« You look great! », « You look happy », « You seem to be doing well »…
For the average person, hearing these things would be positive, maybe even generate pride – particularly for someone who has been struggling. For me, they are like a kick in the gut. No, not because they trigger Anorexic thoughts. Rather, they send me reeling because how I feel is diametrically opposed to how I look.
« Can’t you see I am suffering? » I want to scream. «That I struggle to get through the day? That I still count how many pills I have at home from time to time? …Why can’t you see???? »
Depression…it snuck up on me, slowly and quietly as I was working hard on eating again. One day, I was meeting objective after objective, trying new foods and starting to gain weight. The next, a black hood had been placed over my head and I could no longer see my progress, let alone celebrate it.
Fatigue took over, to the point where getting out of bed became a challenge, where standing in the shower seemed like too much work so I switched to baths, where I counted down the hours until my day would end.
Depression started to rob me of feeling. I became numb. I turned into a living and breathing « meh » emoji, sleepwalking through life. I stopped looking forward to things and coasted through the days in a gloomy haze.
This transformation hit me hard. I have long been the energizer bunny. My energy was THE thing that set me apart from others. And now I to dig deep every day to smile, to lead, to entertain, to pretend. The pressure was high, the shame was intense.
I always viewed my Anorexia as a symbol of strength and of self-restraint. And, because that illness was visible to others, I felt a strange sense of peace that my physical appearance matched my inner turmoil.
Not so with depression. Not for me.
What to do?
- Show up at work in tracksuit bottoms and messy hair to look as rough as I felt?
- Stop eating so I could start looking gaunt and frail?
- Put away my trademark shoes and makeup?
No…
I decided to talk about it. Slowly, with my family and close friends, then to a few people I trust at work. And now, on the Blog.
What do I have to be depressed about? Absolutely nothing. I have a great job, 2 amazing and healthy girls, a loving and supportive husband, strong and powerful friendships. What…the…hell?
As someone who has always felt she had to earn everything she has: love, the right to eat, the right to relax, falling prey to depression still does not compute.
And while it is so tempting to deny, to pretend, to hide, I simply don’t have the energy to do that.
So instead of spending precious time being ashamed of something that is in no way shameful, I am taking action. I am getting a full checkup this week and am going to give hypnotherapy a try.
Time to find my batteries cause this bunny is intent on coming back.
gladiatorin4inchheels.com 
Please follow through with your intent. Get medical help – and if the first doctor you see doesn’t feel right, keep right on moving until you find one that will help. You deserve to both feel AND look well. Keep talking to those around you. Keep writing – it is therapy. I don’t put mine on my blog yet, but just writing it all out is validating. And you are right: There is NO SHAME.
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