A Year of Triumph

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, 51.5 million Americans reported living with a mental illness in 2019. That number represents 20.6% of the American population. As a part of that number, I've struggled with generalized anxiety disorder and bipolar disorder for many years. Like all battles, there are periods of rest; seasons of life where the symptoms lie dormant and I'm able to breathe, and connect, and live the way I want to live. I'm able to wake up in the morning, drink a cup of tea and enjoy the peace that so often eludes me. Those periods of rest can last anywhere from a week to 4 years, but they do come, and they are coveted.

I conceived my daughter in April of 2016 in the midst of a dark battle with my mind. Bloodied and beaten, I surrendered to the fact that the sun would never shine on my life again. I was taking several medications whose side-effects essentially left me bed-ridden and sick day in and day out. It felt like I was in the belly of a deep pit and I could look up and see the world carrying on at the surface, but no matter how hard I tried to claw my way out, I never could.

When I found out I was pregnant and would have to wean off those medications, my heart jumped for joy and trembled in fear. Can I function without them? I can't wait to start feeling more myself! Will my anxiety spiral even further? Finally, I won't live a life dictated by pills! To my surprise and joy, weaning off the medication was exactly the antidote I needed. It offered me a ladder to climb out of the pit I was in and start living my life in the sun again. Charlotte was born in December of 2016 and I truly believe her conception and birth were what saved me from myself.

15 months later, I gave birth to my son, Gabriel, and, for three years, my head felt clear, my heart was peaceful, and life went on as I always hoped it would. I was happy, content, and basking in the light of my new life as a mother and wife. For three years, this bliss continued, lulling me into a sense of security and making me believe I was "cured" from the genetic condition I was unaware that I could never escape.

In 2020, my battle recommenced. It began in the usual way, restlessness, unable to sleep at night, worry, dread, hot and cold flashes, nausea, numbness in my face and extremities, and so on, until I was left lying at the bottom of the dark pit once again, deflated and seemingly defeated. I wanted to quit. I wanted to roll over, bury my face in the dirt and close my eyes to the world forever. But, I couldn't do that. I wouldn't do that. I pulled myself up off the dirt floor of that pit and climbed painfully to the surface. I go in contact with the right doctor, I started taking supplements and the proper medication, and hungrily researched as much as I could about helping myself. Quitting was not an option.

Today, I am still fighting and I believe I will find rest again. I believe I will walk out of this valley and dance among the lilies beneath a warm shining sun. I've researched and learned about thousands of tools the universe has offered to me to help me succeed. Those tools, for me, include meditation, therapy, yoga, healthy eating (focusing on food as medicine and eliminating processed foods from my diet), and prayer.

I am dedicating 2021 to healing; healing from the chaos of this past year, healing from the chaos within my body, and healing from the self-doubt and negativity within my soul has been marinating. It is going to be the year I prioritize myself and make space in my life for mindfulness, gratitude, clean eating, and reconnection with nature. This year is a new chapter, a blank page with a cursor blinking at the top just waiting to record a success story. This year is mine for the writing and it is going to be a year of triumph.

“Mental Illness.” National Institute of Mental Health, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, www.nimh.nih.gov/health/statistics/mental-illness.shtml#:~:text=Mental illnesses are common in,(51.5 million in 2019).