Finding me (Part II)
This post is a continuation of my previous post Finding Me: not the mom-me or the wife-me. On that post, I began to share my journey after encouragement from those around me. I recommend everyone to read that post first, so this one makes more sense. Thanks for stopping by and your ongoing support!
Once I had that panic attack, it still took months for me to get some help. Weeks after that event, we began the search to buy our first home. Everyone that has bought property knows how stressful that can be. Visits to different places, communication with the lender and the hundred of documents that they need even after the pre-approval, communication with your realtor, a lawyer, money stuff and more money stuff, etc. We closed on a home by the end of September that year and at that point we began the process of moving all our belongings from one place to another. Before that, we had to paint the place and fix a few things. Very, very stressful time since there was so much to juggle. I took on the bulk of the communication with the bank and realtor, gathering the necessary paperwork and the painting of the house on top of having a demanding career and photographing weddings on my days off. I would work all day and then drive to our new home to work on painting the place with my parents, then drive back to our place to sleep.
On my days off if I wasn't shooting a wedding most of the day, I was definitely in our new house cleaning up and doing some more painting. I took on most of the work going on in our lives during that time in the hopes of helping my husband, who will be the first to say, does not deal well with change and this was a major one for us.
Unfortunately, me taking on all of that, built resentment while he struggled with the changes and his depression. Nothing was getting easier even after the move. I experienced some of my darkest times leading up to that new year and into the new year. Not long after that I had an uncle pass away of cancer and I had another uncle find out he had cancer. I was asked at work that January to take on a very complex project on my already full plate. And while outside of work I struggled to keep myself together, and myself alive... I showed up on time to work everyday with a smile and determined to take on whatever challenge came my way and do a really great job at it. It took all my energy to not let my personal life affect what was going on at work. A lot of my job during that time involved me also guiding young employees through some of the things they were struggling with themselves. And that was hard to not take with me, I care too much I am told.
My job provided me with something that I still believe sustained me through some of my dark moments, the confidence my boss had in me and the appreciation he had for the work I put in, made me feel like I was good at something. My life was falling apart, but my job gave me a spark of confidence, a little light in a very dark storm. Gave me something to still hang on to and say "I'm doing a damn great job!""Im good at this!" But I was so far gone, I had completely lost myself. I knew who Val the leader, the career woman was, the wife, the mom... but I didn't know who I was. I felt like breaking down was not an option, I had to keep it together. Even with all my accomplishments,I felt worthless, like a failure... I was drowning.
I couldn't tell you what was the last time I took time to myself. To take care of me, time to heal, to rest... I felt drained of all my reserves. I was alone also because I kept almost all of this to myself. I didn't want to worry others or I feared my love ones would not be supportive. I gave all of me to everyone else around me, my intention was always to help everyone I love and care about, but what about me? No one is going to take care of me but me!
One evening, after a major argument with my husband I called my mother and told her everything. I was a threat to myself and felt I could not be alone. I cried, she cried for what seemed like hours that night, I felt safe in her arms just like when I was a little girl. I couldn't carry the weight of the world anymore, I just couldn't do it anymore. Very soon after that, I went to see my primary care physician and began taking anxiety medication and was diagnosed with depression. With her partnership for 6 weeks, I was written a reduced work schedule of 32 hours to allow me to have enough time to find a therapist. Which was harder than I thought; took a lot of calls, research, emails, and just time away from my already full schedule. Once I found one, the hard work was far from over...
If you or a loved one is suffering from depression please seek professional help. Sharing my journey is not meant to be medical or professional advice. Im sharing this with the hope of helping others know, they are not alone. Thank you for reading.
Stay tuned for the next part in the story. Part one is here
