A phone call.
An anxious voice reaching out, finally admitting that it’s time to ask for help. A racing heartbeat as that voice whispers the words “mental health issues” to the listening ear on the other end.
As if it’s something to be shameful about. As if a broken brain is different than a broken arm or broken stomach or broken lungs.
That my doctor would tell me that what I had been experiencing for most of my life was normal. That I was silly or “making a big deal” out of things and that this was just how life is.
This was me when I finally decided that I needed to talk to my doctor about the concerns I was having with my “mood” as the nurse put it when I called. Shame flooded my whole body when they asked me the reason for the appointment. Why? Why did I feel the need to whisper, especially since nobody was around me? Why could I hardly get out that I was concerned with how I’d been feeling and coping with life?
When I went into my appointment, my doctor validated everything I had been feeling off about. She gave me a game plan to help offset the damage my brain was trying to cause. She was the first medical professional to ever utter the words “long term clinical depression” to me. That maybe it was more than postpartum depression. I drove home after that appointment in happy tears feeling like yes, maybe there was something wrong with me, but now, now I can move forward. And it was liberating.
Have you been holding off making that appointment?
Stop doing that.
Make the call. Don’t feel ashamed. Don’t feel freaking ashamed.
A broken brain is just as important, if not MORE important than a broken arm.
Make the call.
Love Sarah XOXO