Depression

I've heard about depression about a gazillion times in the past couple of days, and I'm not so sure that's a bad thing. No. Actually, society needs to talk about depression the way we talk about a disease that consumes you from the inside until there is nothing left. Unfortunately, that can be the reality of depression as we recently learned with Robin Williams. Somewhere in the endless data of a simple Google search you'll find that 1 in 10 Americans will be be affected by depression at one point or another. As someone who has suffered from depression, I think it's time we start speaking up. There is hope for those who suffer from this mental illness.

Like many college students, I had my fair share of wild days. The drinking. The partying. The boyfriends. The late nights. The general irresponsibility. But what people never prepared me for was the emotional damage bundled with the memorable college days. Like so many twenty something college girls, I fell in and out of "love" oh so often. It's silly, I know. How we let ourselves fall so fast and so hard, but yes, I was that cliche. Until, I actually fell in love. I'll call him "A." He was my nights and my days. My time and my effort. My heart and my soul. I had finally grown out of the adolescent love I had learned from Nicholas Sparks (no offense), and fallen in love. Real love. It was glorious for a time. And then, it wasn't. Our similar personalities clashed. That's when I learned that being "too much alike" was a bad thing. But that love kept "A" and me holding on to the toxicity. 

Somewhere in the essence of our future dreams, our actions' consequences finally surfaced. I still remember the night that it all became real. The night I had to grow up. I'll spare you the details. The people who need to know know. But it's what sent me spiraling into an endless void. Darkness. I'd like to say it's all so clear now, but to this day it isn't. It has and always will be a blur. Fighting. Yelling. Pain. Fake resolution. More pain. That's the hazy memory I recall. And somewhere in that repetitive self loathing, I believed the world would be better without me. Suicide was always just lurking at the tip of my conscious. Teasing me. "Oh, how easy I'd be," it'd say. And yes, I gave in. To the depression. To the thoughts. To the darkness. I gave in. 

What followed was crucial. You need to know this. Society NEEDS to know this. I got help. Not only did I see my doctor, but I also talked to my family and friends. For me, that was the best treatment. Although they didn't have some formal intervention to save me from myself, those closest to me stepped in and showed me their love. My brother Ben, he just knew what to say. My parents gave me the tough love I was in desperate need of. And my friends, Jessica, Isaac, Lee, they didn't judge me. It was the perfect combination of understanding, encouragement and comfort. 

Unfortunately, depression doesn't go away overnight. It took many months, if not over a year for me to be happy. And another thing, is there is always the possibility of relapsing. I did after I found out I was pregnant, but I went back to the system that helped me before. The friends. The family. The conversations. Today, I am happy. For some, it's just another adjective. But for me, it's an accomplishment. I am sure someone will look at me differently for being overtly honest about my past. I'm sure someone will think "Oh, here goes Victoria. Sharing way too many details about her life." Truth is, now that I am happy in my own skin, I want to tell everyone about my journey here. That's OK, right? We have got to erase the stigma of mental illness. We have to talk about our obstacles and our success. Society's well being depends on it. Talk. Speak up. If you need help, tell us. If you think someone you know needs help, talk to them. It seems so easy, yet it's so tragically difficult. And if none of the above apply to you, then share your happiness. Smile at strangers. Dance to the music. Reach out to the sun's sweet rays. Someone is watching you. Happiness can be contagious. You can make a difference. We can make a difference. Be happy. 

Exploitation

On June 25, 2013, Wendy Davis held an eleven hour filibuster for abortion rights in Texas. This filibuster would uphold four new standards in for abortion clinics in Texas. They would have to have the same standards as a surgical center. A physician would have to administer RU-486 (also known as the abortion pill). Doctor’s would have to have admittance privileges to a hospital within thirty miles of their clinic and no abortions could be performed after twenty weeks gestation.

That last one, was the most crucial to me. During the one year anniversary of Davis’ filibuster, I decided to look at my daughter’s sonogram pictures. And yes, I do have a favorite. Camilla, my daughter, has her hands near her head and you can distinctly see her nose, closed eyes, fingers, elbows, lips, tummy, and even a glimpse of one ear. She looks, very much, human. There on top it said how far along I was. Seventeen weeks. Five days.

It startled me. I have always loved that picture of Camilla. It was always my “favorite,” but I don’t know if I had ever paid attention to the tiny, barely legible time frame below my name. I had a sick feeling in my stomach. In 1973, when Roe vs. Wade was decided, they didn’t have this 4D, fetal technology. I can almost understand why so many women were naively following the lies and deception that those babies were just blobs of tissue. Not human. Disposable. But today? Science has debunked those lies. Why is this happening today?

On that basis alone, I cannot understand how countless people labeled Davis as “brave.”  Yes, yes. I know. “But what about a woman’s health?!” This is a question many pro-choicers raise, and quite frankly exploit. I decided to do some research myself. Ireland, which is extremely pro-life, has better maternal health than pro-abortion Great Britain. In fact, many doctors agree that they have not seen any situation where an abortion must occur to save the life of the mother. However, there was one condition I kept coming across that pro-choicers used over and over again to further their “health of the mother” argument. Ectopic pregnancy.

Ectopic pregnancy is a condition where the pregnancy occurs outside the womb, typically in the fallopian tube. As hard as it is for me to say, I have had an ectopic pregnancy. It was the most difficult thing I have ever endured: Physically and emotionally. I had no idea what an ectopic pregnancy was when I went to the emergency room. As the doctors prepared me for emergency surgery, they told me they would either have to remove the baby or my whole left fallopian tube.  Before the procedure, I talked to a doctor and asked if that was considered an abortion. She said no. That it was not an abortion and she would never condone that. I also talked with a priest and some pro-life friends who were familiar with ectopic pregnancies. Not one person condemned me for having the procedure done. The pro-life community does not consider treating ectopic pregnancies as abortions. However, the pro-choice community proudly does. That is what they need to do to make women think they are compassionate and caring. Although it was difficult to hear, I learned that my baby’s life was already fading away. Had I not had the procedure, I would not have survived, and neither would my baby.  

I have a living baby and a baby who has passed. Abortion advocates exploit both of them. As if that isn’t enough, they also exploit me. I wasn’t even a month along with my ectopic pregnancy, and I mourn that loss. I still cry for the baby who is not here to play with my sweet Camilla. And just the other night, I had a dream of that baby. She was a beautiful girl with light hair. She took Camilla’s hand, and they played as sisters do. That brought me a deep sense of comfort. The dream of my baby’s life brings me solace. I cannot understand how the thought of a child’s death could bring the same consolation to any woman. We deserve so, so much better. 

My Resolution

Do you believe in New Year’s Resolutions? I had never set a New Year's goal at the beginning of past years. I can’t explain why, or why not rather, but I guess I was scared to commit to something.  According to statisticbrain.com,  more people aim to lose weight than any other resolution. It is encouraging to know society seeks to improve its health and wellness through weight loss and attainable goals at the beginning of the year. However, is our physical health just as or more important than our spiritual health?

As a hypochondriac, I will be the first to admit that my physical health is extremely important to me. BUT, it pales in comparison to my spiritual well-being.  It was this belief that encouraged me to connect with a very sacred part of my faith. To give some background, my grandmother passed away on Christmas of 2012. In many ways, she was my spiritual muse. She was a strong believer and established an unshakable family foundation through that. That strength was seen last month at her one-year memorial. The family assembled to share memories of her, and, most importantly, pray together. The Rosary was our prayer of choice. I am certain my grandmother was looking down on us with such joy, as she had such a strong connection with Christ through the Rosary. My heart was at such peace and solace during that prayer. I am gradually starting to notice that as I become closer to God, the Rosary is becoming a crucial part of my life.

At the beginning of this year, when I was hearing about New Years resolutions, I felt as though God was calling me to pray the Rosary every. single. day. The more I explored this, the more I realized that this spiritual discipline will help my physical health as well. The Huffington Post comprised a list of health benefits of praying in a 2012 piece. In the article, Richard Schiffman explains how dopamine levels, which are associated with states of well being and joy, are increased with prayer and meditation. A Rosary is both. Schiffman also explains how “individuals who prayed daily were shown to be 40 percent less likely to have high blood pressure than those without a regular prayer practice.” Do we need any more reason to have a daily spiritual connection in our lives?! I think not.

I am well aware that repetitive prayer is a topic of much debate among Christians today. And yes, I do pray to God quite conversationally, but sometimes meditation just takes me to an peaceful realm that I was unfamiliar with for many years. I am happy to have recently uncovered this new aspect of my life. Throughout this journey, I hope to pray and meditate for causes dear to my heart and, most importantly, people I love. Although I am still in the early days of my resolution, it has already been a rewarding practice. I plan on sharing my experiences with anyone who chooses to listen or read about them. If you ever have a prayer request, I’d be more than happy to say a Rosary for you.

I feel so blessed that God has challenged me to become spiritually healthy this year. I ask that my family and friends pray for me during this journey. I will undoubtedly need it.

God bless,

Victoria