It was during my eldest daughter鈥檚 Christmas concert that I had a suspicion something was wrong, but it would take me awhile to realize I was suffering from anxiety and depression.
Normally, I鈥檓 that mom snapping photos, cheering my baby on in the stands, but not this time.
鈥淟et me see the pics,鈥� my husband Jason asked at home later that evening.
I went to scroll through my phone and realized I hadn鈥檛 snapped any. Not a single one of Molly, 7, in her cute elf hat.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 not like you,鈥� he said.
The truth is, I wasn鈥檛 really me and hadn鈥檛 been for quite some time. I felt like a shell of my former self 鈥� numb and exhausted.
Decorating our home for the holidays seemed like way too much work.
Meeting a friend for coffee seemed like way too much work.
Having a shower or putting on makeup seemed like way too much work.
Over the years, my anxiety level had slowly crept up. This past Christmas, it was at an all-time high.
If my family was out on the road driving somewhere and I heard a siren, which happens often due to living next to the fire hall, I鈥檇 feel sick to my stomach and light-headed.
Right away, my mind would go to the worst-case scenario and I couldn鈥檛 focus on anything else until I was able to get through to them. I stopped driving further than my own community, fearing I鈥檇 get lost or in a bad car accident.
At night, I鈥檇 overthink EVERYTHING.
What if our youngest, Zoe, 5, ends up being a wild teenager and we can鈥檛 control her? Will we have enough money for their college savings? What if they go away to college and something bad happens? Is that sharp pain in my ovary ovarian cancer? Did I say too much at that party? Did I not say enough?
As you can imagine, it was utterly exhausting to be living in my head All. The. Time.
It just became way easier to be a recluse 鈥� to avoid everyone and everything.
No wonder I have been so tired. No wonder I started drinking three to four glasses of wine at night to tune out the noise. No wonder I have been such a hermit for the past two years. No wonder my body, mind and soul decided that it had FINALLY had enough over the holidays.
It was during the peak of my nightly wine habit that I began to think, maybe everyone would be better off if I just didn鈥檛 wake up. That was the first time I鈥檝e ever had a thought like that. It was enough to scare me straight.
Honestly, it wasn鈥檛 something I thought or felt during the day, but the mix of alcohol and undiagnosed depression at night was proving to be a recipe for disaster 鈥� one that was robbing me of my serenity and sanity.
Talking to my doctor took an exuberant amount of energy 鈥� I felt completely depleted and demoralized as I slumped into his chair, too tired to nag Zoe to stop climbing on the furniture.
I left with a prescription for an antidepressant for depression and anxiety with the warning that I鈥檇 feel awful the first week. He sure wasn鈥檛 kidding.
Although I was prescribed to take just half a tablet the first couple of days, I decided not to heed his advice. I took the whole damn tablet, as I was desperate to feel 鈥榥ormal鈥� as soon as possible.
Of course, I ended up feeling sick to my stomach 鈥� I had to sit down several times while we were decorating our Christmas tree from the dizziness.
As promised, the pills stopped making me feel ill after around a week.
It鈥檚 been almost two months and I鈥檓 so happy to say that I鈥檓 feeling better than I have in years, which I chalk up to the anti-depressants, new gym routine and sober lifestyle.
I wake up with pep in my step and general feeling of calmness that even the best cab Merlot could never compensate for.
Finally, I鈥檝e started reaching out to a few close friends and have been getting out of the house, enjoying activities that I used to.
I feel free.
My only regret is not getting help sooner 鈥� I鈥檝e wasted so much time, which is why I鈥檓 writing this column.
鈥淜ristyl, you鈥檙e not actually going to write about this? said my mom when I was started taking antidepressants. I don鈥檛 blame her reaction. She comes from the generation of keeping this kind of stuff under wraps.
It鈥檚 the job of our generation to blow the whistle on mental illness so our children don鈥檛 grow up afraid to ask for help.
About one in five people鈥攐ver six and a half million Canadians鈥攅xperience a mental illness or substance use problem in their lifetime. Unfortunately, many people don鈥檛 ask for help because they feel ashamed or scared. I was one of them, but not anymore.
If someone judges me or treats me negatively based on it, that鈥檚 more of a reflection of them than myself.
If you鈥檙e struggling with anxiety, depression or both, please don鈥檛 be afraid to chat with your family doctor about it. Mommas, you deserve to be happy for yourself and your families.
Kristyl Clark is a work-at-home-mom and founder of the family blogazine, . Follow her on Twitter .
