On March 9th, as I swallowed my very first SSRI, I promised myself that I would blog about depression — not for sympathy, whinging or because I’m a closet exhibitionist, but because I had absolutely no idea I suffered from it. To me, feeling down, negative about everything and apathetic about most things was a normal way of life, and I dare say I’d be defensive about the latter two adjectives. I didn’t see myself as negative, and “apathetic” never entered into my mind. I was the way I was.

Unfortunately, the “way I was” affected a lot more than just myself: my wonderful husband, for example. My friends. My family. My business. My home life.

And so, after a particularly painful conversation with my husband, I had a chat with my doctor. I set out to change many things about my life — perhaps, in hindsight, too many at once — and I also consented to depression medication (after some initial, internal resistance), because if one small pill could help me finally straighten my life out, wasn’t that worthwhile? Old Danielle said no, stuff the pill, leave me alone, anti-depressants are for weak people that can’t solve their own problems. New Danielle tried to be more open-minded about it, because the words “depression” and “apathy” explained SO MUCH about life as she knew it. Also, she was very tired of Old Danielle.

Surprisingly, New Danielle won. That was eight weeks ago. I present to you my five most meaningful revelations from this process of depression treatment, as a part of ProBlogger’s latest Group Writing Project, in the hopes that someone will read and recognize the above, and benefit from the below.

5. Treating a problem is not a sign of weakness. Ignoring a problem is.

I grew up as the eldest son daughter of a man who prized strength and hid his weaknesses. My emotional reactions were discouraged, and “sucking it up” was something drummed into me for years. As there were no boys in the family, I sufficed, and as I grew old enough to be of use, I became an assistant, a pack mule and a professional mover. I don’t know many girls who have helped to move multiple pianos, multiple mattresses and a 500-pound copier upstairs and down.

I tried never to show weakness, admit weakness, and held very biased, uninformed opinions on the merits of medication — sure, I knew some people who really, genuinely needed anti-depressants, but I certainly didn’t count myself among them. More so, I despised the thought of having a “syndrome”. I thought of it as a crutch, something people say to excuse their undesirable behavior, and avoid having to deal with their problems.

Looking back on it now, I feel utterly foolish. Truly, as some folklore suggests, having the true name of something gives you power over it. I have a word now, depression. This word explains almost everything I’ve felt, wondered, questioned and suffered over the past decade (or longer, probably since high school. Thirteen years? Fifteen?) This word gives me power over my problems because it defines them. I understand them now, these feelings, these experiences, and now that I know them, I know how to spot them. I can find them, avoid them, avert them.

I am not weak. I am powerful.

4. I am not a victim of my own life. I can work steadily toward changing the things I don’t like about myself.

As explained above, the way I viewed my life was skewed: a series of problems, due to X, Y and Z, which I needed to fix. The problem was, I never could fix them. I tried, I failed, I got discouraged, I gave up. Life had me by the heel and dragged me along with it. There was nothing I could do, in the long run. Situation hopeless.

When I was diagnosed, I didn’t know how to feel, really. I was upset. I felt confused. At the same time, something small inside whispered, “Could this be it? Is this all that’s wrong with me? Could the answer be so simple?” It was hard to believe. It seemed so easy. I mean, when is life this easy? This simple? Just take a pill, and start feeling better?

Guess what? I took a pill, and I started to feel better. I never felt “up”, but within a few days, I felt motivated. Clear-headed. Problems suddenly seemed a more straightforward, and most importantly, solvable. Here’s a few examples:

• My weight is a problem, so I walk as often as I can, working up to daily exercise. I’ve never been able to get a routine going like that, ever. I try to eat less. I’m taking vitamins and trying to eat better.
• My business has taken over my life, and that’s a problem. Around the time of my diagnosis, I took over office space from a friend. I organized my life into work hours, and off-hours. I no longer work all the time, and stress about work when I’m home trying to relax.
• Our things have never been fully unpacked, sorted and minimalized, since we’ve moved. I’m working to correct that.
• Our debts are a problem. I’m working more efficiently, and planning a steady pace that will allow us to pay down some debt, and hopefully take a long-overdue vacation this year.

I don’t have to feel helpless, or hopeless. I can work towards my goals, and feel accomplished at my progress.

3. My life does not suck. The people making my life harder than necessary suck.

These are the things I don’t talk about in public, but suffice it to say, certain people cause unnecessary stress in my life. I gave everything I had, and left myself with nothing. Instead of blaming them, I blamed myself, and life in general. Rather than recognizing that people in my life had unhealthy dependencies on myself and my time, I hated my life. I felt despondent.

A few weeks after I started my treatment, I was able to say no to a ridiculous request, without nearly as much angst as I used to feel. (It really was a ridiculous request, not to mention impossible. Even still, these things would make me feel insufficient.) Later, I felt something completely new: anger. I was frustrated at the people causing my stress, instead of being frustrated with “life”! I haven’t had many more profound moments than that one. It felt good to place the blame where it belonged, instead of taking it upon myself!

I am my own person, and I choose not to allow others to dictate my life, my time and my activities. It’s not my life that is at fault, it’s the fault of those wreaking havoc upon it.

2. It is worthwhile to care about myself.

I feel funny admitting this, but here’s how I used to talk to myself: Any feelings I might be feeling are to be ignored and disregarded. That’s that. I’d get into depressed funks, and then get mad at myself for being there… despite not being able to retreat! I care deeply for those close to me, but I never cared for myself a bit. I was most apathetic about my own self, my well-being. (This is why I failed at forming positive habits, changing things I didn’t like, etc.) I cared deeply and gave generously towards anything, as long as it wasn’t myself. I could justify any present for my husband, but could scarcely talk myself into a bottle of nail polish or anything else I didn’t “absolutely need”.

I’ve realized that taking care of myself is okay. I’m an okay person and worth caring about. Meeting my own needs is not selfish. It’s okay to rid myself of things that cause me stress, and it’s okay to take personal time (although luxurious, relaxing baths are still out of the question and a Complete and Utter Waste of Time. Sorry. I’m a shower girl, through and through.) It’s okay to let people help me. If people fuss over me, it means they care, and I shouldn’t immediately leap to a “kill” response. (I still don’t like being fussed over, but I’m um, working on that. A little. Kindof.)

I am worth a tiny amount of self-love. I do not deserve self-apathy.

Both the most profound, and the most obvious and simple, my biggest revelation is this:

1. Feeling depressed and negative is not “normal”. I don’t have to feel this way every day.

I never dreamed that I could feel, if not happy, well, on a daily basis. I feel cheerful, upbeat and positive — not overly cheerful, not spastic, not hyper — and I like feeling this way. I get down at times, situations stress me out, and when I return to that place of darkness, I don’t like it there anymore. I don’t feel I belong there anymore. I don’t have to be there. I can be here, where I feel pretty good.

And now that I’m here, I think I’d like to stay.

This is a hard subject to discuss like this, and I hope some of it made sense. My “revelations” feel interconnected, and I feel that I’ve left out a bunch, but these are the major ones. I’m sure I’ll see more things as time goes on. I’m going to keep walking forward, wrestling myself out of my own clutches, day by day.

Thanks for reading.