Tears creep down my cheeks as I recall my “rock bottom” story with depression and anxiety. Not a time I enjoy recalling but my story needs to be shared, in hopes of helping someone who may need this message.
Years ago, I began losing my zest for life. Favorite activities with family and friends seemed pointless. My smiles were forced and the conversation was shortened to a “yes”, “no”, or a simple nod. Sleep was all I truly wanted. I ate small bites of meals. Delicious food I had always enjoyed had no taste or appeal. Faster than usual, the number on the scale lowered each day.
Yes, I needed to lose some weight but not from choosing not to eat a full meal.
Days began to run together. Wake up, help son prepare for school, help husband prepare to leave for work, feed the dog, etc. After husband and son left the house, I went back to bed. I couldn’t find a reason to stay awake. I managed to get the house cleaning done and a few chores taken care of which allowed everything to look like usual. This went on and on way too many days.
Reaching the point of tremendous sadness, I knew I needed help. I couldn’t change on my own. Praying for help and believing my prayers were being answered, I made a major decision.
Tired of feeling odd and anxious, I called my doctor for an appointment. The doctor referred me to a professional who would be able to help with my feelings. Good start to working on my issues.
Visits with the new professional were scheduled. I attended each appointment, was prescribed medicine and given the opportunity to discuss my feelings. I only wished I knew what my problem was and why I was so sad.
The more the doctor shared that I was not alone in this situation, the more comfortable I became.
One late evening at home, feelings of despair and anxiety overcame me. I called my doctor and he suggested I go to the emergency room right away. I wasn’t suicidal or anything like that. I was just tired of being depressed. I had hit my “rock bottom”.
Conversation with my doctor and my husband led me to realize I wanted help and wanted it now.
I agreed to be admitted and receive help from professionals.
This was not the way life was supposed to be for me and my family. I shouldn’t be in a part of the hospital for people with mental health issues. But, that didn’t stop me.
I wanted to feel better and if this is where I would get help, I would stay.
Kissing my husband goodbye for the night, I was led to another wing of the hospital. I wasn’t afraid. I was thankful to be getting help and hopefully would be feeling better soon.
The next morning, I was transferred to another section of the hospital, where I met compassionate, caring staff who were ready to listen and encourage.
I stayed in the special wing of the hospital for almost a week. Each day brought a new group and individual conversations. Each day brought hope that I would be out of my dark place soon.
When I was discharged from the hospital, I felt much better and had the skills to help with my depression and anxiety. Medicines were prescribed and I am thankful for the doctors, nurses, and caregivers. I am very thankful for my faithful husband and family.
Asking for and accepting help was a major decision. Not worrying about what anyone else would think or say about me was key. My mental health issues affected my family and me. I needed to get help.
If you are in a feeling of hitting “rock bottom”, please ask for help. Contact your doctor or mental health professional. You do not have to handle this on your own. Please know that we are all unique and our mental health situations are different.
You are not alone. I am praying for you. God bless you.
Melissa Henderson is a writer of inspirational messages through fiction, non-fiction, devotions, guest blogs, articles and more. Her first children’s book “Licky the Lizard: was released in 2018.