I am so sick right now. I think it might just be the worlds worst cold, or maybe the flu. I feel dreadful and could barely lift my head off my pillow all day. My eyes are puffy little slits. My nose is running like a tap. I have been using nose flowers (aka stuffing tissue up my nose to absorb the constant drip. The ends hanging our your nose look like the carnations you made in art class when you were 7. You’re welcome for both the imagery and the ingenious tip). My skin is chapped. I am alternating between shivering and sweating – casting off the duvet one minute, wrapping tightly around myself the next. I am sneezing everywhere. I cough.

I am throwing everything I’ve got at this cold. Vitamin C. Vit D. All of the B’s. Various drops and drinks and remedies. Advil and Tylenol and even Midol. I just want to be well. I am pissing and moaning to anyone who will listen to me about how crap I feel.

Because suffering with this cold or maybe flu for 3 days now is just not acceptable!!!!

I have a point here. I am getting to it. It feels hard – because, well, stigma. That is why.

There is a big push to end the stigma surrounding mental illness. For good reason! I’ve been basically just ignoring the campaign. Staying silent. Like a complete total chump. Until right now.

Me, a person who will do basically anything to rid myself of a cold, went about 27 years before I got help for bouts of depression that lasted for months on end, and more recently crushing anxiety.  I mean, I only just recognized about 6 months ago that there was help for me, because I only just recognized that I am not well and that it is not a personal failing.

It happened after I read an interview with Sarah Silverman – a comedian I adore. I don’t remember where I read it, or even specifically what she said. What I do remember is relating completely to her story. And learning that she takes a very low dose of meds everyday to stay well, and that it works. Shortly after that a dear friend told me that meds were the best thing to ever happen to her and she could not recommend them more. Two women I admire openly taking about how these pills saved them from so much misery. It was empowering for me.

The depression started in my teens. I believed that I somehow wasn’t holy enough, or good enough, or something enough and that is why I felt so bad. That it was my fault and that I alone could fix it. It came and went. Rolled in like a storm and would roll out sometimes just as fast. There were two or three episodes that are particularly difficult to look back on now, knowing what I know. That I didn’t have to suffer through it.

Through the six month stretch in my 20’s were I wept in the fetal position in the shower every day. Or the six month stretch in my 30’s were every morning I considered how hurt my family would be if I gave into the urge to jump in front of the Go Train. Or the horrible day last winter when on my drive to work traffic came to a stop because someone had jumped from an overpass. And I related to that person. My thought was just … yes, of course.

The anxiety though… that just came out of nowhere fast and furious. It started right after I had minor surgery 2 1/2 years ago. The anesthetic really fucked me up for days on end and the worst side effect was panic attacks. The first one was just awful and my husband rushed me to the hospital because I was sure, and so was he, that I was having a heart attack. Later, I came to recognize the early signs and do my best to breathe through them praying my pounding heart out, or sometimes taking an Ativan. The anxiety got worse and worse. Circumstances contributed – stressful situations amped it up, and up it would stay. My son had to have surgery… a family member died…I got in a car accident.  I was always so level headed and calm, but suddenly I was a disaster. On a 24/7 adrenaline rush – it was hell.  I went to a Naturopath, therapy, my doctor… we debated meds many times.

Then one day on my drive to work I felt the storm coming. As soon as I got to my desk I called my doctor. I cried while I told her that I could not handle both at the same time. Anxiety on it’s own…maybe. Depression on it’s own…maybe. Not both. She called in a prescription for me that day and that night I took my first Zoloft. It did not go well. I got violently ill. We tried again, this time Celexa. I joined an online forum and by reading literally every post I knew I was going to be up against a nasty few weeks of side effects until it started to work. Two weeks of basically hell. Extreme fatigue. Nausea. Heightened anxiety. This awful feeling that I had the major shakes, but I didn’t, I just felt like I did. Mental fog. I powered through because the internet told me that I was going to be ok. And guess what?

I am better than OK. I AM FRIGGING AWESOME. I had no idea how crushing my anxiety was – until it was gone. I had no idea how much lighter I would feel. I had no idea I could feel this well. I am not in a state of bliss or anything. I am not feeling any false happiness or flatness or otherness. I still get sad. I get mad. I feel like me. Me but without a mental head cold or flu. I feel relief. My quality of life has vastly improved. My husband and kids see it. People at work see it.

If there was no stigma, perhaps I would have taken action all those years ago. Recently we had family over, and I put my pills away in my bathroom. I have only told a few people that I am taking meds. I do not have secrets from anyone… except for this.

Today with this stupid cold I realized that I am part of the problem – I have zero shame about my physical sickness, I don’t blame myself for it. I don’t consider it a shortcoming that I have a cold and am looking for any relief I can get. I consider it perfectly normal and I doubt I could find a soul on this earth to disagree.

If more people were open and honest about their mental health experiences the stigma would not exist and no one would have to quietly suffer, questioning their strength, character, being. I am not saying that meds are for everyone. There are many ways to improve your mental health. Natural ways, therapy, diet, shit tons of options. Addressing inflammation, getting more sunlight. But the meds worked for me, and this is my story.

Now, you might be shaking your head at this point asking yourself why I am writing a blog about having a midlife crisis if I am doing so damn amazing…but the thing is, it is amazing that I am having a mid-life crisis. That I care about my future and how I spend my time and how I feel and that I feel I have something to contribute and have the energy to write about it and the will to make changes for myself and my family  and to really LIVE.

So today I say FUCK YOU MENTAL HEALTH STIGMA! (In my blog, which literally one person reads. Hey…one step at a time).