“I feel… different. I feel like… me again.” Those words came out of my mouth, but I wasn’t entirely sure what I meant by “different” or “me.” All I knew was that something had shifted within me, and it was a welcome change.
“Yeah,” my friend Sarah replied knowingly. “The spark is back in your eyes. I was genuinely concerned about you there for a bit.”
That took me by surprise. “Concerned”? Why would she be concerned? I racked my brain, trying to recall the past weeks and months, searching for specific actions or behaviors that might have raised red flags for her. Had I really been so off my game that it warranted worry?
To be fair, I had gone through quite a bit recently. I had come out as bisexual and ended my marriage—definitely heavy stuff. But coming out is supposed to feel liberating, right? Shouldn’t it make me feel honest and empowered? Living authentically should have been enough to lift me during the stressful times of separation or when I missed my kids so much that I felt like curling up in a ball and disappearing. I had found a cute little apartment, faced no disownment from my friends and family, and even met someone special who truly understood me. Surely, all this should have made me happy, right?
Yet, I couldn’t ignore that I had been sleeping more than usual, frequently napping in the afternoons, and wishing I could just stay asleep. But I wasn’t just lying in bed all day, crying into my pillow. I was getting things done—albeit at a snail’s pace. My productivity had undeniably dipped, and I often complained about how it felt like I was working endlessly yet achieving so little.
Anxiety had crept in too. I remembered feeling a constant tightness in my chest. But isn’t it normal to feel anxious during a divorce? Even if it was amicable, which mine was, divorce is still a painful experience. I was worried about my kids, naturally. Every loving parent going through a separation does worry. I was also apprehensive about my own future. Could I manage this newfound independence? Was I strong enough?
That tight feeling in my chest persisted daily, weighing me down like a wet blanket. The smallest things would set me off into tears. My eating habits had gone haywire—I was skipping my usual healthy meals in favor of carbs. My memory, especially short-term, felt utterly shot. I’d take my kids to the skate park, and while they joyfully rolled down the ramps, I felt disconnected—waiting for some internal switch to flip that would let me share in their happiness.
During that time, my most defining emotion was the feeling of waiting for something to change. I thought my struggles stemmed from life stress and assumed they would fade as things settled down. But I never considered that I might be experiencing a genuine bout of depression. I had dealt with depression before coming out, but I didn’t think I could fall into it again afterward.
It was during my conversation with Sarah that the realization hit me: I had indeed been navigating a depressive episode. I wasn’t suicidal, nor was I crying all day or refusing to get out of bed. Yet, I was undoubtedly depressed. The contrast between how I felt that day—when she told me the spark was back in my eyes—and the preceding months of disconnection revealed the reality of my situation.
The feeling of being “myself” wasn’t anything extraordinary. I wasn’t ecstatic or euphoric; I was simply… me. However, after being trapped in apathy for so long, this ordinary contentment felt almost like a burst of joy. I questioned if I had swung into mania, given how long I had felt numb. But in reality, I was just beginning to feel better.
This improvement didn’t occur by chance. Several key factors aligned, both intentional and coincidental. My divorce was nearing completion. I had an allergic reaction that led me to cut out gluten and eat more fruits and vegetables. After discussing my fatigue and “fuzzy brain” with my doctor, she suggested regular exercise, taking vitamins, and getting to bed early. She even ordered blood tests to rule out any physiological issues.
By the time of my follow-up appointment to discuss the lab results, I had already experienced a significant turnaround. That’s when I spoke to Sarah about feeling like myself again. Interestingly, my lab results were normal, but I’m convinced there was something off with my brain chemistry during those sluggish months. Thankfully, the lifestyle changes I made were enough to restore my sense of self.
If you’re in a similar place—waiting for that switch to flip—let me tell you: you don’t have to be bedridden or feeling suicidal to seek help. I initially saw my doctor because I believed something was physically wrong with me. It wasn’t until I was on the other side of my struggles that I recognized the depression. If lifestyle changes hadn’t worked, I would have considered antidepressants, and that would have been perfectly okay too.
The takeaway? You don’t need to “hit rock bottom” before asking for support. Don’t wait for that switch to flip. Talk to a friend, reach out to your doctor, or seek help from a professional. You deserve to feel like yourself again.
For more insights on navigating life’s challenges, check out this post on home insemination. And for those interested in fertility journeys, Make a Mom is a great resource. Additionally, if you’re exploring pregnancy options, this Mayo Clinic resource is quite informative.
Summary:
In this reflective account, Jamie Taylor shares her journey of unintentionally navigating a depressive episode after major life changes, including coming out and a divorce. Through candid revelations and a gradual realization of her mental state, she emphasizes the importance of recognizing signs of depression, seeking help, and not waiting for a “switch” to flip before taking action toward better mental health.
Keyphrase: depression awareness
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