So, just to warn you, this is going to be intense and maybe even a bit uncomfortable... I'm going to share something exceedingly personal, something I wouldn't normally share with just anyone, but... Well, I just think that sometimes, we have to share those things that we don't really want to talk about in order to make sense of them.
Please heed my warning, this could be a trigger for some people, but I really feel I must share.
So, for many years, I was extremely active in the Voltron fandom - I had several websites and mailing lists, I wrote fanfiction and drew fanart... And, due to many, many different factors (I touch on some of these in the "About this Site" section), eventually I kind of disappeared for an extended period of time.
There's a lot of different things that happened all at once - a lot of personal, real life, family issues that I simply had to put first. We all know life is like that - there are some things that simply must be your priority. And at times, those things require us to give so much of ourselves, that there isn't anything left to give at the end of the day.
But that's not what I want to talk about - I just want to be sure you have a clear picture - it wasn't just one thing, it was many - but there was one issue that prevented me from returning to fandom for so very long.
I went through a period of severe depression accompanied by acute anxiety. It was horrible and it lasted for years. And I really don't want to talk about this... but I feel that if by talking about it, if even one person reads this and is helped, or comes away with a different understanding of mental illness, then... Well, then something good came out of one of the most difficult and terrifying times in my life.
I am a strong, and independent woman - I don't back down, and I don't give up. And I take pride in those things. But those things also often get in my own way because what makes me strong at times causes me to be unreasonable and what keeps me from giving up can make me uncompromising. And all of those things - they make me afraid to ask for help. I do not want to be seen as weak.
I knew something was wrong... I wasn't sleeping, but I didn't want to get out of bed. I was so tired all of the time - it was hard for me to concentrate on anything - even my husband and my kids. It took everything I had just to do the little things that I had to do. I stopped getting "dressed" - just stayed in my sweats, if I got out of my pajamas. I kept telling myself I just needed to snap out of it - that I was just feeling sorry for myself.
But, see, those things aren't like me... And I've never been the kind of person who feels sorry for herself. Most of the time, I have a pretty damn positive outlook - even when other people would quit, I keep on. I've always been like that - like I said, I don't give up.
I continued on this downward path, months passed by and I was still unable to pull myself back up.
I started having trouble with my legs. (I know that sounds out of place, but just hang in there with me a bit longer.) I started feeling intense pain down one of my legs from time to time - and after a few weeks, my leg quit working. It wouldn't move. I couldn't walk - I couldn't stand on it. Just as randomly, my leg was fine. And then it quit working again... And on, and on. It didn't take more than a few times for me to see a pattern - every time I became overly stressed out or anxious, my leg quit working.
I went to the doctor and she determined that the problems with my leg were psychosomatic. I had every test imaginable - there was nothing physically wrong with my leg. I was in such emotional pain, I was so stressed out, I was dealing with such overwhelming anxiety, that my mind was creating physical symptoms. At first, I thought it was a load of crap. I thought I was too strong, too tough, to have an issue like that. Not that I doubted that people really had issues like that, but not me.
My doctor and I were discussing all of this and she said, "Shannon, I know you suffered extreme abuse at one point in your life, and that's something very difficult to cope with... Do you think you could be suffering from depression?"
I will never forget her words - I will never forget that moment in my life.
I started laughing. Laughing! Because that's how I cope - I make jokes. I laugh. I pretend that everything is just fine when it really isn't. And then I laugh some more. And I hide my heartache beneath a smile. I've been doing that since I was just a little girl.
But, that time... As I laughed, I began to sob. Uncontrollable crying. Huge sobs that wracked my entire body. And all these thoughts rushed through my mind and I knew... I wasn't okay.
This happened about 7 years ago - and even talking about it now, brings me to tears. Part of me doesn't want to share... But a bigger part of me knows I must.
So we will skip a ton of details and speed up this tale a bit. I went on anti-depressants, and anxiety medication. I had an amazing therapist. And even with that, I struggled. The depression was horrible - I stopped caring.
The only things that kept me going (if that's what you can call it), were my boys and my beautiful little granddaughter (I now have two gorgeous granddaughters!). I would look at them, and I would remember what it was like to be failed by an emotionally unstable parent - what it had been like to have a father who kept letting me down, who didn't protect me - who was so wrapped up in himself and his anger at our mother that he couldn't see he had two beautiful, innocent children who desperately needed him. Who just wanted to be loved.
And I fought for them. I fought this horrific demon that was trying to devour me. I called up every ounce of strength, every bit of will power, and I reached down into the deepest part of my soul. I refused to give up... I refused to fail them.
It took years and some pretty intense therapy. And things were not always good. But, I am better now. In time, my doctors found that I had some severe vitamin deficiencies (you might be shocked to know just how important vitamins really are to your health!) as well as finding that I wasn't producing enough serotonin, melatonin, or dopamine. Those thing resulted in me suffering from what is referred to as "Adrenal Fatigue."
I'm lucky - I don't have to be on medication any longer - I haven't been for almost three years - but I do have to make sure I take the right vitamins, that I eat the right things, and I get enough sleep. And I've learned to ask for help.
Recently, Robin Williams committed suicide. It touched a very deep part of me - he was such a wonderful comedian - and it seemed he had a blessed life. But depression doesn't discriminate.
See, when you're depressed, it's not about feeling sad. It's not about feeling down. It's not about having a bad day. It can be from a chemical imbalance in the brain and body. It can be linked to experiencing/witnessing traumatic events. There's even a gene that makes a person more prone to mental illnesses. So many things can cause depression.
The thing I want to stress here is that this is a very real disease. I think people don't always understand that.
I once heard someone describe what depression was like for them...
You know that little voice in your head that says, "everything's going to be okay" when times are tough? You know the one... It says, "they don't know what they're talking about" when someone says something mean to you. You know the one, right?
Well, when you are depressed, that little voice lies. It says things to you like, "things are never going to be okay again" and "you're worthless" and "everybody would be better off if you were dead."
And it's hard to argue with that little voice... It becomes exhausting. And it's hard to figure out when that little voice is lying to you and when it's telling the truth.
That little voice told me a huge lie...one about how I was worthless and no one wanted me. I was so tired and so broken down, I couldn't fight it anymore. And I cut my wrists open.
Thank God in heaven my family loves me. Thank God in heaven they found me. And that they forced me to get the help I needed... Because that was the day I looked at myself and I saw my father. And I looked at my sons and I saw myself. I swore I would never fail them again.
And I tell you my tale, not to gain your sympathy, or your empathy. I tell you my tale because it needs to be told.
If you are suffering from depression, don't listen to that little voice if it tells you things will never be better. If it tells you that, it is lying.
I can't tell you what you will have to do, or how long it will take, but I can tell you... Things do get better.
Don't give up, and don't be afraid to ask for help.
If you, or someone you know, is thinking or talking about suicide, please, get help!
You are worth so much more than that.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Please heed my warning, this could be a trigger for some people, but I really feel I must share.
So, for many years, I was extremely active in the Voltron fandom - I had several websites and mailing lists, I wrote fanfiction and drew fanart... And, due to many, many different factors (I touch on some of these in the "About this Site" section), eventually I kind of disappeared for an extended period of time.
There's a lot of different things that happened all at once - a lot of personal, real life, family issues that I simply had to put first. We all know life is like that - there are some things that simply must be your priority. And at times, those things require us to give so much of ourselves, that there isn't anything left to give at the end of the day.
But that's not what I want to talk about - I just want to be sure you have a clear picture - it wasn't just one thing, it was many - but there was one issue that prevented me from returning to fandom for so very long.
I went through a period of severe depression accompanied by acute anxiety. It was horrible and it lasted for years. And I really don't want to talk about this... but I feel that if by talking about it, if even one person reads this and is helped, or comes away with a different understanding of mental illness, then... Well, then something good came out of one of the most difficult and terrifying times in my life.
I am a strong, and independent woman - I don't back down, and I don't give up. And I take pride in those things. But those things also often get in my own way because what makes me strong at times causes me to be unreasonable and what keeps me from giving up can make me uncompromising. And all of those things - they make me afraid to ask for help. I do not want to be seen as weak.
I knew something was wrong... I wasn't sleeping, but I didn't want to get out of bed. I was so tired all of the time - it was hard for me to concentrate on anything - even my husband and my kids. It took everything I had just to do the little things that I had to do. I stopped getting "dressed" - just stayed in my sweats, if I got out of my pajamas. I kept telling myself I just needed to snap out of it - that I was just feeling sorry for myself.
But, see, those things aren't like me... And I've never been the kind of person who feels sorry for herself. Most of the time, I have a pretty damn positive outlook - even when other people would quit, I keep on. I've always been like that - like I said, I don't give up.
I continued on this downward path, months passed by and I was still unable to pull myself back up.
I started having trouble with my legs. (I know that sounds out of place, but just hang in there with me a bit longer.) I started feeling intense pain down one of my legs from time to time - and after a few weeks, my leg quit working. It wouldn't move. I couldn't walk - I couldn't stand on it. Just as randomly, my leg was fine. And then it quit working again... And on, and on. It didn't take more than a few times for me to see a pattern - every time I became overly stressed out or anxious, my leg quit working.
I went to the doctor and she determined that the problems with my leg were psychosomatic. I had every test imaginable - there was nothing physically wrong with my leg. I was in such emotional pain, I was so stressed out, I was dealing with such overwhelming anxiety, that my mind was creating physical symptoms. At first, I thought it was a load of crap. I thought I was too strong, too tough, to have an issue like that. Not that I doubted that people really had issues like that, but not me.
My doctor and I were discussing all of this and she said, "Shannon, I know you suffered extreme abuse at one point in your life, and that's something very difficult to cope with... Do you think you could be suffering from depression?"
I will never forget her words - I will never forget that moment in my life.
I started laughing. Laughing! Because that's how I cope - I make jokes. I laugh. I pretend that everything is just fine when it really isn't. And then I laugh some more. And I hide my heartache beneath a smile. I've been doing that since I was just a little girl.
But, that time... As I laughed, I began to sob. Uncontrollable crying. Huge sobs that wracked my entire body. And all these thoughts rushed through my mind and I knew... I wasn't okay.
This happened about 7 years ago - and even talking about it now, brings me to tears. Part of me doesn't want to share... But a bigger part of me knows I must.
So we will skip a ton of details and speed up this tale a bit. I went on anti-depressants, and anxiety medication. I had an amazing therapist. And even with that, I struggled. The depression was horrible - I stopped caring.
The only things that kept me going (if that's what you can call it), were my boys and my beautiful little granddaughter (I now have two gorgeous granddaughters!). I would look at them, and I would remember what it was like to be failed by an emotionally unstable parent - what it had been like to have a father who kept letting me down, who didn't protect me - who was so wrapped up in himself and his anger at our mother that he couldn't see he had two beautiful, innocent children who desperately needed him. Who just wanted to be loved.
And I fought for them. I fought this horrific demon that was trying to devour me. I called up every ounce of strength, every bit of will power, and I reached down into the deepest part of my soul. I refused to give up... I refused to fail them.
It took years and some pretty intense therapy. And things were not always good. But, I am better now. In time, my doctors found that I had some severe vitamin deficiencies (you might be shocked to know just how important vitamins really are to your health!) as well as finding that I wasn't producing enough serotonin, melatonin, or dopamine. Those thing resulted in me suffering from what is referred to as "Adrenal Fatigue."
I'm lucky - I don't have to be on medication any longer - I haven't been for almost three years - but I do have to make sure I take the right vitamins, that I eat the right things, and I get enough sleep. And I've learned to ask for help.
Recently, Robin Williams committed suicide. It touched a very deep part of me - he was such a wonderful comedian - and it seemed he had a blessed life. But depression doesn't discriminate.
See, when you're depressed, it's not about feeling sad. It's not about feeling down. It's not about having a bad day. It can be from a chemical imbalance in the brain and body. It can be linked to experiencing/witnessing traumatic events. There's even a gene that makes a person more prone to mental illnesses. So many things can cause depression.
The thing I want to stress here is that this is a very real disease. I think people don't always understand that.
I once heard someone describe what depression was like for them...
You know that little voice in your head that says, "everything's going to be okay" when times are tough? You know the one... It says, "they don't know what they're talking about" when someone says something mean to you. You know the one, right?
Well, when you are depressed, that little voice lies. It says things to you like, "things are never going to be okay again" and "you're worthless" and "everybody would be better off if you were dead."
And it's hard to argue with that little voice... It becomes exhausting. And it's hard to figure out when that little voice is lying to you and when it's telling the truth.
That little voice told me a huge lie...one about how I was worthless and no one wanted me. I was so tired and so broken down, I couldn't fight it anymore. And I cut my wrists open.
Thank God in heaven my family loves me. Thank God in heaven they found me. And that they forced me to get the help I needed... Because that was the day I looked at myself and I saw my father. And I looked at my sons and I saw myself. I swore I would never fail them again.
And I tell you my tale, not to gain your sympathy, or your empathy. I tell you my tale because it needs to be told.
If you are suffering from depression, don't listen to that little voice if it tells you things will never be better. If it tells you that, it is lying.
I can't tell you what you will have to do, or how long it will take, but I can tell you... Things do get better.
Don't give up, and don't be afraid to ask for help.
If you, or someone you know, is thinking or talking about suicide, please, get help!
You are worth so much more than that.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255)