Depression And The Beginning Of February

For as long as memory serves, January and February have been my least favorite months of the year. I often equate February to the Tuesday of the week – it’s not the first day of the week, it’s not the middle, and it’s not nearing the end – it just offers you a look at what you have on your plate for the next few days. As for January, the pressure of the beginning of the year has always loomed heavy and I tend to find myself in a state of overwhelming angst to be doing “more” – what that more is, I couldn’t say.

This January was no different. As I mentioned in my introductory blog post, I’ve been experiencing an immense amount of imposter syndrome. I specifically dubbed it “keep-you-up-at-night and want-to-throw-up-all-day” imposter syndrome. I think the worst aspect of this, for me, is that I desperately feel the need to value myself and my work, yet with that sense of anxiety comes a paralysis in my abilities.

January is a month of too much feeling followed quickly thereafter by no feeling at all and the cycle repeats for 31 days. Then February slowly shows its head and doesn’t offer much else.

In this era of my life, I exude a sense of confidence that others take as fact. In public and online I seem to have it all together and be taking everything in stride, while the truth is that in the privacy of my own space and company I’m the antithesis of this characterization. Lacking in confidence, I force myself to get my work done each and everyday – some days planning a social feed or doing market research genuinely feels like a physical challenge. When hearing how “proud” my friends and family are of me, my gut reaction has been one of pain. If they knew how hard it was for me to accomplish these simple tasks, would they still be impressed?

In the past few weeks I’ve realized that perhaps the problem is a bit deeper rooted than just simple “imposter syndrome.” I’ve been telling myself the constant dread I’ve been experiencing will pass if I just keep pushing myself onward. Pushing myself to wake up earlier, to work more hours, take on more projects, work out, or even just “suck it up.” Something I always have to remind myself of when I get into a mode of perpetual negative affect is that this is NOT a feeling you have to live with. Misery is not a state you have to grow comfortable in – so changes should be made.

Just today I finally broke down and I told my parents and closest friends how much I’ve been struggling. The vulnerability that comes with admitting “I’m not okay” is twofold. First, asking for help is never easy, and when you’re like me – a perfectionist who in reality cares more what others think of her than she’d care to admit – the confession is like a stab to the heart as you personally shatter the image of success you’ve tried to cultivate. Second, seeking help from others requires the acceptance and self-realization that you’re truly not doing “okay” as you’ve been claiming for so long. Someone in denial of their struggles doesn’t ask for help. Point blank, it sucks.

I wear my heart on my sleeve. I’ve never been one to avoid admitting my feelings, however when it comes to needing the support of others I tend to shy away. I’m okay to disclose my struggles, so long as I feel I have a grip on them. When you’ve convinced yourself you have your ailments under control, it’s even easier to truly believe you can go it alone. It’s a rude awakening to realize you can’t.

Nor should you have to – what is the point of friendship and family if not to be the people you can turn to in a time of need?

As someone who’s dealt with anxiety and depression from age 15, been in therapy for close to a decade, and has read all the psychology and self-help books she can get her hands on, the realization that I don’t have this aspect of my character under control is always incredibly disheartening. I take my mental health really seriously and when you’ve come so far on your healing journey, its heartbreaking to feel yourself slipping again.

That same broken-heartedness causes anger, a sense of defeat, disappointment in yourself. Why can’t I just get it together? Looking on the bright side, my years in therapy have taught me that everything comes in waves, as do set backs in your healing, and I have the tools to pull myself out of a funk – maybe with a little help this time. I’m sure we can all attest to the cliché that your journey is really never complete. I’ve got a long road ahead of me, but I’m just glad I have some amazing people in my corner to help me get through it.

Like a broken-record, I’ll end with this: if you’re having a tough time, same. Go look at my social media, my life in general, and tell me: would you have known I was that low? (If you answer anything other than “no” you’re fooling yourself – I curate it specifically so you won’t see my failings, and I would argue I do a damn good job). To struggle is human, but so is to feel happiness, peace, excitement – don’t allow the good in life to fall to the wayside. I have nothing more insightful to say, other than just take care of yourself, because it can be way harder than it looks.