It was exactly a year ago that a truth-bomb dropped on me during a company Christmas party. And it began my journey to discover I was depressed for the first time in my life.
Several family members have struggled with depression on-and-off most my life, and I'd always taken a bit of (bitchy) pride in the fact that I hadn't. I felt so strong and stable in comparison (again, bitch). Well, pride does come before a fall . . .
The funny part is: I didn't even know I wasn't happy! It took a tri-part series of other people helping me identify it to finally acknowledge, accept, and attack my depression.
"No."
It started at my 2019 company Christmas party in Melbourne, Australia. A colleague's partner was making awkward small talk and casually asked if I was enjoying Melbourne (PSA: it's pronounced Mel-ben). Admittedly, I had had several open-bar drinks at this point, so my completely unfiltered and inebriatedly-blunt answer was: "No."
To this stranger's horror, I immediately burst into tears at my own answer. It completely shocked and deeply shook me. But I knew it was the truth.
The only parts of the rest of the night I remember is:
being strapped over two friends' shoulders, crying as we stumbled to a follow-up bar, and
getting a text from a colleague as I sat on the toilet, asking if I was alright. When I came out of the stall, he was there to catch me as I crumbled in his lap sobbing.
I was an absolute mess. And it only got worse from there.
"The survey results showed you're depressed."
We had an end-of-the-year survey at work, where we were meant to circle x-teen words that described our feelings about the team, our job, the company (all of which I truly loved!). In the first draft, I tried to add my own words at the bottom: "concerned, bored, torn, nostalgic", but was asked to stick with the provided options. Take two is above. I emailed it back to my boss and got on with my day.
A week later, I found myself in a confusingly intimate meeting with my boss and his boss to go over the results of my answers. With sincere concern, she said, "Brenda, the words you chose put you in the 'depressed' category. Are you okay?"
Sober Brenda defended quickly, "What? No! I'm fine!!! I'm fine."
As I walked out of the suddenly-hot room, I questioned myself. Wait, was I fine???
"You be happy now."
This was the final straw: when my dad came to visit me in February 2020. We spent two weeks traveling the southern coastline – laying on many beaches, chasing koalas and kangaroos, climbing mountains in the fog. It was actually the perfect vacation!
As I dropped him off at the airport, tears in both our eyes, he whispered in my ear, "You be happy now." I couldn't even drive home, I was bawling so heavily.
To give some back-story: in 2014, I had just separated from my husband and had just admitted it to my dad while visiting him in Michigan. As I got in the car to fly back to Oregon and 'face the music,' he hugged me tight and said, "You be strong now."
Those four words.
How does he always know??? How does he ALWAYS know what I need? I thought I'd fooled him in Australia - we had the best trip. But he still knew I wasn't happy???
Okay, so you weren't happy, big woop
To get a little understanding as to why this lack of happiness had such an impact on me, you should know that my favorite quote of all-time, one I have based my life on since I was . . . 12? is by the great John Lennon:
To suddenly realize I wasn't happy, that meant I was failing at my biggest life goal. In the past, I'd had times when I struggled, but my core was always happy. Now, those feelings were reversed - I appeared happy on the outside (refer to photos above), but my core was anything but. It felt so hallow and helpless, and I had no tools or experience to fight it.
But I had to do something about it. Now.
So, what'd you do?
I spent several painful months analyzing when I started feeling this way, what I thought the problem was, and what would 'fix' it. I worked with a counselor. I opened up to colleagues, friends, family. All this introspection revealed Melbourne wasn't the place for my soul, our vibrations just didn't match.
Now, keep in mind this is mid-pandemic! So traveling home at this point was difficult, if not impossible. Which added insult to injury.
But I made up my mind, I was getting on the first flight they'd let me on. I sold all my belongings (had filled an entire apartment with furniture, cookware, and stylish clothes that didn't suite me, thinking I'd be in Aus for the long-haul). I packed two bags and smuggled myself on a last-minute, one-way flight without even saying goodbyes.
I was chasing this vanlife dream, because I knew that's what would bring me happiness.
And I was right.
Fast forward >>
Here I am, a year later, living in a 55 square foot van, out in the desert by myself. Most people would look at the two Christmas photos – 2019 vs 2020 – and assume I was happiest in the one where I'm dressed beautifully, drinking fancy (free) wine, embraced by people who love me. They'd assume I was depressed in the one where I'm swinging alone from a bloody van door, gazing out at a dry, desolate desert, all alone.
Happiness looks different to different people. And I can honestly say: I've never been happier.