Wow.

When I first started experiencing depression and anxiety, the group of friends I had was split down the middle.

About half of them seemed to be going through the same thing or something similar.

Almost universally, though, the other half--the half that did not experience any kind of mental illness--spit out a lot of "Get over it," a lot of "It's all in your head," a lot of "Your life isn't that bad, stop complaining," and a lot of "Stop making excuses." There were even a couple instances of "If you were really suicidal you'd just do it and stop talking about it all the time" and "You're just cutting yourself but you're not even doing it in a way that could kill you, it's obviously just for attention."

I internalized a lot of that, and for most of the last eleven years I've been struggling with depression I have never talked about it to people I know. I convinced myself that if I was open about it, it meant I was looking for attention. I convinced myself that the inhibitions I experienced because of mental illness were simply a facet of my imagination and lack of willpower and if I actually WANTED to overcome these issues in order to get something done I would just do it.

And so once I got past my teenage years and got to where I could control my expressions of my emotions better, I just never talked about it. Even during points where I was extremely suicidal and having constant panic attacks, there were only one or two people who knew about it.

A couple years ago I started to get angry, or at least...a little bit indignant, which was the highest level of emotion I could really manage at the time. That was when I started a second blog on Tumblr, so I could have a place where I could talk about my experiences with depression and anxiety that no one who knew me well enough to judge me would see it. My first post was about my long history with depression, how much it had taken away from me and changed who I am, and how unfair it was that no matter how big a part of my life it was I still felt like I wasn't allowed to talk about it. It was like I was required to keep a huge part of myself hidden. It hurt like hell. Or it would have if I hadn't been feeling so generally numb.

Over the last couple of years I gradually worked my way up to where I could talk about depression and anxiety in more places. And then yesterday I did a scary thing: I made a Facebook post about it.

See, this month has been hard for me. It's not the worst I've been through. I'm not suicidal or anything. I just have a hard time caring about things. I don't feel connected to anyone, even my husband, even myself. I don't give a shit about things that are really important to me. I'm in the midst of changing my whole life, probably for the better, and I just can't bring myself to care about it. I'm not reading, I'm not writing, and doing simple tasks drains every ounce of energy I have. I'm embarrassed at how much time I spend lying on the couch playing games on my phone because I just don't have the energy or willpower for much else. I had a pretty bad breakdown a few days ago because I was so angry at myself for I don't even know what. I had a mild panic attack afterwards--just a few minutes of sobbing and shaking and hyperventilating and rocking back and forth. It didn't last long, but it hurt and I don't want to start having them again.

And I posted to Facebook last night saying, basically, that I usually don't talk publicly about my experiences with anxiety and depression but the last few weeks have been really hard for me and I need support because I've got so much going on that I need to push through and it's really hard to focus on it right now, let alone actually get anything done.

And I waited, fighting off the anxiety, because I knew that the responses would be mixed--sure I'd get some support, but half the people I know would probably tell me the same kinds of things I'd been hearing about depression and anxiety for years. "Get over it." "Stop making excuses." "Your life isn't even that bad, what do you have to be depressed about?"

And after about two minutes, I got a response.

It was positive. It was a friend saying that she has OCD and feels the same way about talking about it publicly, but that she was glad that I had some things to look forward to and hoped that I'd be able to find the joy in them that I deserved to.

Then my aunt commented, telling me that she went through severe depression after her second miscarriage and believed that it was possible to come out of these kinds of things stronger, and that she knew I would be able to.

Then a couple other friends, some I'm close to and some I'm not, saying that they were here for me if I needed anything.

An uncle I haven't even seen in years telling me that I was smart and strong and would be okay.

My mom, reminding me that depression runs in our family, that she's been going through it too and I can call her any time I need to talk.

Even the one uncle who usually goes out of his way to criticize me telling me that he had been dealing with anxiety for years and it was important to own up to it and things would get better.

Seriously, I teared up. I was expecting backlash. I was expecting criticism. I got so much support.

Mental illness is so isolating. Especially with the stigmas that exist against it--we're told that we shouldn't talk about it or we're just seeking attention, as if making it known to someone besides ourselves makes it all less real somehow. We're told that none of it is real in the first place. We're told that we should be able to overcome it with sheer willpower and we're just letting ourselves be miserable if we don't. It makes you feel like you have to take everything on by yourself. This illness that already makes you feel a step removed from everyone also creates this burst of voices around you screaming that if you dare to try to connect with someone you're only going to make yourself look stupid.

It took me along time to get to where I could talk about it. This was the first time I've ever said anything about my depression or anxiety on Facebook, as far as I can remember, and I was so scared to say something like that in front of my whole family and all of my friends. But the support I've gotten...well, it hasn't made me feel any less depressed or anxious. But it's made me feel so much less lonely.

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Off-topic, but I'm gonna link to my blog again because I'm trying really hard to get myself involved in it again.