Out of the Darkness

The last couple of months have been rough. I was only home for one week the entire month of October, so I was completely out of my routine and cut off from my tribe who have been so instrumental over the past 6 months. But the funk started before all the travel.

I’ve never been depressed before. I’ve been appropriately sad, of course. In the weeks after Trey passed away, the grief and sadness were so overwhelming that at times it felt like I was suffocating. But, that was normal - my husband had just passed away unexpectedly - and I fully expected it to pass. And it did. So when depression hit, it came out of nowhere and completely caught me off guard.

If you know me, you know that I’m nothing if not a passionate person. From politics, to Longhorns football, to food, to the arts, to social causes, there is nothing I do that I don’t go all in on; I’ve always truly embodied living life to the fullest, every day. And that is why I didn’t understand what was happening to me when everything that had previously brought me so much joy, energy, and electricity just felt blah. I went to see Trombone Shorty tape at ACL Live, where he undoubtedly played the best show I’ve ever seen - and I had to make myself cheer because I knew that was what was expected and what he and his band deserved. Usually I would have been bursting out of my chair and dancing in the aisles. I finished my quarter-ironman with a great time and I thought, “ok, good job, you did it, on to the next one.” Usually the euphoria of completing something I had trained so hard for would have carried me for at least a few days, but this time I felt nothing.

But on the flip side, if the highs weren’t so high, the lows weren’t so low, either. I wasn’t crying every day anymore. There was still awful stuff going on around me, but I just didn’t really seem to care. Who was this completely apathetic person? I wanted my passionate, caring, feel the world at all costs self back.

I was reading something someone had posted about depression, and that’s when it hit me - I was depressed. I think that for most people who have not suffered from depression, you assume that it is just overwhelming sadness all the time. But for others, an overwhelming sense of apathy is a very common - and just as debilitating - symptom. Looking back, I remember having conversations with Trey about his depression and how he felt, and it was never that he was sad. It was always that he was tired, and that he didn’t want to do anything, that he felt a sense of apathy to life that makes it hard to get out of bed, put on a happy face, and get through the day. It is literally draining. At the time, when he would try to explain it to me, I would just say, “well, maybe the sunshine will help. Let’s go for a walk.”, or, “Let’s try cooking healthier and see if a diet change doesn’t help.” Looking back, I see how naive those suggestions were (although sunlight and diet can absolutely effect your mood), and how frustrating and difficult it must have been to listen to me say these things while just wanting to pull a blanket over his head every day.

The next time I saw my counselor, I told him, “I’m pretty sure I’m depressed.”, and he responded, “I’m not surprised. Depression is a normal part of the grieving process. I’ll be concerned if you still feel this way in 6 months”. We proceeded to talk about how I was feeling and sure enough, pretty textbook depression. I would just have to continue putting in the work on myself to move through this stage of the process.

This conversation with my counselor was at the beginning of October. Fast forward to the end of the month, where I have slept in hotels more nights than in my own bed, and been forced to present in front of hundreds of people and make lots of small talk. I feel completely drained. But I am down to the final stretch, and heading to one of my favorite cities - Edinburgh, Scotland - as a stayover while in London for work. My mom and I had arrived in London, and I still felt numb. I LOVE cities - I love the hustle and bustle, the fact that there is always something going on, the possibilities - and I usually get so much energy when I am in one. However, I was getting nothing this time. Instead I just felt exhausted.

We arrive in Edinburgh, and I’m still not feeling as energized as I usually would. Something just feels missing. My mom and I still have a good time sightseeing, listening to some great bands, and catching a comedy show, but I just feel subdued. I brought some of Trey’s ashes with me to spread while we are there, back in the country where we had been married and joined together in the eyes of God. I rented a car (yes a stick, on the left!) and we drove out to Blackness Castle, where I found a beautiful spot to spread Trey’s ashes on the water. The day was beautiful - clear and crisp - and there was a single sailboat in the bay, like it was Trey watching over us. As I stood there in the sun, the cold air whipping at my face, I felt a weight starting to lift. And then I started to sob violent, heavy sobs that I haven’t cried in months. The entire experience felt like a much-needed catharsis to lay Trey, and our marriage, to rest in the place where it began.

We returned to London, and I just felt different; everything felt more vibrant, the energy was back. I had a work conference, and rather than feeling drained from all of the human contact, I felt invigorated. I enjoyed listening to and learning from our clients and my peers, and I felt as though I actually had the brainspace with which to do it. Even though I am back in Austin with allergies hitting me full force as I write this, I still feel more energized than I did just 2 weeks ago.

Today, 6 months after Trey’s passing, I hold so much love, compassion, and empathy for the suffering he endured not merely for months, but for most of his life. I can’t guarantee that I won’t be depressed again at some point on my journey, but I will continue to take this life as it comes, one day at a time, living it to its fullest as long as I can. And for any of you out there who may be suffering from depression, please know that you are not alone, I see you, and I’m here for you. And if you or anyone you know needs help, know that it’s out there: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/. With love, Alania