Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes!

A little preface here.  First, did you sing that title in your head? heheh 

Second, and on a more serious note, I've been thinking about this post for roughly three weeks. It wasn't easy giving myself permission to write about it again. Not because I'm embarrassed or think no one will believe it's true, but because depression is a sensitive topic and for good reason. If you or anyone you know is or might be struggling, I encourage you to be better than I've been -- find a counselor that truly meets you where you are, journal, sit by the lake and talk out loud to the tress or animals or whatever deity you believe in. Mine is mild, some have it considerably worse. Please seek help before you can't.

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Change can be difficult for me. I’m a creature of habit. I like routines and structure. I like things a certain way and I like the people in my life to be consistent. I am not good with spontaneity, but also dislike making plans too far in advance. If the change is something I personally am initiating, naturally I’m much better with it.

2026 has been a year filled with changes in my world with some affecting me more than I would have guessed.

Fortunately, most of the changes aren’t health related for me or anyone in my world. Albeit, everyone in my world – for the most part – is over 55 so age and life is taking its toll. *wink*

There are a few specific changes, though, that drew me down into an unexpected depression. A depression that I didn’t even recognize until about three or four weeks ago while I was in about the last third of it, I think. Even then, I pushed the notion aside because I thought I was doing pretty well with what was happening (one was even my own decision about my own life!).

I was wrong.

A Distrust of Counselors

Let’s go back a little and discuss the whole ‘getting help’ aspect of not dealing well with change.

I’ve mentioned this before, but I’ve never actually talked to a doctor or therapist to get an official diagnosis of having depression or anxiety. There are two reasons for that.

First, my lack of trust in counselors. This was born out of the three times I did seek counseling in the past. The first counselor was picked by my ex-husband. We went once and I don’t remember doing much talking. Mostly, it was the men. In my memory of it, I feel like I’m sitting lower on the couch than my ex and not being paid attention to by either.

The second time was post-divorce. The counselor I picked came highly recommended, but she was a man-hater and blamed everything on him. I don’t know all the ins and outs of psychology, but I’m pretty sure that being biased from the get go is counter productive. The kicker was finding out she was my downstairs neighbor after I moved from our marital home into an apartment.

The final time was with another recommended counselor that seemed distracted during the entire session. I don’t remember what, if anything, that we talked about.

Consequently, I rail against the idea of trying to find another counselor – or any professional in the psychology arena – to reach out to. There’s just too much of a lack of trust for me, in general. If you know me at all, you probably know that once trust is broken, so is our connection.

The second reason comes from a lack of encouragement to seek counseling when I was growing up. My parents were very active in church and, I’d say, were very religious (not fanatical, though). If there was a problem, it was implied that prayer and looking to God for guidance was the best way to handle things.

Did I ever actually ask my parents about seeing a counselor back then? No. I didn’t realize I had a problem other than being a kid, or adolescent or young adult or adult or …

Powering Through

I probably tried a lot of ways to handle what I didn’t understand back then. I ate. I drank too much once I was living on my own. I never did drugs but did have a heavy pot-smoking roommate for a while and likely had a couple of contact high moments.

I didn’t even come to understand what the bouts likely were until I was in my 60s. So, from as far back as I can recall – at least high school, if not earlier – I’ve had bouts of what I thought were just feeling really unhappy or unsettled with my life at that time. When I think about my life growing up, there is a dark cloud hanging over every event that comes to mind. It’s a sense of sadness, for lack of a better description, that shows up in my minds’ eye as a gray veil above everything.

I strongly disliked school and never had any genuine friends and didn’t stay in touch with anyone. I just kept going.

Same was true with going to church. Never made any real, genuine friendships. I just kept going.

Now, I do have to say this. I had what I thought was a best friend from third grade (we went to school and church together) until we were in our late 40s. That’s when I realized she didn’t care about me as a person, but as gossip fodder. I cut ties when I realized she was telling my personal business to others without my permission.

Anyway, I never really had anyone I could talk to about anything that was bothering me. My mother, God rest her soul, was a good mom, but I don’t recall ever feeling like it was okay to talk to her about the tough times. As I mentioned earlier, it was implied that prayer was the way to go.

So, I just kept going. I “learned” to push down all the sadness and uncertainty and anguish and self-doubt. I threw myself into my career. Pushing everything down, eating, putting on a happy face. You know, the old “I’m fine, it’s fine, everything is fine” meme.

I ate my emotions. Gained and lost weight. Got divorced. Left another unfulfilling relationship. I journaled. I tried to retire in my early 50s to be able to have my own business. That failed. I left jobs and went back in different, lower paying capacities.

I moved away from home thinking it would be a fresh start and that all the struggles would be gone. The list of things I tried is practically endless.

Nothing I tried along the way has helped. Except for this one thing.

Recognize!

I finally read something about High-Functioning Anxiety and Depression in people of my generation. That article was found and shared by my now-fiancé. I read it several times and slowly started to understand what I was dealing with.

If you want an interesting read, whether it applies to you or not, you can look it up online. The Mayo Clinic has an article from 2023, UCLA has one … there’s a lot of info now that talk about what it is, as well as some of the coping mechanisms.

Anyway, I still don’t know when this all started for me or even why. I don’t recall any kind of a traumatic event in my childhood. I don’t recall being mistreated in my childhood, or any time, actually. Never got beat up or shut in a closet or left at the gas station on a family trip.

If there’s an actual event or circumstance that left me “scarred for life,” I have no idea what it was or might have been.

There is a plus side, though.

Now, when I start to have a bout of anxiety, I have learned to step away and ask for help or let the task sit for a while before I go back.

Now, although I’m still not quite able to tell when I’m heading into a bout of depression, I have what I think might be a tell … I’ll start thinking – or saying – “I’m fine. I’m ALWAYS fine!”

I can feel it leaving when it’s done, now. That’s a big deal, believe me! Sometimes, if I’ve missed my ‘tell,’ I can glean that I’m in a bout and try to spend time alone, and that’s been helpful – at least for me.

Just ‘Cuz You Can’t See It

There’s a lot of talk, on social media and elsewhere, about health conditions or problems that can’t necessarily be seen on the outside of the body, but exist, nonetheless, for the person in question.

I know that’s true for me. Depression doesn’t show up as a D on your forehead. You don’t get an ID card for it like you do for driving. Yet, I – and thousands of others – live with it daily. We never know when it will hit, what will bring it on or how long a bout might last. For me, it lies at a low level in my head all day, every day. It is always with me and I can feel it.

Did/does my immediate family acknowledge it in me? I have no idea, honestly. If any of them saw it in me, it was never discussed. Do they think I’m making it up? No idea and that’s okay. Truly!

Are any of the people in my current circle aware of it? My fiancé is, of course, as well as my best friend. I’ve written about it a few times so, if others have read about it, they may be aware but haven’t brought it up and I’m okay with that, too. I don’t want anyone thinking they need to walk on eggshells around me so as not to “set her off!” *grin*

As one of my tattoos reminds me, it is what it is (a bit of a paraphrase).

There You Have It

So, as the unexpected changes have been coming, I’ve been doing my best to handle them. Some more successfully, if you will, than others. In the grand scheme of things, none of them are life-shattering, they are "just" part of life. I’ll find ways to handle each situation/change that works for me without inconveniencing or imposing on anyone else. What more can I ask for, right?

Cheers!