It's Bad

I stared at this page for 20 minutes before I started writing. I honestly didn't know how to begin. How do you start a post about depression? It's not something that is easy to talk about and, honestly, some people don't want to hear about it. To put it simply, it's bad. Not the person, but just depression in general. It's a bad thing that people have to deal with. Nonetheless, it was a part of my story.

The first thing you should know about depression is that the person who is depressed often doesn't know they are depressed. It's nothing that anyone ever wants to admit to themselves. I wrote about having depression before- but that was some evil drugged up monster from my days in the isolation hospital that I barely remember. This was different.

I was tired all the time. I thought I was sick with a flu or something. I barely left my bed- only to use the restroom, eat food (not very often), and go to class (even less often). I had stopped showering regularly (about every three days compared to my normal once a day) and I cried all the time- but never in front of anyone and I'm not even sure what about. But I remember there was a lot of crying. And I hid it well. Eula and Caitlin were completely unaware. They would ask me to come out with them and I would just make excuses until finally they stopped asking. I slept all the time- probably only awake 5 or 6 hours a day. And I took ambien at night because I had slept the day away. It was bad.

The first time I was told I was depressed was by my sister, Brandan. She and I had gone to dinner together at the Hula Hut. She was the first person with whom I was honest. I started by telling her I didn't know what was wrong with me- I was crying all the time, slept all the time, didn't want to eat, and just felt sick in general. I can still remember exactly what she said, not that it was a complex sentence. She said, "Bean, you may have depression". She said she had seen it in someone else close to her and this was exactly what it had looked like. I laughed at that. My mind went No way- you don't have depression. Depression is really bad and you are not really bad. And I said that to her. She told me that it was bad. Everything I had just told her was bad. I had lost weight from not eating and stopped caring about doing anything. That's bad. I started laughing again until I began tearing up. And that was the first time I thought that I might have depression.

That night I went home and laid in bed again. Brandan told me I had to tell Mom and Dad. She said that I needed help and it wasn't something I could do on my own. I did not want to tell my mom and dad because I felt stupid for having depression. Why couldn't I just be happy? Why can't I choose to be happy? It was frustrating. So I called Mercedes instead. I told her what Brandan and I had discussed and she agreed with B. I had to tell Mom and Dad. So finally I called.

I need to preface this with the fact that my mom and dad are fully supportive of me and everything that I had to deal with in depression. But when I first told them, they didn't understand. They had never dealt with depression and never really been explained how it worked. So when I called them crying and saying I thought I had depression, they kind of went - what are you talking about? I had been hiding it from everyone, including them, so they were completely blindsided. They just didn't understand what I was saying and I wasn't doing a good job explaining it to them. Also, I don't think any parent every wants to hear that their baby is depressed. I got frustrated and upset with how they were reacting so I hung up and called Mercedes again. She helped calm me down and then called Mom and Dad. My mom was in Austin the next day.

Now I have no idea what Mercedes said to them to make them understand what was happening to me, but I am so grateful that I had her. She talks with people who deal with psychological problems for a living so she was able convey what depression really was to my parents who didn't understand. I was so lucky to have people who understood what depression was instead of hearing me say it and then ignoring it because they didn't know what it was or how to help.

So my mom stayed in Austin with me for two weeks while my dad held down the fort at home. Enough to get me to start showering and eating again. She went to all of my classes with me and got me back to normal sleeping hours. She was so amazing, I can't even begin to describe. She was literally with me 24/7 for two weeks- leaving Florida and anything she was supposed to be doing to come take care of me. I was put on antidepressants to help me feel better. But it's never an instant fix and sometimes antidepressants aren't enough. It's not like I woke up one morning and said "I'm happy! I'm cured!". I soon had to go to Cincinnati for my regular check up and saw Mercedes for the first time since I had admitted to being depressed. One night it was just Mercedes and I awake and I broke down to her. I told her that I was tired of everything. Tired of being sick or broken all the time. I told her something that I have never told anyone else. I said that if I got really sick again, I didn't think I would fight back. I was tired of fighting illnesses and didn't want to do it anymore. I look back at that now and I hate that I thought that. It's not who I am. But depression does awful things to a person.

So here's my spiel: If someone ever tells you they are depressed, they need you. It's bad. They need you to understand and not brush it off. And there are things that you should and shouldn't say to them. They don't want to hear "it'll be okay" (because they don't see that right now) and "cheer up". What they do want to hear is "you are important", "what can I do to help", and "I'm here for you".

Foggy Times

The last post featured both hips. But in between those surgeries, there was another... experience. When I went back to school in August, my vision started becoming blurry. No, not blurry, foggy. Initially, I assumed it was something to do with my dry eyes. However, after a trip to my ophthalmologist, he was like "daaayum Gena, you got cataracts". Well that's what I heard at least. I'm guessing he probably broke it to me in a much kinder, easier way, but that's what I like to think happened since I don't actually recall it. Cataracts is a foggy film that covers part of your eye making it difficult to see. Usually, people don't get this until they are pretty old. But guess what caused mine? Steroids- shocker! Because steroids are the devil.

So we set up a time to do one eye and then the other- one in August, one in October. I did the first one at this amazing hospital in Austin. I have no idea which one it was, so don't ask Austinites. They even had these hospital gowns that had pockets in them that they blew warm so that you didn't freeze. Also, we did the surgery ON MY BIRTHDAY. So they fixed up a room with lights for me and sang! I think they felt really bad for me. So this was probably the nicest hospital I have ever been to. The surgery went really well and I woke up from my surgery and offered to drive, like you do when you've been sedated. Keep in mind I was on crutches with a fresh hip replacement for my right hip and could literally not drive. Physically impossible. My mom gracefully declined. I don't remember this happening.

I wore an eye patch for a week and went around talking like a pirate because why the hell not. Finally, the patch came off. OH. MY. GOD. The first thing I said was "There is no way in hell I should have been driving". I'm pretty sure I could have been certifiably blind. Like I couldn't read signs or really see the lines on the road- especially in daylight. I spent the next few days shutting one eye and then the other. My new, cataract-free eye had the most vibrant colors I had ever seen! I couldn't get over it! When I went back, I asked the doctor if the colors were always this vibrant and I had just gotten used to the cataracts. He told me that, as people age, they slowly lose the vibrancy because they very slowly get cataracts. Basically, I had eyes of a newborn and it was brilliant (haha pun). So all you people reading this- you are missing out on the vibrancy! But don't worry- one day you too can get your cataracts removed.

Naturally, after the first eye, I got the second eye because is was still hella foggy. This time I had the surgery done at a different hospital. It was not my birthday, they did not have awesome warm hospital gowns, and it was rather lackluster compared to the other hospital. Then, while they were doing the surgery, something must have happened because I suddenly became aware of what was happening. My eye opened and was very blurry. I said something out loud- I have no idea what- and then my doctor said to me "Genevieve, I need you not to move your eye please". I said okay and then promptly went back to sleep. So that was horrifying. I'm going to preface this next part with a) I do not remember this and b) sedation can seriously alter your personality. APPARENTLY, I woke up and then started telling the nurse about how horrible their hospital was and all the great things about the other hospital. So yeahhhhh. I felt pretty bad about that in retrospect.

And yes- I again offered to drive. My mom said no.