Depression & anxiety and the impact on loved ones
I know you’re unhappy. I know what you’re dealing with seems painful and scary and lonely. I know, because I was you. I wish I could take it away for you because I never want anyone to experience life the way I did. I’m so sorry that I can’t, and that you have to walk your own path of recovery from depression and anxiety. You feel trapped, but I hope you know you’re not alone. Twenty-five percent of people in the US will struggle with anxiety or depression. (Or both!) That’s one in four people. That means that anyone who hasn’t experienced it themselves knows someone who has. Everyone, on some level, is affected.
You feel trapped, but I hope you know you’re not alone. Twenty-five percent of people in the US will struggle with anxiety or depression. (Or both!) That’s one in four people. That means that anyone who hasn’t experienced it themselves knows someone who has. Everyone, on some level, is affected.
You feel trapped, but I hope you know you’re not alone.
I’ve learned while getting help and being in recovery that my struggle with depression and anxiety impacted the people I loved—some in a big way. I had no idea. I felt so worthless that I couldn’t comprehend that my pain could matter to anyone else. Some days, your mood shifts from moment to moment. You feel fine, and then you’re sobbing, and then you’re screaming and you’re not sure why. Then, you’re quietly making jokes with your siblings as you calm down. And then you wait for the cycle to start again. That was my pattern, and it was hard to live that way. It was also hard for my family. They never knew which version of me they were going to get. Whether it was good or bad news, there was no telling what my reaction would be.
I think back on the impulsive things that I did, and I cringe. It felt like I had no control over myself, it felt like I had to do this, or do that. I put myself at risk constantly, and I didn’t care. Life was too hard, anyway. My mom was always stressed and angry with me if I came home late and didn’t know where I had been. I understand now that she was worried.
Your view of yourself and the world around you is so skewed that your reality is entirely different than everyone else’s. This will be such a challenge to overcome, because your reality is reality. You believe that every negative thought you have about yourself is true. Every time someone looks in your direction, they’re judging you. Every question a parent asks becomes an accusation. Living in a world where everything and everyone is against you, even yourself, is heartbreakingly lonely. I couldn’t communicate with my family. I was misinterpreting everything they said, and reacting according to my interpretation. Soon, every interaction became a fight.
It felt like I had no control over myself, it felt like I had to do this, or do that. I put myself at risk constantly, and I didn’t care.
When you know you’re at risk for a panic attack, avoiding potential triggers feels like the right thing to do. Because, panic attacks. And what’s worse, missing an event altogether, or having a panic attack in the middle of it? It’s a lose-lose. But right or wrong, it affects everyone around you. Family members are left no-showing for events, or they arrive late after trying to coax you into coming for 20 minutes.
If your struggle with anxiety isn’t common knowledge, they’re probably exhausted from coming up with excuses for why you aren’t there. I know that my parents were. I missed my best friend’s college graduation because it required me to drive through rush hour into downtown, one way street traffic. Each of these things took a massive toll on my relationships. It wasn’t that my family and friends didn’t understand—they did. But the reality was, regardless of the reason I wasn’t there… I wasn’t there.
The anxiety was now in full charge of the entire family.
My mom tried to help me by accommodating my triggers. She thought that if she removed anything that could set me off into a spiral, we would avoid the spirals. One thing that set me off was a lot of loud noise and chaos. I couldn’t focus, which meant I wouldn’t do well on homework, which meant I would fail school, which meant I would fail life. (See the distortion of my thoughts?) So to help me, my mom asked my young siblings to be very quiet after school. They couldn’t turn on the TV, they couldn’t yell, they wouldn’t even have friends over anymore. I don’t blame them for not inviting classmates into the abyss of the no-fun zone. The anxiety was now in full charge of the entire family.
While I was in treatment, my therapist shared with me a research article that describes the impacts of caring for a person with an anxiety disorder. (In my case, concurrent depression and anxiety.) At first, I was shocked by the results. The report found that caregivers become “so intertwined with the disorder that their own needs and a life outside their caring role becomes difficult for them to consider.”
Caregivers (such as a spouse or parents) experience a decline in their own physical, psychological, and family health when they are caring for a person with an anxiety disorder.
Caregivers (such as a spouse or parents) experience a decline in their own physical, psychological, and family health when they are caring for a person with an anxiety disorder. The more serious a person’s disorder is, the more serious the carers decline in health becomes. It didn’t make sense how my problems, that I wasn’t intentionally passing on to anyone else, could have a physical impact. But as I’ve looked back on how we were functioning, it makes perfect sense.
I never wanted to hurt anyone else, and I know you don’t, either. Depression is the most painful, helpless, frightening (yet somehow comforting) feeling I’ve experienced. The thought of trying even one more time to overcome the thoughts and feelings is overwhelming. The idea of embracing life’s fears and being okay with imperfection is terrifying. But I can attest to the truth that living the same way is even worse.
When you get help, you won’t only be helping yourself, but everyone around you.
Being told that these incredibly painful, incredibly personal conditions are hard on the people you love isn’t easy to hear. It’s not your fault, and you’re not a bad person. I, and hopefully your loved ones, understand that you’re not choosing to feel depressed or anxious. Why would anyone choose to feel that way?
But at the same time, you can’t continue on as you are. Depression and anxiety are both treatable disorders with a multitude of treatment options. When you get help, you won’t only be helping yourself, but everyone around you. If you’re not ready to do it for yourself, do it for your mom, or your little brother, or your best friend. There’s no excuse not to take your next step.
“If you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always gotten.”
1 Lynch, T. R. "Dialectical Behavior Therapy for Depressed Older Adults: A Randomized Pilot Study." American Journal of Geriatric Psychiatry 11.1 (2003): 33-45. Print.