How are you Reader?

After sharing in last week's email about my anxiety attack and how I've been taking medication for quite some time now, I received some really thoughtful replies. I think because I live inside my head so much (hellooooooo Enneagram 4 energy), I've come to believe that everyone is talking about anxiety now. It's everywhere! It's out there!

And while it's eleventy nine thousand million times better than even my parents generation or when I was in high school and college, conversations around mental health can still feel really precious or whispered. On the other hand, the words "anxiety" and "depression" are thrown around so often in memes and off-hand comments that they really start to lose their meaning.

What rattles around inside my brain is a mixture of both, I think.

MELODY'S BRAIN: We are neither precious nor know how to whisper, so we had to come up with our own conversational style.

I have a running list of random quotes and thoughts and interesting tidbits I hear in podcasts while walking the dog which I then promptly voice-record into my phone which are then promptly mangled by the sound of my neighbor's diesel truck roaring to life.

This quote from Lyz (who writes the incomparable Men Yell At Me newsletter) feels like it carries the entire weight and meaning of the last few years for me, but it fits this conversation around anxiety and depression entirely.

When you know that others are experiencing something similar to you, the world feels less lonely.

When you hear someone describe what anxiety ACTUALLY feels like and it matches something you've gone through, the world can feel a little less scary.

When you have some form of anxiety or depression and you can name it and identify it, your path forward in the world can feel a little more clear.

When you can name or identify what you're dealing with, and you realize that anxiety and depression look nothing like what you thought they did, the world starts to seem a little smaller. You start to realize it may not be that people are angry and hateful, but that most of us are just a little broken.

Before dealing with anxiety, I assumed it would feel like being nervous. Like the butterflies and jittery nerves you get before a recital, before a first date, before speaking in front of a crowd.

At least for me, while that's not entirely off-base, it's more that I feel that way without being able to pinpoint why. When you are giving a speech, you get nervous beforehand, build some adrenaline as you start, and then have something of a come down.

With general anxiety, there's no particular end in sight. For me, it feels like I've just run a marathon, but also just took a long nap. My heart races, my thoughts are impossible to pin down. Sounds are louder, decisions feel impossible. I honestly can't drive when I'm in the worst of it. My brain starts to tell me that I'm driving in the wrong lane or everyone else is going to start swerving or I'm just going to forget HOW to drive.

Before dealing with depression, I assumed it was just feeling sadder than normal. Just like, extra sad, you know? Maybe you can relate.

Things we are told by the world at large:

• Just go to the doctor.
• Talk to someone.
• Exercise. Go for a walk. Get out in the sun.
• Choose healthier foods. Drink more water.

Journal yo. Be grateful.

Seeing this advice over and over made me believe that depression was just something you could work yourself out of with a stern talking to and some kale for breakfast.

At least for me, depression felt like a complete loss of a sense of purpose. A weighing down and numbing out of everything that had ever mattered. I didn't have the energy to get out of bed to put on a clean shirt, let alone get myself to write a damn thing down in a journal.

Besides, what would I write? Nothing mattered. What was the point of doing anything? The world felt heavy. My body felt heavy. My eyeballs felt heavy. My thoughts were empty.

With anxiety, it's like chasing down a rabid squirrel while blindfolded after having been awake for 48 hours. With depression, it felt like nothing. A blank gray space with no end and no beginning.

The world changes when you know things.

Now that I can look back and understand what I was going through, I feel a bit more capable to deal with it in the future. This doesn't mean I necessarily see it coming or understand why, but I can name it while I'm in it. I don't necessarily need a solution, I just need to give myself an entire bucketful of grace and tell my family what I'm going through so it's not so scary for everyone.

The world changes when you know things.

My kids know I've struggled with anxiety. They can name it. They know I'm on medication and go to counseling. My hope is that they will continue to know these things, that these things will feel available to them if they start to struggle. That they can say to a friend that they understand or explain what they know from my experience.

The world changes in small, mighty ways when you know things.

And when you share things with others.