Shiny Hair Can Cure Depression

Thursday, July 5, 2012

I guess now is as good as ever to address this delicious little breakdown I've been dealing with.

I've been depressed my whole life. I know that sounds like a joke, but stay with me. It's part genetics, part personality type, and part Virgo.

I have said this before, but depression is an illogical mental sickness in that there is often no good reason to feel this way. I have a job, friends (although far away), two supportive parents (who are still married!... to each other!), a boyfriend, and even some really loyal blog readers who take time out of their busy lives to email me, the stranger from the Internet who complains about her life... on the Internet.

There was a specific day in preschool that I can remember where we were all let out to play for a little while, and I couldn't find a way to join the other kids in whatever they were doing. I felt as though they were already friends, already had a routine, and already had enough friends. I used to walk the periphery of the grassy area talking to myself, singing to myself, sitting by myself, collecting pine cones by myself, and imagining things by myself. I wasn't necessarily sad at the time, but I can recognize now the feelings of loneliness and longing for somebody who "got" me. A few times I would get really lucky and one of my parents would drive by, see me sitting by myself along the fence, and pick me up.

Depression runs like a wild pony in my family. I have it on both sides, as far back as anybody can account for. In college, I was medicated heavily for my depression after two pretty bad breakups, which landed me with my current anxiety disorders. I stopped taking the meds cold turkey (every doctor would tell you that it's the worst thing you could ever do, but I survived it), and got through everything without any severe side effects... other than the occasional ice pick headache, which is exactly what it sounds like.

After six months of being prescription drug-free, I felt myself sliding again. I saw my third therapist through my school's counseling center who suggested I try going on birth control, since my symptoms would drastically worsen the week before my period (YEAH GUYS, I AM TALKING ABOUT MY PERIOD ON THE INTERNET AGAIN). I began taking Yasmin, which, if you own a TV, you know by now that it totally murders girls. Yeah. It kills them. Girls just drop dead on this stuff. I dunno.

I graduated college and subsequently had no job and no health insurance because I live in America where they charge you a lot to go to college and then don't provide jobs. My post graduation depression crept up on me and I began giving away all of my possessions... which is, like, Step 1 in the Suicide Handbook. Eventually I tried a different birth control that made me gain 20 pounds in 2 months, break out with cystic acne, and cry over everything. I can't stress this enough. I cried over everything. Here are some of the completely illogical, but very real reasons I cried:
  • In the morning I packed myself a turkey sandwich, but by lunch time I wanted a caesar salad. 
  • I made two mock up designs for a TV show logo, and the one I liked the least got picked. 
  • I lived in Malibu part time and it was cold at night and spiders lived there. 
  • My dog looked at me the wrong way.
  • I forgot my eye liner at home.
  • I drove past my college.
  • I drove longer than 10 minutes.
  • I simply hadn't cried in a few hours.
I called the doctor, who was my mom's OBGYN, to explain to her that I wanted to murder her because she was making me want to murder things. She quickly called my pharmacy and put me back on Yasmin, and up until a month ago, I had been taking it regularly.

I guess I got scared at the idea of so many years of synthetic hormones being pumped into my body, or maybe I thought that since I am older now, I could regulate my moods more easily. And maybe I can. I know this stuff takes several months to level out again. I started taking mood balancing supplements, made specifically for women, and hopefully those will be my magic replacement pill that also gives me shiny hair.

Things aren't all bad. I can feel that thing when you know your life is on the verge of changing. Like growing pains. I can intuitively hear the ground shaking and forming whatever comes next for me. But these days and weeks and months of transition ahead are still uncertain. I'm finding myself at nearly 26 years old having accomplished not much of what I set out to do, and without any real friends nearby to help me laugh through it. Things will work out. They always do. And I'm glad that going through this helped a few of you reach out to me about your own dealings with depression. I don't regret spending a veritable shit-ton of money to spend 5 days holed up in my parents' house, crying and longing for familiarity and comfort when it was staring me right in the face.

Hopefully these gypsy universe supplements make my ovaries sing in harmony with the rest of the family band (my vital organs) (yes, I have determined that my insides started a band and are currently touring the coast), or make my hair pretty, or whatever it is they're supposed to do.

Because if you have to be depressed, at least make sure your hair is shiny.