erica

I'm 26. I thought depression and anxiety was something that I "survived without getting." Something that was more likely to happen during my teenage and young adult years (weird to think I don't even fit into young adult anymore). Anxiety yeah, I was pretty sure I had but I also was pretty sure I had good coping mechanisms.

Depression was something that snuck up on me. Something I brushed off as seasonal because I'd moved very far north. Something I brushed off as just stress. I always thought I knew what depression looked like, sounded like. That I knew how it walked and breathed.

I just thought I was not coping with the stress of adult life well enough, that if I just pushed myself a little harder and if I only had a little more willpower, I'd be able to fix everything and have time for everything and then I'd be happier.

I didn't realize what it was until it was almost too late.

But I was strong. I didn't hide. I was brave, and I told my boyfriend, my therapist, and I went to the doctor as soon as possible. We told some of our friends, I called my sister in the middle of the night. It's been what feels like an insane and impossible week.

I just remember the doctor walking me personally out of the office and staring at the cloudy sky, feeling odd. I remember the pharmacist asking "have you taken this before" and her calmness when I said no.

I remember thinking this thing in my hand should feel heavier than it does, it's so light, so small. But it feels so big. Surreal. The entire day felt surreal.

So I knew I had to do something. Something to make it feel special in a good way. Something to make it feel as big of a deal as i was.

I went home and make my favorite childhood waffle recipe from scratch. I sat with the ingredients...flour for stability and strength, vanilla for self love and gentleness, an egg for abundance and new beginnings, syrup to sweeten my mood. And I sat, and I watched the waffles in the press instead of going off and doing some chore while they baked.

Then I went out to my balcony, stared at the tomatoes growing, terrified of side effects and adjustment periods and reddit horror stories I definitely should not have looked up. I looked at the yarrow and tried to be proud that I kept trying to grow it over and over despite two years unsuccessfully.

I just tried to sit with the moment. I tried to be there. With my whole body and mind. Tried to tell myself it's okay if I didn't feel anything. That this still counted as a ritual, as something magical and spiritual and monumental, even though it was just mindfully eating waffles on the balcony.

I felt like sharing because like I said, I thought I knew what depression looked and sounded and walked like. I felt like sharing because since I haven't been able to write about it (although that is what this is), it feels like the only option is to talk about it.

The amount of shock and surprise from my loved ones...I don't know. It just made me realize that people don't know unless you tell them? Even you yourself might not realize?

Anyway. I that's what I did to try and process this new life update.