A mental health issue of Discovering Bulloch. That I get to be a part of. Helped to plan and execute (along with the wonderful Linsay Rudd!). If you had told me that I would be in this position when I was in my early 20s, I never would have believed you. 

That’s when my anxiety was at its peak. I was getting ready to graduate college, living with my then boyfriend (now husband), and working for a manager who was my best friend, despite a pretty significant age gap. 

She admitted that she put a lot of pressure on me — because she was thinking that her job would one day be mine. That wasn’t the path I was taking, and she had to remind herself of that. But it took talking to my doctor and a Zoloft prescription to help slow my thought process down into a state that I could absorb information without an immediate reaction. 

My manager would send me off to do tasks on my own, without her or without the group I worked with. What I saw as punishment, or isolation, was actually immense trust and confidence in me. It wasn’t until she caught me crying while rearranging a display that she explained that to me. With the help of Zoloft, I was able to slow my thought pattern down, and see through those future assignments, realizing that she wasn’t mad at me or upset — she knew she could rely on me. 

When my husband and I got married in 2011, she and I were no longer friends and that job was a major source of stress in my life. But Jason and I had decided to start trying to have a baby, so I needed to come off of the Zoloft. Years passed without conceiving, and I realized that I was putting so much pressure on myself because of the infertility struggles. 

Add to that the changing of jobs, loss of friends, death of family members that were close to me and the grief that goes along with it. I poured myself into volunteering outlets that made me feel important, valued and needed. 

Somewhere along the way, I got back on medication — this time for ADHD. It helped, but when I changed jobs again, I needed to go onto my husband’s insurance, and Vyvanse was too expensive! The Adderall I was given instead didn’t help. 

Anxiety and ADHD in women can go hand in hand, or sometimes even be misdiagnosed. So, I started anxiety meds again. I also stopped taking the sleeping pills I’d been taking to quiet my brain at night for almost a decade. The medication combo I’m currently on (Valium and Prozac) does wonders for me. 

But when I no longer had the outlets that made me feel important and needed, I once again felt lost.  

Relying on me, or having a lot of confidence in me, has become a theme in my life. While it makes my people-pleasing heart happy, it also means that I put a lot of pressure on myself. 

Suddenly, it felt like no one relied on me. No one trusted me to get things done. I was struggling. Along with the loss of what I’d replaced parenthood with came an immense sense of longing to have a baby again. But as those years passed, I had aged, and I was no longer sure I wanted to have a baby. (Did you know that after 35, you’re considered a geriatric pregnancy? That’s just rude!) But everyone around me was sure I needed one.

And the pressure on myself came back — pressure I had no control over. If I felt pressured to complete a task at work, all I had to do was put my head down and do it. It might involve some research, some extra hours, but I’d do what it took. 

Unfortunately, I don’t have any control over the way my ovaries work, and I couldn’t control my body and force it to get pregnant. (And even if I could through IVF, I couldn’t force the money to appear in my bank account, or force insurance to cover it.) But people didn’t understand. I felt — and sometimes still feel — like a failure. 

When I first moved over to DMC, I missed the in-depth work conversations I’d had with my manager, Kristi, at Plank & Tile (Kristi, if you read this, we need a lunch date! I miss you so!) and the no-judgement, no-nonsense friendship I’d developed with my coworker, Shera. 

Ironically, I missed the friendships I’d made at the Herald when I was at Plank & Tile. 

But I’ve realized that some friendships are for a reason, and some for a season. I’ve got friends who I still go to lunch or brunch with from both of those former workplaces. And I’ve got two wonderful friends that came out of the volunteer organization that I know are in it for the long-haul. 

I recently had lunch with a friend I’ve had for over 20 years, Jodi, and attended a concert with another I’ve known since elementary school — a reminder that friendships can fall stagnant and revitalize just when you need them to. 

I needed to see Jodi a few weeks ago and hear about the wonderful things going on in her life. She mentioned that she’d started attending church, and it tugged at me to be more mindful of my Sunday mornings. I’ve not yet ventured out to church, but I’ve watched the sermons on YouTube. 

We talked about our past mental health struggles and how they’d affected us both over the years. We had a long discussion about babies, and some doubts I’d been having. Trump is supposed to be making IVF more accessible for people; does that mean I should take advantage? I’m almost 40! I’ve tried so long; am I a hypocrite if I don’t take the chance to do it? She assured me that whatever I feel or decide, my feelings are valid, and it is my decision. 

Recently, things have been a little difficult at work. I’ve girlbossed hard, and as part of the management team at DMC, I feel pressure to be high-achieving. (My boss, Denys, would never put that pressure on any of us himself, thankfully. He’s like a therapist and boss all in one, thanks to his wife, April, being an actual therapist!)

I’ve gotten upset with my husband over silly things lately. TikToks about dying dogs, dead family members? Immediate tears. I’m fairly certain it’s either hormonal or stress-induced, keeping my emotions so close to the surface, but I do know I’ll be talking to my doctor about these things soon. 

I’m happy, I’m loved, I’m creative. But I’m also anxious. And that’s OK. It’s who I am. 

I’m not sure I could confidently say all of these things if it wasn’t for the magic of modern medicine. Two little pills I take each day help me slow down enough to evaluate a situation before I just start crying. A lot of pressure that has to build up before that cap explodes and I snap at someone.

I wish that more people could and would accept that part of themselves and seek help instead of living each day in a constant state of semi-panic like I used to. 

Infertility and mental health have both been taboo subjects for entirely too long. These things are common, and people should be able to talk openly and freely about them.