Bad days happen, even to people who write newsletters and articles on how to handle bad days. It's what qualifies me to even write them, I suppose.
Bad days come with the times. Post-holiday blues are a thing, and combined with the fact that January is, statistically, the worst month of my life in aggregate, it is understandable (for those who haven't read my books, I have a "Birthday Curse" that is a really real thing. Surgeries, car accidents, hospitalization, and finding out about my ex-wife's affair -- all occurred on or around my birthday, Jan. 24).
Monday and Tuesday were emotionally the worst days I've had in a few years. Nothing bad happened per-se, but I revisited some feelings I thought I'd gotten past years ago. It wasn't intentional -- no one strolls merrily into the darkness. In fact, I did everything I could to fight it. But those of us who know what depression is all about know that you can't really control it, you can only manage it. So that's what I did. I managed to talk out what I needed to talk out, and when I couldn't talk, I wrote. I went for a run. I got out of the house. I breathed. Sometimes, I counted the minutes between panic attacks, sometimes only seconds, but bit by bit, step by step, word by word, I reminded myself that this was only a moment I am experiencing, and like every moment in life, it will pass.
And it did. It wasn't fun, mind you. In the actual moments of anxiety and pain, the future is this far-off thing that might as well not exist. But that's where you have to go back to what you know to be true. You have to rely on the training. And that training can only come during clear-minded moments.
Realizing you have a condition that must be managed is something that can only happen when you're not hip-deep in the middle of hell. People who live in hurricane-prone areas know to board up their houses and flood-proof the basement only because they've had it happen before. Fortunately for them, they get the benefit of radar and technology to give them a heads up that a hurricane is coming. Us? Sometimes, we don't get that luxury.
That's why it's all the more important to accept who you are and what you are capable of going through when you're through it, or before it happens again. Plan ahead. Prepare. Have people you know you can call to talk to. Have a plan of action. If you're prescribed medications, take the damn things and prevent the attacks in the first place.
The last time I experienced what I felt on Monday and Tuesday, it lasted for months, and resulted in a stay in a hospital due to a mental breakdown. My methods for dealing with it were avoidance, retail therapy, distraction and indulgence. I combated "down" with constantly finding new "ups." Of course, this method isn't a bad thing when you've had a rough day and need a laugh and some ice cream. But when you have clinical depression and a horrible despair sets in, its a recipe for disaster.
This time, I stayed down for a minute. I absorbed it. I let it stay instead of running from it. I asked it questions. I tried to find the source, and I was successful. I was able to confront the sources head on and deal with them. It was more than uncomfortable at times; in fact, it was agony. But I did it. And I had help, both from friends and from myself in the form of my plan.
This year, I encourage you to help yourself the best way possible: learn how to handle who you are. If you've been experiencing depression, anxiety, sadness, despair, suicidal thoughts or other dangerous feelings, please see a professional. And more than that, be HONEST about them. It's embarrassing and uncomfortable at first, I know. It makes you feel weak and incapable of handling yourself. It is scary, because you think you'll lose friends and status.
You know what's even scarier? Losing time in a hospital when you can't control it anymore. And even scarier than that? Losing life.
You don't have to rent a billboard and broadcast it to the world, or start a newsletter like I have. All you need is to directly and honestly address what is happening inside you and give it a name. Things with names are immediately addressable, and addressable things can be talked to. See a professional. Talk to a trusted friend over coffee. Write it all down first. Be honest. Call it by name. Do not hide from it. Prove that you aren't scared of it, and it suddenly loses power. It doesn't go away, it just can't control you with fear.
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