Asking for help

I was depressed. And it wasn’t clearing up. And it wasn’t a fleeting moment that I had because my favourite show ended, or it snowed and I would have to deal with my winter boots again.

No, this was much bigger. I’m 48 years old and so you can imagine, I have a few things going on with me – age related. It’s called perimenopause. But, like many women going through this phase in life, we feel lost and not sure who to talk to about it. There is the funny meme sharing on social media that can make you feel less alone, but it doesn’t solve the problem.

But it took me a year to finally make an appointment with my doctor. I had to sit with that and ask why? Why did it take me so long to ask for help? For the last 12 years, I have been supporting my spouses’ mental health, so I understand the signs and the repercussions of not dealing with these things when they are present. And I know the routine, who to call, what to ask, and what appointments to make. But for me, I just kept shoving my issues to the side.

I know it was pride. I mean, it’s my husband who has these issues, NOT ME. I have talked about taking care of your mental health for years, and yet, here I was, denying that I might be struggling. Maybe I didn’t want to appear “weak” or vulnerable. I don’t want people asking how I’m doing and feeling sorry for me. I already get that enough when people find out about my husband.

But it got to the point that I couldn’t ignore it any more. I made the appointment and to my amazement, it wasn’t that hard to talk about it. Well, I cried, but they understood. I was referred to a clinic that dealt specifically with women’s mental health, and the lovely team sat, listened and reassured me that I wasn’t the only one who went through this.

Being the patient was odd – I listened as they explained about things that I had heard from the other seat, the caregiver seat. But, this time, I didn’t speak. I listened. And I accepted. I accepted myself as the patient.

I cringed when I first heard them say depression, and I still stare at the little pink pill I take every morning, not fully grasping that I am taking it, but here I am. And you know what? I feel better.

The saying, you can’t take care of anyone else unless you take care of yourself…. it’s true. I was drowning and I wasn’t admitting it. I know this stage in life isn’t permanent, and it will eventually go back to normal, but for now, I need help getting through it.

It’s sometimes easy to brush aside our, the caregiver’s, own feelings and worries, because we feel that we have too much on our plate to deal with it, or maybe we find it hard to validate our own struggles when we see our loved one struggling.

The best thing we can do for ourselves is to ask for help and to seek out that support. Remember, you don’t have to disappear while you care for someone else. Your health, both mind and body are important and need to be a priority.