The Year I Took Control of My Mental Health.

 

2020 was a hell of a year for me.

 I was laid off due to COVID, endured a toxic relationship, and took control of my mental health. It’s also the year, I decided to put myself first by seeking professional help for anxiety and depression.

 

As much as I tried to deny it, my mental health was drastically being affected this year- like many others as we try to handle this global pandemic the best we know how. I was laid off from Enterprise Holdings, a place I worked for almost 6 years. I was making 70k+, had a company car that and didn’t have to pay for gas. On the outside, it looked like things were sweet but I was miserable there some days. So when I got the call I was laid off it was like a weight was lifted off of my shoulders because God had been telling me for a while it was time to make a change and walk in my purpose but I was afraid to make a move without a backup plan. Within weeks of being laid off, I was now going through a breakup from a toxic relationship that involved physical fights, pain and so much more. I felt like I was near my breaking point. I lost my job, my man, my sanity and I still had to be a mother and provider for my family. 

 

So for months, day in & day out I sulked around my house throwing a pity party for myself because I didn’t know what was next for me. I always have a plan but this time I had nothing. I was never worried about money and how I was going to take care of my family, because I prepared myself for rainy days years ago. As much as I spent, I was saving too so along with unemployment, my severance pay and my village I knew my financial wants and needs would always be taken care of even though my mental health was going through it. My financial lifestyle never changed but my mental health was drastically deteriorating. I was unemployed, the only provider for my son, under quarantine and not able to move around as I would like. If we weren’t under quarantine, I don’t think I would have taking things as hard as I did. 

 

There were days where I cried nonstop, days I didn’t leave my room, days I didn’t eat and days where I had to ask people to let my son come over because I needed a break and he didn’t deserve to see me this way. Those days then turned into weeks, weeks turned into months until I couldn’t hide from what I was dealing with mentally. There were days where my son would call my mom & say “she’s crying again.” It got so bad one day I texted a mental health help line and I started my message off with “I don’t know what to do.”

 

I started going back to therapy, each week for the entire summer. I would sit on Zoom with my therapist and cry for an hour each week, sometimes twice a week. I would tell her my darkest most intimate secrets, fears and weight that I have carried for years hoping that eventually it would just go away. When those therapy sessions would end, I would be right back to where I was crying and not feeling like myself. I had everything I took pride in taken away and I was forced to start over. If you know me, I don’t deal with change easily because I’m a planner so having everything change at once shook me up because I was no longer in control of those changes. I spent hours crying about situations and scenarios that never happened and probably never will just because I wasn't sure what was next for me. 

 

After five months of being unemployed, I got a new job offer. I thought that meant I was back to normal, earning a salary higher than before as a small business consultant. I thought throwing myself into my job training would keep me so busy I could ignore how I was feeling; I was wrong. My body started to tell me it needed help now more than ever. It was telling me that I care for the well-being of everyone except for me and it was time to care about myself just as much. 

 

This fall, I posted some pictures on Instagram and people commented on how beautiful I was, how happy I looked and how much I was glowing.  Not knowing I was dealing with this pain in my chest for three weeks. I kept ignoring it, I was glowing, I had a new job, I looked fine, but I felt low. Eventually, I got dressed and drove myself to the doctor. The doctor told me my blood work and EKG was normal and I was healthy on paper. So she thought it was a panic attack. I looked at her crazy, I just started a new job, I was providing for my family and I wasn’t stressed by anyone anymore. I was adamant it wasn’t a panic attack. I went home hoping it would go away. 

 

Days later, the pain persisted. For three weeks, the pain would come and go getting worse each time. I finally took myself to the ER, I described the pain as what I though was a heart attack- thanks Web MD. I asked the doctor to not send me home because I felt like I was dying, and I didn’t want to die at home with Ethan. I couldn’t breathe, my heart was racing, and the pain wouldn’t go away- I felt this way for weeks. Again, the doctor came back and told me all my vitals were fine & he too though it was a panic attack. With two medical professionals telling me they thought it was a panic attack, I decided to see my doctor again and see what she thought. 

 

After, a long talk and an even longer mental health questionnaire my doctor diagnosed me with moderate to severe anxiety and depression and prescribed me medicine for it. While it was much of a relief to know I wasn’t dying, it also overwhelming to know I needed medicine to treat my mental health. I didn’t want to deal with the stigma of having to take medicine to deal with my thoughts and feelings. What would my friends think? What would my family think? How would that affect my life as a mom? Here I was thinking what everyone would else think and not about how I felt. 

 

Within weeks of taking medicine, I was feeling as much a as normal as possible. While some days, I still have my days but I’m strong enough to know I’ve made it through 100% of my bad days and I will continue to do so as long as I continue to put myself first. Ethan deserves a mom he can be proud of; he also deserves a mom who loves herself just as much as she loves everyone else and that’s what he is getting. Eventually, I stopped taking the medicine as consistently because I began to look into other ways to treat my anxiety and depression. I do still take it when needed. 

 

I highly encourage anyone who even thinks that are dealing with any mental health issues to seek professional help. You don’t have to overcome it alone and if you ever need anyone to talk to, I’m always here to listen. I’m so thankful for my friends and family who listened to me cry and vent time and time again no matter how redundant it became. Thanks for keeping me.❤