A Challenging Year
Today I turn 31. My 30th rotation around the sun didn't go exactly as I thought it would. Granted I didn't have any grand plans to travel the world, move somewhere new, or do anything that would have been largely impacted by a global pandemic, but it still feels like I would have done something. Something other than primarily interact with people online and work from home full time. I don't know what I expected from 30, but it definitely wasn't what I got.
I want to start off by acknowledging just how fortunate I am, relatively. I still have my job, which I think pays well enough to meet my needs, and explore new hobbies, as well as spend more on my parents for Christmas than I ever have before. I have had the luck of not being infected by the corona virus, nor have I had to deal with the hardships of knowing anyone that has been infected either. I have lots of caring friends and am still close with my parents. This is all to say, by a lot of metrics, things are going pretty well. But that's not really what I'm writing this post about. Despite surviving the pandemic thus far, enduring a time of wildly open racism and inequality, keeping my job through a huge economic downturn, weathering the worst winter storm I've seen in Texas, and a host of other things we've all probably forgotten thanks to the breakneck speed of the news cycle over the past 366 days (2020 was a leap year after all), the thing I am most proud of surviving in my 30th trip around our star, is depression.
Depression is caused by a lot of factors. Mine was probably a mix of chemical and environmental. I hadn't been taking anything for my under active thyroid for a while. Feel free to check the link for what that can do to you. It also probably didn't help that the US seemed to be spiraling, however fortunate I was personally. What definitely didn't help was my living situation. A few years ago I moved into an apartment that at the time seemed great. It wasn't the fanciest or the newest, but it was all the space I needed, and at a more than reasonable price. Last year however, my car was broken into at a bar, and then weeks later my apartment was also burglarized. Combine that with the fact that there had been a homicide directly in front my unit in the parking lot, and I no longer felt safe. I was able to cope for a while, but I knew I had to move. But when I was finally able to get into a new place, I was still haunted by the trauma. I still felt anxious all the time. I was getting worse. It was a challenge to be productive. Focusing during work was getting more difficult. Staying in bed until 1PM on a Saturday was becoming more frequent. I hadn't been working on any projects at home. Things were getting worse, not better, but I wasn't entirely sure why.
Even before the pandemic hit, a lot of the content I consumed was online. I have a host of YouTube content creators I follow, and have a fairly well curated Reddit feed so I can cut the more toxic communities out of my line of sight. I have also nearly entirely stopped using social media in the last couple of years. I can't remember what the last thing I posted on Facebook was, and my Instagram account has been feeling the neglect for some time now. I really do think this has also helped in the long run, but it was primarily two pieces of content that really woke me up. I read this piece by Kevin Love, which I discovered while browsing /r/NBA on Reddit. I have to say, I am not, nor have I ever been, a Cavs fan, but I can say that I look up to Kevin now. This was a tough piece to read, specifically because it resonated with me so much. This man, who by all the typical standards our society places on people, specifically men, is wildly successful and was also going through something that sounded all too familiar. How could this happen to him? Isn't his life great? Why does he feel like things are so hard? It took a while for me to figure out that success has nothing to do with it. That anyone can be hit by the weight of depression. I think it was in part by the way that Jon Smith of Funhaus described his struggles in a video last year. While Jon's diagnosis of bipolar depression was different than mine, the way he described his depressed states was more relatable to me than Kevin Love's. Not because Kevin is so traditionally successful, but because Jon's life shares more parallels to mine. He wasn't working on personal projects, he was falling behind in aspects of his life, he was generally enjoying things less. Suddenly I had the perspective I needed to see what was happening to me. I am successful. I do have depression. Those things aren't mutually exclusive. And I was starting to feel like something had to be done. Needed to be done. Because I didn't want to just keep existing like this.
Let me answer the next question you probably have - I was never suicidal - which does make me better off than some. There is a long list of reasons why I want to continue living. But like I said, I was just existing, on auto pilot, and I didn't want to be anymore. It was already hard enough to keep track of time with the lock downs and quarantines changing routines so much, but throw how bad I felt into the mix and things just got worse. Existing is no way to live. But I was fairly high functioning. My work wasn't really affected until way later in the year, and I don't think any of my friends really knew until I told them. Depression can be weird like that. You might never know. But I had reached a breaking point. I had a panic attack one day while working. I'm not even sure what triggered it. I called my endocrinologist, my GP, and emailed a therapist I found through online research. I immediately had blood work done for my thyroid, a general physical, and started therapy not long after. It was incredibly difficult to get started, but I'm so glad I did.
The key was forcing myself to be accountable for these small actions. I immediately told one of my best friends about how I felt and what I planned to do. I knew I couldn't totally count on myself to be accountable, and this way I wasn't alone either. And it worked. I was able to get all of these things scheduled and done. I felt immediately better after my first session with my therapist. Not cured. That would be impossible, and probably not the right way to think about something like depression anyway. But I felt a weight starting to lift. I had more support now. Someone who wanted to help me feel better, and could help give me the tools to do so. Over the next several weeks I told her about everything going on, and we decided on additional medication to help me through this. It's been a little over 2 months now, and I feel so much better. Really. I've told more people about what I'm going through and it's helped even more. Being open about your mental health is liberating, and well, healthy. We still live in a world where having an issue of any kind with your mental health carries stigmas with it. But speaking openly about it and finding people with similar experiences to you can only help.
All of this is just because I wanted to share my experience as a man facing depression, and a person of color facing depression. If I can have the same impact as Kevin or Jon - people I admire - on even a small scale, then I want to do it. Even if this gets largely dismissed or glossed over on an internet overly saturated with all kinds of content, that's ok. Hopefully one person will read this and realize that the way you feel can be improved. That you're not just tired, or having a bad week, or still not over something. And that's ok. And it's ok to get help.
I have started working on projects again. I fixed multiple errors on my cloud hosting server that I have been dealing with for over a year. A whole year. It works now - I'm excited. I re-built my computer. I built a mechanical keyboard - and despite my wallet's protests, I'm going to do it again. I am more present and active with my friends, even if that's largely online still. I've still got work to do, but I feel better all the time.
At this point I have no idea what 31 is going to bring, and with hindsight from last year I know that I shouldn't expect anything specific. I'm going to just do the best I can to take care of myself, and know that I won't be going at it alone.
Thanks for reading.
-Sean