Powerless

During my third or fourth session of therapy, I told my therapist I needed to learn how to communicate. She disagreed and said I knew how to communicate fine, but when I'm uncomfortable, I choose NOT to communicate. I sat back and thought for a while. In high school, I studied telecommunications. In college, I studied journalism and communications studies. I excelled in writing and speech courses. So maybe her assessment is more accurate than mine. I certainly have the ability to communicate. At any rate, I think I can learn to communicate better. I'd like to know that my communication is effective and I often question if the message I've intended to send is the one that's being received. 

I sit for long periods of time sometimes trying to write and can't think of anything, no matter how much I want to or how well I know the story. And other times, with little or no time to prepare, I say or write things that just seem to flow so naturally, I wonder if it was even me that said it.

A couple weeks ago I was on a Zoom call with a group I've been meeting with since near the beginning of quarantine. The topic for the evening was to share who we are yielding our power to that's holding us back from achieving our dreams and reaching our goals. For me, it wasn't a 'who' but a 'what' - depression.

I've been battling it since I was a teenager and I've tried a variety of things to deal with it. Nothing thus far has been successful, at least not for the long term. While I have good days, the depression is always there. It's not a seasonal or situational depression that some people go through during the winter, or following a job loss, or after the death of a loved one. It's a clinical diagnosis, and it's one that sometimes is all-consuming. 

A few weeks ago in therapy, I was talking about struggling to finish the first round of editing my novel and we were discussing the thoughts that fill my head. I need to do it faster. I need to do it better. No one will want to read this. No one will buy this. I'm wasting my time. I'm not good at this. The story is trash. And any other negative thing I could tell myself. My therapist has told me more than once that these thoughts are the depression talking, not me. She finished our session by telling me to write about how depression affects my writing, and I did that. To be honest, it wasn't something I'd even considered before. I knew on bad days it was more difficult to write. I knew in rough situations, I didn't even feel like writing. But I never knew the true impact depression was having on my attitude toward writing.

After writing about it, I realized that depression isn't taking away my power with regards exclusively to writing, but for a lot of areas in my life. I don't confront people. I don't set boundaries. I don't feel worthy. I don't trust easily. I've become a people pleaser at the expense of my own happiness.

When I shared in the group about how it's completely taken over my life and made me feel powerless, the words just came out. I talked about how depression is in the driver's seat and seems to be in control of everything. But then the focus of my message shifted and became about how we can take our power back from whomever - or whatever - we've given it to. There are factors of my depression I cannot change. I have a family history of mental illness, including depression and addiction. I cannot change my genetics. I cannot change the treatment options I have tried in the past that failed. I cannot change everything that life throws at me. I cannot predict how long it will take to overcome this massive hurdle.

But the power I do have is to recognize my illness is real. I can take advantage of the treatment options available to me. I can make sure to attend therapy and be as open and honest as possible. I can be diligent about taking my medication. I can reach out to friends and mentors when I'm having a bad day. I can reframe the way I approach and handle situations. I can override the negative thoughts with positive thoughts. I can commit to doing the hard work.

I completely let my guard down when these words spilled out of my mouth and after it was all said, I felt a small sense of pride. I'd allowed myself to stop thinking, got vulnerable and let my authentic self show up. I don't know if a higher power took over and was using me as a medium to convey a message. But in that few minutes, for once, I did not feel powerless. And neither are you!