The Depression Chronicles: Healing

Two years ago I wrote an article in which I described my journey of overcoming a few-year-long depression, the lifestyle changes that I introduced which helped me in the process, books I’ve read, and more.

At the moment of writing it, I didn’t know that in two days everything I’ve tediously set up for my mental well-being will fall apart again.

Two days after publishing this article, my then-boyfriend broke up with me. It happened exactly on the day on which I wrote in my journal in very tiny letters “I think I’m doing it. I think I’m really overcoming depression!”.

Wrote that in the morning full of hope and love, and when I looked at this little sentence again in the afternoon, it got smeared by the drops of overbearing pain sinking out of my body.

The aftermath

Now, looking back, I know it wasn’t so much about the fact of a breakup per-se, we weren’t a good match anyway. It was about what I allocated in him as my ally. Back then I didn’t know how to build a safe harbour within myself so I’d constantly look for another person to make me feel cared for, safe, loved, and appreciated. And that’s what he was giving me. He was a great person and supported me a lot. It was also thanks to his support, that I managed to write this little line in my journal.

So, when he decided to end things between us (which by the way we both knew was the right decision due to life circumstances), he unconsciously cut me off from the source of everything that kept me above the surface.

I found myself in a darker and deeper place than I’ve been in for the past few years. I‘ve been trying to convince myself that I’m strong and that, after all, I’d been through worse. I’ve been through grief and shattering longing brought up by death, and still, I managed to lift myself up, gather all the pieces and put them together into a functioning (and even prospering) form. It would make sense to rely on the thought that this time, too, I can do the same.

This time however was different. I remember sitting on my bed, and slowly coming to realisation that I felt completely empty. The pain that created a gaping hole in my being was only causing more and more leakage. I searched every corner of my existence, unsuccessfully. For the first time in my life, I didn’t care. I genuinely couldn’t care less — about myself, my life, and my future. All I knew was pain and exhaustion from constant fighting for life.

Now, all the willpower to stay alive that pushed me through the grief, was gone. I was well aware that I had some tools in hand and methods learned until now that could potentially aid me in getting myself out of there once again. Yet, I didn’t seem to care to do this. I said to myself “I guess I could do it all again, but I just don’t care anymore”. That’s when I almost gave up on my life.

I had hours-long panic attacks during which I genuinely thought I was dying and losing my mind, going through my days thinking that each of them might be my last because I literally had no idea how I can carry on. I developed insomnia that for a few months would allow me to get maximum of 3 hours of sleep a night. I forgot what it feels like to laugh carelessly, and I genuinely thought I will never get rid of the heaviness of the overwhelming sadness I was carrying in my heart, and which was accompanying me in whatever I was doing.

The article I’ve published back then was written just before our breakup, published right after it happened as the last gesture of reclaiming the power to myself.

Let’s jump to Now

Recently I had calls with my therapist and psychiatrist. We decided that after two years of weekly therapy meetings and everyday pharmacotherapy, I could start the process of going off meds and slowly ending the therapy meetings as well… :)

I’ve been sitting with this thought for a few days, observing how I feel about it and what it means to me. I wasn’t excited, but I wasn’t nervous either. There were a few things that would worry me slightly, but it also felt like the very right thing to do.

Would it mean that I can say I won the battle with over 6-year-long clinical depression*? I don’t know the answer to that. I know, however, that never before in my life have I felt so happy, aligned, grounded, and in love with my life (and with myself too).

So how did I get to where I am now, from the point of feeling so much sorrow that it was swallowing me, and that seemed to take all my power away so much that all I could think of was wiping my being off this planet. How do you get to the point in which you love your life more than you can express from having nearly no life energy whatsoever?

It’s been a tedious process of everyday hard work, lots of sacrifices, and learning to be even more patient, understanding, and loving toward myself.

When I say everyday hard work, I precisely mean Everyday Hard Work. There was a time in which I took healing and personal growth as my full-time job (after I had to quit the other one because being deeply depressed I wasn’t able to keep up with it). I stayed at my parents’ house and dove deep inside — to my inner world. I’d wake up every morning, and start reading, writing, meditating, and working on myself right after breakfast until the evening. I would do it every single day without fail for 3 months. At that time I also started taking meds and began the process of therapy.

In the next articles, I’ll write in more detail about the things I’ve done that helped me deal with depression, things that helped me manage anxiety with panic attacks, and how growth itself was my way of coping.

With clinical depression, I graduated from the university, studied a year at one that’s in the top 10 in the world, reached a five-figure salary, worked in and quit modeling, got in and out of relationships, adopted a dog, changed my career path, moved solo to the other side of the world, and more.

I honestly don’t know how I managed to get here. Looking back, I keep wondering where I got all this strength and willpower from in the darkest moments.

But I am here. I love my life. I love myself. And I love both the past and the future. I’m sure it’ll be immensely beautiful. I still deal with the effects of grief and the whole process that reach deep and far down to the very sense of my identity. I know the aftermath of it will be resounding in me still in the future (as Nora McInerny said in her TED talk, we don’t “move on” from grief, we move forward with it). And that’s okay.

Although a large part of the healing process has happened silently and in isolation, I am incredibly grateful for every person who supported me during the most challenging times and for those who celebrated the small wins with me.

To anyone going through this battle now — please trust in the process; you’ve got this. You’re way stronger than you think, and before you realise it, life can get so wonderful that you’ll find yourself falling for it with happy tears in the corners of your eyes. It’s possible. I’m a living example of that.

*Clinical Depression — depression ranges in seriousness from mild, temporary episodes of sadness to severe, persistent depression. Clinical depression is the more-severe form of depression, also known as major depression or major depressive disorder. Source.

Thank you for reading!

Justyna Cyrankiewicz