Also published in The Bridge, Affiliate Newsletter of NAMI Central Middlesex, MA, February 2015
When I enter the movement arts center Jenny founded, she is in the middle of leading a dance. I quietly sit on one of the couches and wait for the music to end. As soon as it does, Jenny comes towards me across the dance floor and pulls me into a hug. “Val!”
She wears a colorful top and loose batiked pants, and is barefoot. Her face is framed with short graying hair, and right now most of it is taken up with a huge smile and sparkling eyes. She greets me like seeing me is the most wonderful thing that’s happened all week—an enthusiasm she brings to many things. There’s a reason people love to follow her in dance.
We haven’t seen each other since the last annual dance retreat, and we have a lot to talk about. When I ask her how she’s been, the first thing she mentions is her new therapist whom she really likes. To me, Jenny is first and foremost a dancer and friend, but she is also a strong advocate for others who, like her, live with depression and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I congratulate her on the new therapist and wish her well, then say I’d love to tell some of her story on my blog. We set a time for a phone interview later—right now, we have some dancing to do.
“I’ve discovered that no one knows what depression is like for those of us who have it,” Jenny tells me over the phone several weeks later. “People use the word ‘depression’ to mean something very superficial, for when they’re just sad. When I’m depressed, it feels like I’ve never done anything worthwhile. It feels like dragging 500 invisible pounds.”
Jenny was an adult before she learned that the emotional challenges she’d always experienced were depression. She saw an announcement for National Depression Screening Day and filled out a questionnaire. One question she remembers was “Have your sleeping habits changed in the last six months?” “No,” she jokes, “I’ve always had insomnia.”
A subsequent doctor visit revealed “severe depression.” The doctor recommended medication. Jenny’s first medication made her unable to sleep and increased her symptoms rather than relieving them. “It got worse. I was scared. I called more than one suicide hotline.” She told her psychiatrist she wanted to stop taking it; the psychiatrist warned that if she did so her depression would worsen. Finally, unable to live in her current condition, Jenny stopped her medication despite her psychiatrist’s warning. She tells me that friends at the time said, “You stopped taking it? What’s wrong with you?” Now, she says, “I am very careful who I talk to” about her choices in this area.
Jenny visited a nurse practitioner and related the story. The nurse said, “You wanted to be un-depressed so badly, you kept taking it.” “I felt so validated,” Jenny says now. Where her friends saw bad judgment, the nurse saw desperation and determination.
When Jenny found help, it included art, writing, dancing, singing with the local church choir, and friends that understand and validate her. She also found help in a diagnosis of PTSD and a new medication. “And I said, ‘Oh my goodness, life is so much easier when you’re not dragging 8,000 pounds!’”
I ask her how she is these days, and she says, “I’ve been really, really tired. [When] I get triggered back into trauma and depression and anxiety, I have to give up whatever project I’d been doing. I’ve learned I have to be careful how many things I take on. But I keep going.
“I’m a voice for the voiceless, because I can speak up,” she says. “If my story helps someone, I don’t feel like it’s a total waste.”
Jenny’s blog, “Healing from PTSD,” is at http://jennydeupree.com/.
To anonymously take questionnaires like the one Jenny took, see http://helpyourselfhelpothers.org/.