Fighting Depression, continued

I don’t know how to start this other than to say: I’m here. I’m okay. I’m going to make it through.

A couple of months ago, I wrote a blog post about my anxieties around depression. I wrote about what it had been feeling like to live in quarantine, my feelings of loss and lack of routine, my sadness, my hopelessness. 

At the beginning of June, I returned to work teaching preschool with strict regulations in place as California began to reopen. And now, at the end of July, I have made the decision with my therapist to go on medical leave until my mental health improves and the overall pandemic and political environment shifts. 

Everything hurts right now. 

There’s no “but”, no follow up that will make it all worth it. This depression is happening and it is painful for me, and that’s real. It’s a struggle I’ve know for over 10 years, and it’s back in a heartbreaking way.

Last wednesday, I began my medical leave with a note from my therapist. I cried a lot. I love my job so much, I love the work I do, and I love the children I teach. But I knew I was no longer able to work in the environment of pandemic preschool life. 

I’m crying as I write this, because I truly believe early childhood education is my life’s purpose. I’m hurting so much because I know at this time in my life, I can’t teach. I can’t be responsible for shaping other minds when mine feels like fog and mist. I cannot take care of others when I can barely care for myself. And yet, I mourn.

Depression is not just about what is missing, but about what passes you by. It is not just the loss of good emotions, or a lack of motivation. It is watching your life pass by with a vacant stare, and all you want to do is cry and cry and cry.

I am beyond blessed to have a family who knows me, who knows my struggle, and who accepted me with open arms the moment I broke down. My parents caught me as I started to fall, cradling me with compassion and care.

I don’t know what’s next, but it will continue. My life will go on, because I am here and I am living and I sure as anything am not giving up.

I am at my parents right now, sleeping in my childhood bed. My walls know my cries from years ago, and my blankets welcome me back like the depression I have come to accept. I have long demolished the shame of asking for help. There is no shame for me, only love and acceptance and care.

I embrace my muted emotions as the summer dusk settles in. I cry for what I have lost. I smile through my tears because despite everything, I’m still fighting. 

It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to take a break. It’s okay to admit you’re struggling. It’s okay if none of that feels okay but I promise it is all okay.

You are here. I am here. We are loved and we are cared for by so many people. We will fight on.

With love, strength, and tears,

Rivi