Depression Killed My Garden

Depression killed my garden.

Something I loved and treasured. Something I watched grow each day, that I nursed and took pride in. Something that brightened my morning, and warmed my heart. Depression killed my garden.

This is a post I have wrestled with making for many months now. Actually, probably since I first made this blog. You see, I made this blog to encourage people. To build people up and to show that you don't have to be perfect to share yourself with the world (and because I really enjoy writing..hehe). You don't have to be perfect to be unashamedly and wholeheartedly...you. However I hid something that affects me daily, I didn't want to admit to it. I didn't want people to know. I knew talking about mental health is important. I knew it could help people, and show people that there's nothing to be ashamed of, and that they're not alone. Yet there is such a stigma around mental health in our society. It's something people keep hush-hush. Something people feel shame and embarrassment about. Something parents will tell their kids they shouldn't talk about. Something people don't want to open up about because they're afraid of...what exactly? Judgment? For being a completely normal human being and experiencing a bodily malfunction akin to diabetes? However 40 MILLION Americans over the age of 18 are diagnosed with depression and anxiety (national institute for mental health)...that's 18% of the population! That's such a staggering number, and each one of those 40 million have an experience and a story to tell. So why is it so hard to admit to struggling with these health issues?


But this is me taking my stand against mental health stigma and hoping to change people's attitude toward the subject. To show people that it's okay to open up about these things, and that it may even help you to release it, or someone else to hear it. It's my hope that someday, it will be no more uncomfortable to talk about than any other issue. There is no shame in not being perfect. There is no shame in struggling. There are different levels and varying severity to these illnesses, and there's no shame in managing symptoms in the way that is best for you. I found it so easy to tell people when I had a tumor pop up in my back, or that I had broken a bone, yet it's almost impossible for me to admit this? For me to admit that I am engaged in a daily struggle with anxiety and depression.


Living with these...conditions...for lack of better words, is like living with a monster inside your brain. One that can and will take over at any given time. I've described it before as if I spend my life trying to walk up the "down" escalator...I feel frustrated, and tired. I feel ashamed, because I could have just gotten on the "up" escalator like a "normal person" (which, feelings of guilt for feeling depressed or anxious when you have an otherwise "good" or "blessed" life are extremely common!) but instead here I am, running up the down like a fool, feeling like everyone is looking at me wondering why I make it so hard on myself. And then wondering if I really am doing it to myself. And feeling guilty. And more tired. It's constant work, and when I "take a break", I slide down to the bottom, which is not a place where I want to be.

I know what it feels like to feel as if you're a ghost in your own body, going through the motions of your day completely disconnected. For even the simplest things to become exhausting and overwhelming. Or to have a panic attack out of nowhere. To be perfectly happy, laying in bed beside my loving fiance, and out of nowhere, my body is on full alert, asking him if he's planning to leave me. Or wondering how anyone could really love me. Or wondering if the alarm is set, or if someone might try to break in. Or if there's going to be a nuclear war. Or if he's healthy. Or if the animals are healthy. Or if all of my friends secretly hate me and I'm the butt of everyone's joke.

Like in a horror movie, when someone is walking down a hallway and the scary music starts playing, preparing you for a jump scare. Except I'm at my job, trying to serve drinks, there is no jump scare coming. I'm just trying to live my life. Yet this alarm in my head is going off, raising my pulse, making my body hot, making it feel like someone is sitting on my chest and I can't breathe.

It's like living with a cruel and unusual punishment. Because you know you have a good life. You know you're blessed with loving an supportive friends and family, a job, a place to live, food in your stomach. That you don't have the struggles many other people have in their lives, yet you're experiencing this slow erosion of yourself. Some days, it's a huge part of me...it controls what I think. What I say. What I do, or rather, can't find the energy to do. And other days, it sits quietly in the corner and let's me go about my business uninterrupted.

If and when I do open up to people who aren't super super close family or close close friends, about these things, I usually get something like 'I would have never known!' And I think that's the biggest motivation behind finally writing this post. Is that you don't know what someone's struggles may be behind closed doors. And you don't know who might be going through something similar to you. You're not alone, people you're close to or admire or love might be struggling too, and you wouldn't even know it because people so often feel ashamed to admit these things. There is still hope for a happy life. There is no need to feel guilty. Mental illnesses are beyond your control and don't make you any more self centered, any more weak, any less valid, than someone who has broken a bone, or has the flu.

And I know it can be rough to hear people saying you just need to "cheer up", or spend time outside, or spend time with friends, or get a hobby. That it's "all in your head", that you're being dramatic only furthers your sense of guilt. Because these issues are so much more than a few bad days. They're so much more than feeling 'down in the dumps', or being upset because A or B happened and it's bringing you down. It's feeling like you wouldn't mind ceasing to exist, when it's a beautiful day outside, your best friends just invited you to a BBQ, all of your bills are paid, and your loving partner is waiting at home for you with a smile on their face.

Depression, and it's companion, Anxiety, killed my garden. That I loved and cherished and tended to each day. And my plants stayed dead in those pots, overgrown with weeds and mangled together for weeks. But today, I dumped those pots into my compost pile and in time, they will become fertilizer. And I will use that fertilizer in the Spring to help my new plants grow and become beautiful and strong. And I will start my garden over. Depression may have killed my garden, but it didn't kill my love for gardening. Nor did it kill the possibility of starting anew.

The reason I wrote this post, aside from encouraging people to talk about their mental health, to reach out to friends and family and to get help if you feel that you need it. To show people that there isn't shame in struggle and that you're not alone, and to give people ammo to fight against internalized stigma...Is to tell you that I can speak from experience and say that your struggles, whatever they may be, don't need to define you. Setbacks will happen. There is no quick fix. But often times the best things in life don't come easy. Remember that you are worthy. Remember that although your garden may be dead right now, the possibility of planting new flowers is not.

Depression may have killed my garden, but it didn't kill my love for gardening. 

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If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, please visit this Suicide Prevention Resources page. 

If you need support, please call the Suicide Prevention Hotline at 1800-273-8255

Please feel free to reach out to me if you want a friendly ear to listen. My E-Mail is always open. Jl.whitacre@yahoo.com