Five years ago I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder (it was MAJOR, and it was DEPRESSING and I was completely OUT OF ORDER), generalized anxiety disorder (yes, I was a little high strung…ok a lot…and…a lot of the time…and about pretty much everything), social anxiety disorder (so much for always blaming it on my introversion), PTSD (that one is a real bitch to deal with) and as if that wasn’t all bad enough, I was also gifted with something called PMDD premenstrual dysmorphic disorder (because PMS wasn’t enough, I apparently needed to super size it.) For some, receiving that info may have been devastating, but for me it was validation for why I’d endured a lifetime of low self worth, low self esteem and no self confidence….and REALLY hated parties and social gatherings of any and all types. Normal for introverts but this was extreme.
I can make fun of it now, but that’s because I have enough distance from it to see it from a different perspective. A perspective that was absolutely not available to me during the better part of my life while I was deep into the quagmire of mental health issues.
I deeply respect and fully appreciate the struggle of those who are going through any mental health issues/challenges/battles now and will absolutely hold space for any soul that reaches out to me. I get it. I’ve been there and done that. I looked into the abyss and if it weren’t for the two beautiful humans that I birthed into this world, I wouldn’t be here today. As much as I wanted the incessant torment and inner turmoil to end, I just could not leave them.
The diagnosis served as acknowledgement from a mental health professional (a psychiatrist) and an explanation of why I always felt like I was inherently and hopelessly flawed. It all tracked back to a difficult childhood that I’d kept to myself until I was in my late 30’s. I had vehemently decided I’d take it to my grave rather than ever tell anyone. Little did I know, the memories that I’d buried so deeply started to bubble to the surface and demanded to be seen, felt, heard, relived and ultimately faced and released.
Thus began the real journey… I’d been on and off antidepressants over the years (I’m med free and doing beautifully), I wrote and self published a book about my journey, I walked away from jobs – most recently my career highlight and most-money-I’ve-ever-made job (because ironically it didn’t fulfill me) with nothing other than a steadfast commitment to following my bliss – and I decided to start a coaching business from scratch. I left my job December 1, and have been busy building my business ever since.
How I desire to be of service is this:
I’ve learned to do things that I once thought were impossible. I want to help others do the same.
Depression and anxiety do not have to be life sentences, we’ve just been conditioned to think they do.
An unfulfilling job doesn’t have to hold you hostage, we just think it does.
You can’t make money by just being you. Why not?? I’m out to prove this one wrong right now.
I’m of the mindset that when I hear “you can’t do that”, whether it’s from someone else or my own mind talking trash, my automatic response now is, “Oh ya? Watch me.”
“When the voice on the inside becomes louder and clearer than the voices on the outside, that’s when you know you’re onto something good.” Dr. John Demartini.