I've battled with anxiety and depression most of my life, although I didn't always have a name to give these afflictions, which are inconvenient at best and debilitating at worst. There are likely various factors at work behind these conditions in my life, and no single easy remedy. I've tried many treatments, some effective, some not, and I've encountered many trite answers that just don't stand up to reality. I've also encountered love and healing in surprising places along the way. This post isn't a psychoanalysis or a plea for pity, but the opening of a discussion that I hope many will engage in, in their own way. In starting this discussion, I hope to share a few things I've learned along this journey.
Depression and anxiety take on different forms, and look different for different people.
Some people assume depression is sadness, perhaps in the extreme, but that just isn't true. Sometimes depression is the lack of any feeling, and the body feels heavy, lethargic, and unable to move in order to do the smallest of tasks. This often brings shame and frustration, which can perpetuate the cycle. Depression is also not necessarily caused by a sad event, although it can be. Life's heartaches can also exacerbate an existing condition.
During my long, dark winters living in the northeastern United States, the lack of sunlight, absence of color, the bitter cold of the climate and the culture, combined with some bad memories, contributed to what I'm pretty sure was seasonal affective disorder. Kind friends, some of my favorite music, and an intense light therapy box helped me through those years, though each winter it all seemed to get worse. I would go to work, teach my classes with all the energy I could muster, then come home, dizzy, and be good for nothing else.
Once I moved to Brazil, the utter exhaustion that I felt during that season completely disappeared, and February, once the bleakest month, became a month of flowers and wild thunderstorms that brought greenery and joy. But depression still shows up in various forms and intensities, this time, its arrival more unpredictable.
Anxiety is often the body's physical response to a situation of perceived danger--the fight or flight mode. But it doesn't mean that someone is nervous or fearful. It isn't worrying about a situation that would be common to be concerned about. Sometimes, in my case, it takes the form of inexplicable anger, uncontrollable emotion, or even insatiable itching. It can happen when everything is going pretty smoothly. I've woken up in the middle of the night from panic attacks, trembling, heart racing, even though nothing in particular had scared me in my dreams or in my daily reality.
I've also learned that I have a low toleration for loud noise and lots of sensory stimulation. Some of this may be from being a highly sensitive person. Added to this, ten years of working as a caricature artist at parties took its toll, with dark rooms and bright lights and the DJ booming music and lots of drunk adults and wild pre-teens crowding around me, loudly critiquing my work while I tried to draw as quickly and accurately as I could in permanent marker, and prepare for the inevitable fury of guests at the end of the evening when I had to shut down and couldn't draw any more. In Brazil it's common to have a DJ standing inside a supermarket or outside stores downtown, rattling off the sales of the day into a loudspeaker, and it's incredible how much that triggers me. That and screaming preachers, which are easy to hear from the streets here, sometimes four churches on the same block, with doors open and lots of wailing and shouting piercing the night.
So what should be a pleasant visit with my in-laws often sets off an internal chain reaction inside me. Combining a large, loud family, TV and/or Sertanejo music blaring, small children who have no sense of an indoor voice, dogs who are rarely walked and often nervous, barking in various houses nearby, and the screaming church across the street, all while I'm processing my thoughts from a day of classes that could have gone better, sometimes becomes too much to handle. Maybe most people can deal with all this, or at least hide their discomfort. I've managed to hide it most of the time. But sometimes a buildup of many small things will trigger a fierce reaction unexpectedly. Other times, nothing happens, and I'm fine. Most times, people have no idea of the internal battle that is going on inside me as I just smile, breathe, and keep calm, and even participate in the chatter. Everyone's battle looks different, though, whether or not anxiety is a part of it, which is why I've learned not to judge.
Feelings are valid.
I spent many years thinking I had to stop feeling certain emotions. While it's wise to evaluate feelings and ask questions about their source, it's harmful to invalidate them, shut them off, or to let them bring guilt, thinking, "I shouldn't feel this way." Learning about mindfulness was a game changer for me. This involved embracing the moment for what it was and not desperately trying to change it, living in the present and knowing that things will not always be as they are, and learning to focus on my breath or on a single piece of beauty.
Sometimes acknowledging the validity of my feelings meant representing them in art and poetry, which has been cathartic. I've shared some of these here before, and will share them again.
I am lovely and worthy of love.
It wasn't until some time after being on medication that I realized this. I was in the elevator, alone, coming home after work, and saw myself in the mirror. It was a rare moment when I allowed myself to feel beautiful, and, deep down inside I felt for the first time ever that I wasn't a contemptible waste of existence, but a radiant being, touched by the divine, and worthy of love. It was a transcendent, transforming moment.
Listen, don't judge, and lose the stigma.
In US culture, seeing a psychologist is something that people hide in shame, never mind the difficulties of actually seeing one on a health plan. Here in Brazil, however, it's not only common, it's almost boasted about, as if "my problems are so complex, they need a professional." At the same time, though, I've felt so much resistance here to expressing sadness--the culture calls for the response, tudo bem--everything's fine--and even if everything is not fine, you have to pretend it is. I think both cultures have a long way to evolve in terms of mental and emotional health.
If we have a headache or a stomach problem, we go to the doctor. If they prescribe medication, we take it. Why is there so much stigma about seeking professional mental health care? I sincerely wish I had sought it out sooner, but I thought, "I don't need that. That's for 'crazy' people. I'll never go on medication. I'll do things the natural way. I'll pray, and it will get better." It didn't get better.
A year ago, anxiety was so bad, I literally thought I was dying. Also a year ago, I presented for the first time at a BrazTESOL conference. A lot has changed in this past year. I finally got on medication. My career has taken some exciting turns. There are still major mental health issues, but I have better tools to work on them. There have been many times over the years that I've marveled at my strength, walking up the stairs to teach when I'm either racing with an unwanted, illogical surge of adrenaline or dragging from an unseen, unbearable weight. Or an odd combination of both. Teachers aren't allowed to have a bad day. We have to cheerfully engage our students, somehow. Some days are better or worse than others of course, but a special grace has always shown up for me when I needed it the most, and teaching has often energized me. Speaking front of my class when I was in school used to be terrifying. Sharing best practices with my colleagues has been the same. This July, however, I'll be presenting in another, much bigger BrazTESOL conference. The impostor syndrome will want to creep in, and the mental health challenges will show up, in unanticipated ways. But beginning to talk openly about my struggles with mental illness has empowered me, and knowing that I'm not alone has meant everything.
Be kind.
More than anything else, anxiety and depression have given me a sense of compassion for others. I noticed when my international students in Boston were struggling with culture shock, or with the same winter depression I had. I provided opportunities to talk safely about things like that, or to just let them appreciate moments of beauty and joy in a dark season. I teach young people here who are going through immense challenges at home and at school, and I try as best as I can to make English class a refuge for them, and to let this foreign language be a voice to express themselves and discover connections with the rest of the world.
If you know someone who struggles with mental illness, please be kind to them. Don't assume you know the answers. Please, please, don't preach. It's never a one-remedy-fits-all situation. Medication works for some, but not for others. Giving proper attention to exercise and diet is immensely helpful, but it doesn't cure everything. There is never a simple answer. Even people of faith can embrace the mystery of the unknown and stand in silence when appropriate. Let's all learn to listen more.
If you yourself struggle, or are just unsure, seek help. There should be no shame in seeing a psychologist or psychiatrist. They are trained professionals, and while they don't have all the answers, they can help you start to find the solutions you need.
Let's also learn to be kind to our neighbor. You never know what they're going through. Though anyone can suffer from mental health issues, and everyone's experience is valid, people of color, LGBTQ+, veterans, refugees, and other marginalized groups tend to suffer more and often have fewer resources to get help. How can those of us in places of privilege offer a hand of kindness?
I'll leave you with a song written by an extremely talented former student of mine here in São José, Lucas Simões. It's called Seguir em Frente, which means, "Move on," or "Move ahead." The chorus says,
Seguir em frente - Moving on
E caminhar ao lado do presente - And walking alongside the present
Plantar uma nova semente - Planting a new seed
Traçar uma rota diferente - Tracing a different path
Seguir em frente - (Just) moving on
Moving on looks different for everyone who struggles. But kindness and the care of friends, strangers, and professionals can help each suffering person move ahead, one step at a time. What new seeds will you plant this season?
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