Mental Health

Mental health...seems like it should be such an easy thing, especially if you are intelligent, have access to good resources, and are not completely isolated.  I find that even at age 40, after countless years of therapy, psych classes, support groups, reading, meditating, you name it, I still have fear and shame around my struggles.  I somehow feel, admitting that I have some mental health "issues" makes me somehow weak or less capable.  Intellectually I know this is not true, it’s just the feelings I fight within myself.

So in my continuing quest to live an open and honest life I thought it might be good to do some more in depth writing on the topic that I started in my last post.  In some recent moments of clarity, I have come to accept that I struggle with depression.  Not a huge revelation to those who know me well I am sure.  However, I think the shift I have come to accept recently is that it is a part of my chemical makeup and I need to find a way to be ok with that.  I have always looked at my depression as situational, even if all evidence indicated otherwise.  I would cycle on and off antidepressants because I did not want to be on them unless I was absolutely miserable.  In a recent conversation with my therapist, she suggested that I may need to just accept that I need to be on a med consistently and perhaps up the dose as seasonal or situational events require.  It some ways it feels like a betrayal of my body.  Why can't it just work "right," without chemical intervention?  Then I look at the patients I am working with, both on the psych unit and on the med-surg unit and realize, they likely have the same thoughts on occasion and comparatively, I am in pretty good shape.  So yes, my name is Nick and I suffer from depression.

The other mental health issue I struggle with is anxiety.  As I briefly mentioned in my last post, I was gay-bashed and sexually assaulted in April of 2007.  The anniversary of that incident is fast approaching and I think because I am so far away from the people who lived through that incident with me and because I am under an incredible amount of stress with my school program and what not, my PTSD anxiety is rearing its ugly head.  Its not an easy thing to admit, but when I passed out during clinical last week it was due in large part to a full-blown panic attack.  Part of my attack involved me being choked from behind.  I have never done well with thoughts or experiences that make me feel as my airway is being cut off.  That anxiety has multiplied at least tenfold since the assault.  

Last week's clinical experience for me was to observe a surgery in an OR suite.  I was scheduled to watch a knee arthroscopy and ligament repair.  After much in and out, following the RN who was prepping the suite, it was time for the procedure to begin.  I took up my spot, out of the way to observe.  I was in scrubs, a cap and a mask.  I found the procedure interesting, but quickly realized that I was having difficulty breathing with the mask on.  I did my best for about 30 minutes to move around, adjust the mask, and distract myself from the ever-growing anxiety.  Finally, as waves of nausea began to wash over me I walked to the other side of the suite and tried to ask some questions of the OR nurse.  Ultimately I realized I had to get to a rest room.  As I left the OR suite and headed to the rest room, I felt myself get slightly dizzy, but kept walking ahead.  I only made it one doorway down before I passed out cold.  I don't even recall going down and when I came to, I thought I was just leaning against a shelving unit.  It took me a full minute to realize I was lying full out on the floor.  

It also took me a little bit to realize that I had been experiencing a full-blown anxiety attack.  As soon as I came to, it was all I could do to stop myself from tearing the mask off my face.  A nurse saw me go down and got another nurse to get me a wheelchair.  I felt embarrassed and ashamed.  On the one hand, I didn't want them to think I couldn't handle watching some surgery, but on the other hand I also didn't want to admit I was having an anxiety attack.  They made me go to the Emergency Department and I did have the courage to tell the doctor that I was having an anxiety attack.  That was anxiety inducing in and of itself.  After my assault, I went to an Emergency Department and felt like I wasn't treated as well as I could have been.  My transgender status makes many people uncomfortable.  To be recovering from a major anxiety attack and then to have to tell medical personnel that I am not familiar with that not only am I a nursing student having a panic attack, but that I am also transgender, not a fun experience.

The upside to all of this is that it made me reach out.  It made me realize that I still have residual affects of PTSD.  It made me decide to go back on medication.  I hope that it is also the turning point of what has been several very dark weeks.  I am working to accept that I may never be "cured" from my depression or my anxiety, but I can continue to manage it in healthy ways that allow me to live a full and vibrant life.  In addition, perhaps if I share my experiences it will help reduce the internalized stigma I feel.

Peace and compassion...