The last few months I have been so focused on how much better I’ve been feeling and how much my medication has helped, that I didn’t let myself think about my depression over the last year and how much it affected me.

I mean who wants to relive those moments anyways?

But last week it hit me. I’m angry that I had to go through that, no matter how long or how short it was. I’m afraid of experiencing it again. And I’m frustrated that I still need to work through my anxiety. Working on your mental health can be so rewarding, and it is also extremely exhausting.

At work we have been in the process of our yearly performance reviews. When I filled out my self evaluation a few months ago I gave myself pretty middle of the road ratings. I felt like I did my job and maybe exceeded at times but that was about it. There’s nothing wrong with that; that is the expectation after all. But as an achiever and over performer, I always strive for more.

Today I had my meeting with my supervisor to go over my full performance review. These last few months I have been feeling so much happier, more motivated, focused, and so much more since I was in the depths of my depression. My supervisor knew and I’m sure saw the state I was in at that time, but they don’t know the full extent of it. So I was anxious leading up to this meeting wondering if there were areas of improvement I wasn’t aware of.

Overall, I had a great performance review and meeting. However, one of the areas of growth and learning I had this year was brought up. I was not surprised by this as I learned a lot from this particular experience and shared that as we reflected on the year. But it was a point of contention for me at the time and still hurts a little when I think back on it. It was a turning point for me professionally and personally.

But today as my supervisor talked about it, I found out that the people around me saw more of my struggle than I had hoped or noticed. As much as I think I can hide my struggle and emotions, I know I can’t. I knew that that experience hit me hard, but today I realized it hit me harder than even I was willing to admit. And looking back I now see that maybe my depression and anxiety were lingering for much longer than I had realized at the time.

And those thoughts hurt.

A few years ago when I was in the midst of depression without realizing or admitting it, my closest friend pointed out to me how hard I was being on myself. She said I was consistently down on myself, mean to myself, and just generally in a down mood for weeks at a time. I got defensive when I heard this. In my head it had only been temporary; I couldn’t be that bad, could I? But to the people closest to me they were seeing something I wasn’t ready to admit to myself. It wasn’t until months later that I was willing to accept the fact that I had been depressed.

So here we are again years later faced with a similar situation. This time I knew I was depressed, but thought I was getting better. This time I knew I blew up a situation, but wasn’t willing to admit quite how much it blew up even outside of myself. It’s one thing to drown in my own sorrows; it’s another when it starts to leak out to those around me. So when I was confronted with it this time around, I could feel myself get defensive. I could feel the shame and guilt of my actions and reactions.

And in the moment I let it overpower all of the good things my supervisor had mentioned about me this last year and all that she is excited to see me do in this next year. I didn’t hear all of the things she said about how this was a great learning experience for me and that it will only help me moving forward. Instead I only heard how much I screwed up and how much better I could have done.

But this time was also different. Because this time I recognized what my mind was doing in the moment. I questioned my defensiveness. I questioned why I wanted to run away from my feelings. I questioned where all of this was coming from and I challenged the thoughts I was having while also trying to allow myself to feel everything I was feeling without judgement.

I guess therapy is working.

So what conclusion did I come to? Where was all of this coming from? What was I feeling? I don’t have all of the answers and I think most of the answers I do have are quite nuanced. But essentially when I think about that moment and the last year, I just get angry about all that my depression took from me. I’m angry that I let it destroy parts of my life I wasn’t ready for it to destroy. I’m angry that it affected more of my life, and possibly the people in my life, than I thought it had or ever wanted it to.

I’m not blaming my depression for everything that may have gone wrong over the year. But I do want to recognize the part it played in my life and how much it exasperated situations than if I had been more secure. Depression is not a choice, and that is something I am still grappling with as I’ve come out on the other side. Regaining the sense of control I have on my life after losing it while being depressed tricks me into thinking I should have just worked harder. But that’s not how depression works. You can’t just choose to not be depressed or choose what parts of you it affects.

My depression took away the success I feel when I do my job well and am at 100%. My depression took away any sense of identity and work ethic. My depression stripped me of everything I had identified myself with. I’m mad that I couldn’t give my all to my job and the people around me last year. I’m upset that I might have let people down. I’m mad that I had to even experience what it is was like to drown in my own mind.

But now that I’m writing this out, I’m wondering if instead of being angry at it, I should be thankful for it. I’m mad, and yet I’m also realizing that I still attach so much of my identity to what I can give other people and what I can offer to the world.

I had a realization the other day that I don’t think I truly love myself; something I had thought I had already worked through, which can be frustrating and sad to admit. I love my life and the life I built. I love my job and people in my life. But I don’t think I love who I am.

I don’t love my anxiety and anxious moments. I don’t love when I fail or get something wrong. I don’t love when I laugh too loud, talk too fast or too much, or take up any space at all. I don’t love when I do anything at all that could make someone not like me. And that is extremely annoying and frustrating.

I want to love who I am. I want to explode with self love. And some days maybe I do. But learning to love yourself and all of your quirks is hard. Learning that success and accolades and love from others doesn’t make up who you are as a person is hard. I am more than my accomplishments, more than my hobbies, more than my job, and more than being liked. Maybe if I learned to love myself as I am it wouldn’t feel so foreign when someone else chose to love me back.

Working through your mental health is no joke. I wish I didn’t have to do this. I wish I didn’t need therapy every week. I wish I didn’t have to take anti-depressants. I wish I didn’t have to unlearn every anxious and overthinking habit I have acquired over my 30 years. I wish for an easier life.

And yet this is the life I was given. So I may as well do everything I can with it.

It is hard to not feel shame and guilt for all those months I experienced depression and let it pour out of me. And yet it brought me lessons I didn’t know I needed. Do I wish I could have learned those lessons without the pain it may have caused me and others? Absolutely. I’m not saying everyone needs to experience this kind of pain to learn lessons in life. But I do think that it can be helpful to see that it was only a season in my life and that maybe something beneficial can come from it.

My depression and anxiety don’t define me. My lowest moments do not define me. Not at work, not with my family and friends, and not even for myself. I am so much more than those moments and am constantly growing and learning. I am not static.

I am continually working through the grief that is my mental health. Grieving the moments I’ve experienced and the moments I’m continually working through. Grieving the parts of myself that I may have lost along the way; some which should stay lost and some I am still building back. It is a lifelong journey I never wished for myself, but one I am proud to say that I have finally found the motivation and determination to work on.

And it starts with learning to love who I am with my anxiety and depression, not who I could be without it.