I Am Living With Depression And I Have No Shame

A Gift for Mom! 🤍

I am living with depression. Long term clinical depression, often labeled as a chemical imbalance in the brain. Throw a little anxiety in the mix and I can be on the verge of a panic attack all day every day. For me, it is a disease. One that is brushed off and said to be just in one’s head. It is very serious. One that effects not only my brain but my whole body. It could kill me if I let it. If I ignored it, this illness could overtake my life and slowly destroy me. I don’t want this. No one wants to be sick. In our culture, mental illness has a stigma. We don’t talk about it. The shame placed on this illness is pathetic. I have no shame. And neither should anyone else.

I have dark times. My brain can’t process things quite right. It’s as though a fog rolls over my body. Sometimes I liken it to a Dementor sucking the soul out of my body. In addition, my depression shows up in forms of loss of interest, sadness, tiredness, insomnia, and physical pain. I hurt everywhere. Aches and pains in places I didn’t know was possible. Layer this on the emotional pain and confusion I feel, I feel as though I am slowly dying.

The anger threw me for loop. Yes, my depression shows in the form of anger. I am mad at everything. The littlest thing can send me into a rage. I live in a world of frustration, bitterness, and anger. It is a lonely place to be. Depression sucks the joy right out of my life. Also, I over process. The smallest decision I must make becomes this long drawn out back and forth argument in my head. Let’s label this anxiety. I can’t make a decision and then accept whatever decision I made. My brain is so out of control that it sends my body into a panic attack. Survival mode. Flight or fight. A full blown attack that makes me feel as though I am having a heart attack. I can’t breathe. My pulse is racing and the ringing in my ears is deafening. Then my brain analyzes for days on end. This is not a fun way to live. Each day I am scared of my feelings. What was going to be thrown at me today and how was I going to handle it?

This is how I lived. Not anymore.

I was on an antidepressant in college and weaned myself off. I focused only on myself and being free of my depression. It was a full time job. However, I couldn’t keep that up. Life wasn’t going to let me do that anymore. I have been on a prescription antidepressant since January 2009. Every morning I take a little white pill. I have adjusted the dosage over the years to meet my needs. I have added counseling, exercise, and now writing to help maintain the disease. I have grown and birthed 2 babes. Nursed both of them a year all while taking meds. I was never worried of the medicine harming their little bodies. I worry more that this illness is a hereditary illness and they may have to deal with it in the future. It has helped me get through 5 moves in 7 years, a NICU visit, 4 ½ years of motherhood with an addition to Postpartum Depression. And now it is getting me through a separation and impending divorce.

I never was afraid to take an Rx. I never thought it would make me turn into someone I didn’t recognize. I knew it would bring me back. Making me ME again. It makes me stronger, steadier, and healthier. It makes me a better mom. I am not ashamed. I am not living in the dark anymore, always waiting for the next panic attack. A little pill lets me live. To my full potential. I may always have to take an antidepressant. I still have days where the dark clouds threaten to drown me. I am aware of what I need to do to fight them back and let the light shine in. Most days are good. Depression and anxiety is real. It is a disease. One that I am controlling and living with.

And I am thriving.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

depression noads

Katie Weber

Me. My two little men. My second change. Motherhood. Depression. Divorce. Love. God. laugher. Friendship. My lovely. It's all right here.

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

In: Grief

In his last years, Dad spent his days in a chair by the big picture window. From there, he could survey all the comings and goings of the ranch. He watched the weather, the dogs, and our Arabian stallion, Axum, galloping through the pines and calling to the mares across the hill. Occasionally, Dad would alert us that a certain dog had escaped or that a storm was coming in. He was looking out. He was keeping track. He needed help to move even a few steps. At night, my husband or I cleaned him, dressed him, and tucked him into...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

In: Grief

Young woman holding red umbrella walking next to canola field

Outside, the sky hung in a thick, dim slab, like a ceiling over the trees that stood crooked in the wind. Not the fresh spring breeze we’re used to in Florida, but the damp, cold kind that makes you pull your coat together with tight fists. I got there right on time, parked in a front spot in the almost-bare lot, and slid my violet boots with fluffy pom-poms onto the asphalt. I braced for the impact of the frigid air and tucked my body inward as I did a little hop-jog into the pub. Once inside, I let out...

Keep Reading

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

In: Grief, Loss

I lay in bed this morning, sweet boy. It is Saturday. Seven of them since you left. Half awake, I turned over and saw Grief staring right at me. She pounced then stood, haughty, on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. She yelled that she would be close today. If she feels like it, she might even be relentless. She is cruel. You were the reason, sweet boy, for me to get out of bed on a Saturday morning. Actually, every morning you were my purpose from the moment I opened my eyes until the moment they shut. I knew on...

Keep Reading

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

In: Grief

They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I found that to be most true when my grandma passed. Like many grandmas, she was the best. She was kind and tender, but firm when she needed to be. She gave her time freely and used her baking talent to bless others. She had little and needed little, yet she had a way of drawing people together. There wasn’t a day I can remember when someone didn’t call her or stop by. She seemed to have all the answers and somehow knew how to fix almost any problem....

Keep Reading

My Parents Will Never See This Face

In: Grief

Woman with sunglasses shown in rear view mirror

You’ve had that moment, right? That moment when you don’t recognize the woman standing in front of you. Her hair is grayer. The skin around her eyes is a bit darker. Even without noticing the small details, that face is different. It’s aged. And as I stared at her yesterday afternoon, all dolled up and nowhere to go, it dawned on me: My parents will never see this version of me. My mom will never get to see hands that look like hers. She’ll never recognize the wrinkles or the sun spots. My father-in-law joked about gray hair with my...

Keep Reading

The Due Date that Never Comes

In: Grief, Loss, Miscarriage

It is not often talked about. I completely understand why, but when going through something so heartbreaking and devastating, women shouldn’t have to suffer alone or in silence. If you’ve gone through it, you probably already know what I’m referring to – miscarriage. It is the reason many couples don’t tell people they are expecting until after the first trimester. It is so unfortunately common that one in four women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime. According to the National Institutes of Health, 15-20 percent of pregnancies will end in miscarriage, and it is the most common pregnancy complication...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living

Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

In: Grief

Woman with mother smiling in older photo

Recently, whenever I look in the mirror, I see a strong resemblance to my mother. People always said I looked like her, but I never really saw it until now. I think it may be because you always think of your parents as being older than you are. At the age of 61, I am now only two years away from the age my mother was when she died. The only good thing about dying young is that everyone will remember you that way. I have only known my mom as the vibrant, personable, and active woman she was. Well,...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

I Miss Having Parents

In: Grief

Grown daughter posing between smiling parents

I have been living with the ache of loss for so long that I truly don’t remember what it feels like not to carry it. Sometimes it rests quietly beneath my ribs, dormant and almost polite. Other times it rises without warning—on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a coffee line—and cuts straight through me. Today, it was a song. I was waiting for my coffee when “Pictures of You” by The Cure drifted through the café speakers. I hadn’t heard it in 20 years. In my twenties, it meant heartbreak—young love unraveling, relationships ending before they were...

Keep Reading

It's OK If We Don't Have The Same Beliefs - I Still Respect you

Faith

It's OK If We Don't Have The Same Beliefs - I Still Respect you

Too Sexy, Too Young

Kids

I Am Living With Depression And I Have No Shame

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Katie Weber

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

I Am Living With Depression And I Have No Shame

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like