On January 30, 2016, my world changed forever. That was the day it collapsed. Today is the day I’m going to share with you how seasonal depression has taken over my life.
My name is Ashley Blackwell. I suffer from severe anxiety disorder. I believe I have always (to some extent) struggled with my mental health, going back to my childhood, but in order to understand how serious it is or can be, it takes trauma. I needed to go through that experience. What started out as a normal winter day ended with a fire truck arriving and rescuing my family and me.
Just four months after we moved into our new home, our brick house went up in flames on a Saturday afternoon. It feels like yesterday because I remember (so vividly) that I was sitting in front of the mirror listening to music and finishing my makeup when the scary thing happened. My mom, sister, and I were getting ready to go out for dinner. While my sister rested against the doorway of my room, we had our usual girl talk. Suddenly, there was a strong burning smell coming from the back of the house. She became frantic and flew to the area to see the source of the smoke and discovered that it was in our laundry room. That was just the beginning of this nightmare.
It must have been instinctive. That for some reason our lives are in danger, and that if we didn’t get out of harm’s way quickly enough, we might have been hurt, or worse. died. I jumped up and dashed into the hallway to inform my mother (who was in the bathroom) of the tragedy that was about to unfold. My mother wasn’t sure we had an emergency, but she knew (definitely) that something was going on by the urgency in her daughters’ voices. wrong. “I have to go!” I yelled, leaving my belongings behind and rushing down the (almost) 20 steps to the front door. My combat or flight mode was activated and I maneuvered so quickly that it seemed like I was skipping. My mother and sister acted accordingly.
I made it to the bottom of the stairs outside and within seconds I heard sparks. Urged to look over our shoulders, we stood in disbelief as our modest home went up in flames. The fire was frightening…it burned quickly. One of our neighbors was driving past our block when he noticed the commotion and stopped. Immediately he called the firefighters, as he had been trying to do since we evacuated the premises, but to no avail. Still, there is no answer.
What’s the craziest part of it? The fire station was in our neighborhood, just a few meters away. The gentleman decided to help us and drove down the street to see if anyone was in the building. It was empty. It was later determined that responders had been answering calls across town that day and were operating from a second location.
I was horrified and distraught as I fell to my knees, watching things scorch to ashes and debris strewn across the lawn. Eventually relatives and friends poured in and gathered around us as we waited to see what it would be like. forever for help. At that point, nothing was saved. Everything we ever owned was gone, even the clothes we carried on our backs and the rags we used to wash them.
The road to rebuilding and recovery: where to go My dark days have begun & How Seasonal Depression Took Over My Life
It was quickly determined that the fire was caused by faulty wiring, causing a major failure. In the end, it was concentrated in the laundry room, but it moved an entire wall and destroyed almost everything except for a few items that were (probably) 30% salvageable. For the first time, I was homeless, living in a hotel the American Red Cross had kindly booked for me and a garbage bag full of donated clothing. I was hurt but grateful. Still, I still wasn’t completely shocked by what happened.
Five months later, after moving out of the hotel and into a temporary location, the new location was ready. The sun shone again. Things were getting better. We gained far more than we lost. I got a job at Parle Magazine. Life is good again. Well, at least that’s what I thought.
I was sitting at my desk at home, working, when I felt as if my heart had burst out of my chest and into my stomach. The room spun. I couldn’t hold my breath. Yes, I knew I was going to die. Thankfully I was able to gather myself that day. I couldn’t understand what happened, but I was okay for now. A few days later, the same episode appeared, but this time I was at Walmart. I freaked out and rushed to the ER. I needed to know what was going on. I was worried I was going to have a heart attack.
I was happy because my heart was okay, but my heart wasn’t. I had been diagnosed with a chronic illness anxiety It’s only gotten worse since then. November 2021 was when my extreme (daily) panic attacks with constant anxiety were at their peak. All the wounds I thought had healed, both fire-related and unrelated, have reopened. Unresolved issues have surfaced. I can’t take a break if someone pays me.
The smell of smoke was the trigger. My nerves were devastated and I ended up working until 10am every day. I had always been an emotional eater, so food became my refuge. My creativity declined. I no longer feel optimistic about almost anything. I couldn’t find any fun. I hardly left the house. I never knew peace. I didn’t understand myself anymore. The symptoms of my condition increased by the minute, and I became so obsessed with them that I feared I was going insane. I went to the doctor many times and was so sad that I was drowning without a lifesaver to hold on to.
house fire. I lost my father many years ago. As an adolescent, my self-loathing stemmed from being bullied for my plus-size body and dark skin. Other issues embedded in my memory. Everything has reached a boiling point. I spent many nights crying, wishing I could go back to my old self. I prayed to God and asked: “Why is this happening? How can I get out of this situation? Is this really what was written on your card to your girl?
As time passed, the sparkle in my eyes that once sparkled with life’s small joys faded. By 2022, I enrolled in therapy, and my therapist said she believed I had symptoms of PTSD in addition to depression. I didn’t know at the time that my depression would last for years. Her analysis was that the fire set off a domino effect, awakening emotions that had not yet been sorted out in other aspects of life.
I was 25 years old at the time. I’m 27 years old now. I never thought in a million years that my 20s would be spent fighting my brain. Every day is still a battle, especially in the colder months when the world moves slower and isn’t loud enough to keep me occupied.
In late 2023, I left therapy due to financial issues. 2024 was tough. I’m not ashamed to say it. There are days when I fall down, but I get back up every day. But through it all, I’m learning to give myself grace. I finally realized it’s true when they say… You have to experience it in order to overcome it and grow.. I will no longer let my circumstances define me. Because of this, I returned to therapy.
My journey to “better” won’t happen overnight, but at least…I’m on that path. To those struggling with their own minds, I want to remind you that you’re not crazy, you matter, and there’s a reason you’re still here. I think so. Now, your job is to stay there and see why.
Don’t give up. I had come too far to withdraw from the race. The finish line will be even more impressive when you look back at what it took to get there.
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Source: The Curvy Fashionista – thecurvyfashionista.com
