. “Sobriety”, if you will, from the dark side of mental illness, though, isn’t determined by counting the number of “happy” days we have. Rather, it is defined by how we choose to live our lives through and alongside of our struggles.
Honestly, the revelations of the last few weeks have been emotional in some ways. For a minute I actually thought I had won. I had thought that my time with depression was a chapter closed in this book that is my life. But, in all reality, mental health is likely to be a continual part of my life, even if it increasingly gets pushed deeper into the subplot of the story. The things that trigger me to feel emptiness, apathy, sadness, disdain – they’re all still there. It is simply up to me to choose self-control over self-medication and self-harm; it is up to me to continue to stack good decisions, good moments, and good days. And, the beauty is that over time, these choices become seemingly subconscious, taking little-to-no effort. But, occassionally there will be trying times, and those are the moments where the momentum of positivity, the establishment of well-balanced coping mechanisms, and the value of self-awareness will ultimately all prevail.
Today, I am clear on the strengths that I possess in my ongoing journey with mental health. Exercise and the outdoors are natural medications for me. Photography is the self-expression I never knew I needed; if I could paint, write, or draw, I would do that, but instead I use the camera to show you the world as I see it, and to evoke for others the feelings I experience personally. Having a dependent – my dog, Ellie – while trying and limiting in many ways, is a boon for my well-being, shifting my focus away from myself and toward her. And, a meaningful career which, too, centers around supporting others, futher shifts my focus outward in the direction of the folks that I care about.
Why share this today? Well, for starters, this is my life – I can choose to put on a front, or I can be authentic and unapologetically me. I believe that choosing the latter can (hopefully) also help make a positive impact on others who may be struggling too.
If you need help, please get it. And just remember, you are never alone.
Respectfully,
RJF
