A New Kind of Vulnerable

It was right around the time that COVID hit that I stopped sleeping. Believe me, it’s not for a lack of trying. I’ve tried almost every sleep hack in the book – guided meditation, essential oils, vitamins, whole foods, epsom baths, no screens, routine… You name it and I’ve probably tried it. But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t sleep. At first I attributed the poor sleep to pre-wedding jitters. But now that the wedding has come and gone, I’m starting to see that something else is happening…

I’ve always had trouble sleeping. I have come to accept that trouble falling and staying asleep comes with my anxiety disorder. However, this feels different. It no longer is just the delayed and poor quality sleep. Every time I take a breath, my lungs feel like they’re going to explode. I have this tightness in my chest that just won’t ease and I feel like I’m always on the verge of a panic attack. The involuntary muscle spasms have returned, which leaves me feeling like I have no control over my body. My stomach has been achy and sometimes the nausea comes on so strong, it brings me to my knees. When I eat, it feels as though my food just stays in a big lump in my stomach. The urge to constantly be picking the skin around my fingernails is back and out of control. My fingers are bloody and sore, but I just can’t stop picking. I have a dull headache that doesn’t seem to leave (this may be caused by the fact I think I need the prescription for my glasses updated, though). I’ve started having crazy night sweats and the horrible ulcers I get in my mouth have returned. These are only some of the symptoms I noticed when I tried to listen to what my body was telling me.

I feel a level of exhaustion that I’ve never felt before. It is worse than jetlag, which usually knocks me down for awhile. I don’t know how else to describe it… I have almost no energy. I’m so physically exhausted that sometimes even the slightest movement hurts. Getting a glass of water often leaves me feeling like I’ve just ran a marathon and have nothing left to give. I’m also mentally exhausted. I feel as though my brain has forgotten how to work, which I know isn’t true because I’m still breathing, but after keeping my body alive it’s like it has no capacity to do anything else. Holding a conversation has become hard, finding words and pronouncing them correctly is a challenge and concentrating on anything feels impossible… I feel like my body is shutting down when in reality, it is just telling me that something is wrong.

Anxiety is a nasty beast and it is running wild throughout my mind and body. I know that many of the things I’m experiencing are due to my anxiety. Sadly, anxiety isn’t the only illness trying to control me. The depression has hit HARD these past few weeks. The increased exhaustion and fatigue makes it feel impossible to do anything. Getting out of bed has become a real challenge because I’m just SO tired. Years ago when I had my first encounter with Major Depressive Disorder, I would block all the light from the windows in my bedroom and hide away from the world. I’ve noticed myself doing that again. There have been days where my husband will have gone to work and come home in the early afternoon to find me still in bed – days where he literally has had to help me get dressed because I was just too exhausted. I hide my inability to shower with dry shampoo, deodorant and baggy sweaters. There have been many days in the last four weeks where the depression has won which makes me feel weak, like all the time I’ve spent in therapy has been a waste.

I know I’m being too hard on myself. I mean, we are in the middle of a global pandemic. I’ve seen the world literally shut down. I could be doing a lot worse. When this all started, my biggest fear was that the agoraphobia (fear of leaving the house) would return. I have lived feeling afraid of what was outside my door before and it was a place I didn’t want to return to. Thankfully, despite everything, I’m not afraid to leave the house, which kind of blows my mind because there is actually something to be afraid of this time. But I’ve completely disregarded that as a small victory. I’m also overlooking the days I was still able to get outside and go for a walk. I’m not giving myself credit for getting the laundry done (and put away in the same day), unloading the dishwasher or mopping the floors. My previous therapist always used to tell me that an object at rest stays at rest, but an object in motion stays in motion. It’s probably the only physics related thing I can understand. He would use this to remind me that staying in bed and hiding from the world was only feeding my depression. To this day, I can still hear his voice, urging me to move – to not stay at rest forever. And I’m trying, I really am. I’m just so, so tired.

I have always been incredibly introverted. I suffer with social anxiety as well and often feel overwhelmed in large gatherings or with people I don’t know well. I enjoy decompressing at home. I enjoy being alone, which is why when we were told to stay home as much as possible due to the pandemic, I thought it would be easy. However, I now realize how important people are in my life. Like many of you, I am struggling with the restrictions COVID has brought. I no longer am able to see my therapist in person and the type of treatment I’m doing can’t be done over the phone or by video calling. My doctor has limited appointments, with most of them being done over the phone which has been a challenge too. I miss going to church and seeing my friends. I miss going for lunch with them, having games nights and the community they provide me. I miss seeing my grandparents. I miss a lot of things, but I mostly miss people, which is something I never thought I would say. I realize that this sudden change to the support system I had built here in Leduc is probably a major factor in the way I’ve been feeling. I went from seeing a team of people weekly to only seeing my husband, which, don’t get me wrong, I love my husband dearly and am so thankful for him. But I can honestly say that I was not prepared to lose my team. I know that nobody was – it has just been a really hard transition.

Being a newlywed couple is tough – it is an adjustment moving in with someone and getting used to new routines, expectations and sleep schedules. We both knew there would be an adjustment period before we got married. And for the most part, it has gone smoothly. We make a good team. I will admit, I’m still not used to the snoring, but hopefully that comes with more time. What I wasn’t prepared for was how my struggle with mental illness would make me feel as a wife.

Cam and I have been together for almost 4 years and known each other for 5. However, the majority of our relationship was long distance. In fact, we have only lived in the same town for the last 7 months. Before that we had either 3 or 6 hours of distance between us. When we first became friends, I was open about my struggles with anxiety and depression. Cam was one person I always felt safe with. As we began to date and my struggles continued, I was always totally open and honest with him about how I was feeling and how it was affecting me. There were days where he would spend hours on the phone with me just to keep my mind from the suicidal ideation. As much as I thought I had been totally transparent with him about my struggles, I never considered the fact that the majority of the time, he was only “seeing” it from a distance.

Now that we’re married (and he’s working from home the majority of the time), he sees it all. He sees the motivated Rebecca who gets the house cleaned and laundry done. But he also sees the Depressed Rebecca who can’t get out of bed, can’t feed herself or dress herself. Nothing prepared me for the shame I would feel by having my husband witness my lowest low. I have been battling extreme feelings of failure. It is painfully humbling to have to ask your husband to help you with basic self-care. I have broken down multiple times, crying to Cam, apologizing for being such a horrible wife. Because that’s how I feel. I feel like I’m letting him down – like I should be able to do everything on my own. The depression is so strong little tasks make me feel like I’ve just climbed Kilimanjaro. But then the anxiety sets in and my brain starts fighting against itself. I have laid awake many sleepless nights worried that Cam is going to leave me for someone who can do it all. I am paralyzed by the thought that my past bullies were right and I will end up alone and unlovable. The thought of this makes me want to spring up out of bed and clean the entire house just to prove I’m worthy of his love… But I just can’t get up. And that, dear friends, is a whole new kind of vulnerable.

Cam is an incredible husband and has always been so incredibly supportive. He has seen my lowest low and loves me without judgment. When my insecurity kicks in, he sits with me and reminds me that we are a team and we’ll get through this together. He reassures me that I’m not a horrible wife – that it’s only a lie my brain is telling me. He is patient, gracious and kind. He doesn’t make me feel like a failure or a disappointment. I can’t tell you how much it means to have someone see me at my worst and love me deeper for it. To have someone who will remind me of all the little wins I’ve had recently. Someone who reminds me that better days are coming, that I am strong and I’ll make it through this. Someone who reminds me that I am worthy. Someone to remind me that I’m not alone.

I think that has been the most important thing that I’ve learned through this – I’m not alone. So often I feel like this is my battle and that sharing my struggle with someone means I’m weak. I so often believe that I’m a burden. Cam reminds me that I’m not. He shows me day after day that when he said “through sickness and in health” in his vows, that he meant it. He reminds me that I don’t need to feel shame and that this is not my fault.

There is a lot of stigma attached to Mental Illness. One of the reasons I started this blog was to raise awareness, to change the conversation and to break the stigma. But I realized today that I still believe the lies that stigma tells. Stigma tells us that we should be ashamed of our illness. I have felt so much shame in the past month. Shame has become the narrative my brain repeats over and over – so much so that others have noticed.

Yesterday I had a Virtual Meeting with my Disability Case Worker and my Vocational Rehabilitation Worker. After providing them with an update on how I’m doing, they looked at me with concern in their faces and said, “Rebecca, I hear a lot of shame in your voice.” All I could do was nod my head and say, “Yes…” because they were right. I felt so much shame for admitting how badly I’m struggling. I felt so much shame for admitting I feel like a horrible wife. I felt shame for owning my story. I was so afraid of how they would respond to me admitting I feel like a failure but they responded with nothing but grace and understanding. They reminded me that what I’m going through is real, that it is tough, but that I’m strong and I’m not alone. They reminded me that they’re there to support me through this, without judgment. Most importantly, they told me I don’t need to feel shame… My illness is real, even though it’s invisible to the eye. They encouraged me to continue to own my story and not let feelings of shame add to my struggle.

So, here I am, owning my story – owning the feelings of shame and failure I’ve let run free. And I’m going to try my hardest to rewrite the narrative in my brain from one of shame to one of strength. I know that it will be easier said than done, especially since society so often tells us that we should be ashamed of our illness. But I don’t want to keep living in shame.

Mental Illness is tough, friends. If you’re struggling with the impact COVID has had on your Mental Health, know you’re not alone. I see you, I hear you and I want to tell you that you have nothing to be ashamed of. Just because we don’t walk around with noticeable signs of our illness does not make our struggle any less valid. You are allowed to feel the way you’re feeling and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise. But I want to encourage you to challenge your feelings of shame. Our struggle is hard enough without us becoming increasingly hard on ourselves. I know it is hard to push that feeling away, but I urge you try. Gently remind yourself you have nothing to be ashamed of. Your fight is real. It is valid. Let’s stop living in shame.

Keep fighting, dear ones and know that I am right beside you in this journey. You are strong, you are a warrior. Fight on, fighters.

Love,

Becca

Below are some photos that I’ve found encouraging during this dark time. I hope they bring you some comfort as well.