Tough People Don't Cry, Right?

I am no health expert, I don't claim that I understand mental health issues or what's going on in people's heads, but I now do understand the importance of confiding in a trusted friend or health professional. Admittedly, having frank conversations about my state of mind in this Covid environment was not easy as lot of people have been struggling and the fact that the most insincere question in the English language "how are you?" is just a meaningless phrase did not help either. 

This is a rather personal summary of my life in the past few months

I returned to work after my maternity leave in November and decided that having my daughter go to daycare during the pandemic was not safe so my partner and I decided to keep our 2 year old at home while both working full-time jobs. Our days were filled with work related madness and carefully planned schedules. I would work from 8:30am to 11am am and then take my daughter out for a walk until 1:30pm. We would have lunch and around 2pm she would take her nap so we could answer work emails, put down urgent fires etc. When my daughter decided to skip her nap, it messed up our entire work day. But mostly she would sleep till 4pm, then we would manage somehow for that one hour until one of us would take her out for a walk again while the other stayed home to catch up on work, make dinner, get ready for the evening bedtime routine. We did all of this for about nine months, with no break in between, with no family or support. Just the two of us. 

Around January, I started feeling overwhelmed at work because not only I was still a full time mom, I was also working a full-time, demanding, stressful job and it was taking its toll on my health. But I am nothing but tough so I would power through and thanks to running, I would keep sane.. for the most part.. I would take it one day at a time. Around April I had my first severe weekend-lasting depression episode, but then I would get better and then the cycle would repeat itself until one day I was just lying in my bed, hoping everything would fade out and I could just peacefully sleep forever. I had never experienced severe depression like this. Even my post partum moods were mild in comparison to that state of mind. 

I couldn't understand what went wrong and then I started noticing some re-occurring patterns - most prominently, I was on the edge all the time, feeling overwhelmed and stressed out, easily irritable to the point of aggressiveness, extremely forgetful and fatigued. I even lost my appetite which made me realize things were really bad as normally I would indulge in food like there was no tomorrow if I wanted to. In addition to my emotional and mental issues, I constantly felt as if something heavy was pressed to my chest. I would wake up in the middle of the night thinking about my client groups, my co-workers or I would dream about the never ending influx of work. I would be exhausted by the time I logged into my laptop in the morning. I thought it was all normal due to the lockdown, long Canadian winter and a kid at home but what really killed it for me were all the demands at work, the nonstop work coming my way and the continuous cycle. It felt like there was no light at the end of the very long, dark, ugly tunnel.

Came June, I had another episode of severe depression, I remember lying in bed with my daughter, forcing myself to sign her favorite song to her with a smile on my face while trying to suppress tears and panicking as a feeling of total despair overwhelmed me. Talking to acquaintances, engaging in small talk, or even listening to people chatter was exasperating. I would just stare out the window hoping something would put me out of my misery. 

Considering myself tough and strong, I didn't tell anyone in detail about these feelings I was having. Luckily one day it occurred to me to talk to a friend who had recently experienced burn out at work and she confirmed that lot of the symptoms I had were similar to hers. She told me I needed to seek help immediately. I remember pushing back saying I had meetings in the afternoon and that I could not possibly reschedule my calls, it would have just added to my already crazy work load. She gently told me again that I needed to call my doctor and then she said it again and again until I acknowledged the severity of my situation. I think it took her at least five tries until promised her to call my doctor the very same day.

And so I did. I felt ashamed and guilty because in my culture we don't really discuss mental health issues, we're tough people and sure you complain when you have issues but it's done in a humorous way, we don't talk about it in a serious manner. Also, I didn't want to bother anyone because I knew lot of people were in the same boat, juggling work and family life. To my relief, my doctor was very compassionate and understanding and recommended a treatment plan for me. I took a leave of absence from work the next day and a massive burden lifted from my chest almost instantly. I should have done it months ago I thought. I am very privileged in a way that my employer offers paid medical leave so I could take time off work without worrying about my finances. And so I'm on a recovery path now. I started eating healthy food again, I try to work out regularly as I noticed a simple walk does wonders to me and I go to therapy. Finally, I'm slowly becoming to feel myself again. 

I wish this story had a more prominent, positive or transformational spin to it. Like we are used to from books and films where the protagonist goes through a rough patch, then figure it out all and then there is a happy ending and all problems disappear miraculously. But I fear life doesn't work like that as it is a fluid process and I know for certain that there will be constant ebbs and flows. That said, what this experience hopefully taught me is that there is no shame in talking to a trusted individual about my mental health, that no work demands and job pressures can justify suicidal thoughts and that asking for help is not a sign of weakness or lack of toughness but simply a necessity required for one's survival.