Dancing with Depression

You know how many people told me not to write this one? A lot.

I moved here to Houston, Texas 2 year ago now. I'm going into my third season here. A dance opportunity brought me here, and while I loved the experience, my first year here was a personal hell.

In all honesty I knew something was wrong before I even moved here. I was so tired and so done with life. I was tired of new opportunities. I was tired of moving and embracing change. I was tired of trying to find my place. I'm sure you're tired of the repetition, but all of that doesn't even begin to describe the depths of utter exhaustion I was feeling in my soul.

All of that aside, by the grace of God I made it here to Houston. I got settled. I got a job that I love. I was living my dream of dancing in a company. However, I was struggling more than you could imagine.

Growing up in a studio, as most of you probably know and most of you might not, you're always taught to suck it up. Blood, sweat, tears, no matter what goes down you just suck it up and push yourself farther. Sometimes life has to be like that. Yes, that can get pretty messed up. I'm not saying that mindset is completely wrong as long as you have balance and a healthy relationship with your emotions, but that is a blog for another time. That being said, I was experiencing so many things that I insisted I just push myself through. Suck it up and move on.

I was constantly tired. If I was home I was asleep. I slept the most I ever had in my lifetime. If I wasn't home I was exhausted. I was always sad. I cried by myself all the time...over everything and nothing at all. My body felt heavy and lethargic no matter what. I felt like I was in a fog. I lost interest in everything. Every. Single. Thing. Dancing, writing, reading, journaling, art, T.V., relationships, and life in general. I couldn't concentrate on anything to save my life. I was struggling to pick up choreography and recollect information.

I was drowning. I was so inexplicably sad and tired. I had felt like this many times before, though, just never this severe, I had always been able to get past it, but this time around was different. There didn't seem to be a way for me to claw myself out of this one.

I remember feeling so alone. Everyone else was living life just fine. They could function normally. I seemed to be in a different dimension or something. I couldn't handle life.

Our apartment complex has a parking garage, and as an introvert with multiple roommates in a 2 bedroom apartment I would often take my car up to the top level and sit there alone with a journal to recharge. The top level overlooks multiple Houston highways that are always busy. There was one day in specific where I had parked my car up there, and while overlooking the busy streets I had the thought of, "None of those people know that I'm up here. They don't know that I'm dying inside. They don't even know that I exist. If I wasn't here nobody would notice. Their lives would stay exactly the same. The world would be just fine. I think my struggle is pointless." I started crying my eyes out. I just wanted relief. I wanted to feel alive again. I wanted my smile to stop feeling forced and heavy. I wanted to feel the adrenaline rush when I danced again. I wanted to want things again. I wanted my mind back. But I had no clue what was wrong.

Someone mentioned the possibility that I may be dealing with depression. I knew that it ran in my family. I knew that that was a real possibility. I just didn't want to face that reality. I didn't want that to be my story.

However, I did end up going to a doctor. At the end of the visit my physician looked at me and said, "You're dealing with significant clinical depression." My heart instantly broke for myself. Something had been very wrong and I had been telling myself that I was just weak. I had been pushing myself through something that I wasn't going to be able to correct on my own. I needed help and I hadn't been getting it.

While it hurt to hear those words out loud, and it made it all too real, I was relieved to know I wasn't crazy and there was a legitimate cause for what was going on.

They prescribed me medication. I didn't want to take it. I didn't want my happiness to be dependent on a bottle of pills. I didn't want them to alter my mind or mess with who I was. Medicine for your body, casts for your bones, everything else just feels more acceptable. Medication for your brain just seems risky. I was scared.

I ended up giving in and taking them about a week after I received them. The first two weeks were hell. Everything became so much worse. All the symptoms I was having were just seeming to be magnified. I felt like I was going completely insane.

I probably should have gone back to the doctor and asked to change my meds, but you couldn't have paid me to go back again. It was hard enough to talk about the first time around. I just decided to become comfortable in my chaos (which I do not condone).

Things got better as I adjusted to the prescription. I don't think I handled the situation correctly at all, but after a few weeks on the same medication I had actually started to feel better. Things were starting to look brighter. I felt more like my old self. I began to feel normal again. I felt balanced.

I decided not to return to the company I was previously signed with due to "personal reasons" and wanting to pursue writing, which had become even more therapeutic for me. I felt that while I was trying to get my mental health under control I shouldn't commit my time and energy to a company when I couldn't guarantee it to them.

I honestly had decided to quit dance in general. I felt like I was forcing my art-form. I had no desire to dance due to the symptoms of my depression. It didn't feel genuine to me anymore.

Life had different plans for my dancing though. Through some good friends of mine asking to use me for some performance opportunities, I dipped my toe back in the water of dancing. I had a relaxed schedule, and wasn't committed full time. I would just learn dances in a few rehearsals, perform them once or twice, and that was it for the gig. I found that that worked well for me and decided that I would continue like that.

I now consider myself a freelance artist. Performing isn't my main focus, creating is. Meeting standards isn't my priority, loving the art is. Being signed isn't my goal, collaborating is.

I began using studio space to create my own combinations. I began to film them. I began to post them. I got a friend involved. It began to morph into the entire @madie.choreography account. It became its own thing. It is now my way of nurturing the art that I love and encouraging the growth of creative freedom in all artists.

As for my depression,it is now under control and maintained. I still take medication for it. I don't talk about it much in person, only with people I'm really close to. But here I am writing about it on the internet. That is freaking scary.

I wanted to share my story though, because I want other people who are walking through seasons similar to mine to know that they aren't the only ones. I don't want them to feel alienated. I want to encourage them to reach out for help. I want them to know it's okay to open up and voice it.

I was discouraged to write this post because of the stigma surrounding depression and mental health medication. My response to that is, what stigma? Why are we giving it authority? This is real life. You would be shocked at how many people in your every day life deal with this. Things we leave in the dark bring disaster.

My depression doesn't make me less. My medication doesn't invalidate me. I'm the same person I was before you knew what I struggle with.

Whether you dance or not, be encouraged that depression doesn't have the final say. Help exists. Shared struggles exist. Hope exists. Stigma doesn't get to hold its hand over your mouth. You have a voice and you deserve freedom.

If you or someone you love is dealing with symptoms of depression please make an appointment to discuss the matter with your physician. Depression is a serious matter and shouldn't be pushed through alone or masked over. Your life matters. Your health matters. Your mind matters. Discuss your situation in a safe environment. Don't put it off.

We're all rooting for you.

You are not alone.

All my love,

Madie

For facts and statistics about depression visit: https://nndc.org/facts/?gclid=EAIaIQobChMIzfifndmo5AIVC9vACh3R4A1-EAAYASAAEgI89_D_BwE