Author: Ginger McGee

Many of you know that I have battled with depression and anxiety for the majority of my time on this planet. And many of you know that I have always been open about my struggles in hopes that my story might help someone. So here I go again.

Like it or not, it’s back. That rabbit hole that is the dynamic duo, anxiety and depression. If it rained every time I had a dark cloud looming over me, I’d have drowned years ago. But I haven’t, and that’s largely, if not solely, because of medication.

I know that some people pursue a more natural path, and I’m all for that, believe me. I don’t enjoy taking medication. But I also don’t enjoy entertaining thoughts of taking my own life. Which, don’t worry, I haven’t thought of in decades. However, I can’t honestly say that sans medication I wouldn’t go down that desperate path. And, understatement of the century, it’s an awful place to be.

Not many people know that when I was 19, I tried to let go. My father had recently died (on my 19th birthday), and I had just gone through a break-up with my first “real” boyfriend. Yes, I was a late bloomer. On top of that I had just been diagnosed with Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome (essentially I had an extra part on my heart – makes sense considering my feelings have always been too big for me).

My diagnosis, at the time, required me to be put on some sort of heart medication. Oh, I forgot to mention that my dad died from heart problems. Talk about added stress. So one day, when I was home alone in the depressing, run-down home (no central air, just a window units in my bedroom with cardboard taped around it) that my mom and I had to move to after my dad died, I decided that I couldn’t stand the pain any longer.

I poured a generous handful of the heart medicine into my palm and washed them down with water. I sat down to wait for the peace to come. As I sat there my brain kicked into survival mode. What are you doing? Are you going to leave your mom alone? You have so much left to do. Think about all the pain you will cause.

And I started crying. Ugly crying. I grabbed the phone book (yes, I’m that old!) and ran my finger down the emergency numbers located in the front. Poison Control. And the call played out exactly as you might imagine.

Poison Control, how can I help you?

What would happen if someone took too much XX?

clickclackclickclack

You need to get to the ER immediately.

Oh, it’s not for me. Just for a friend. Click

I immediately called my brother to tell him what I did. In no time at all he was at the house. Fortunately, he and his wife shared a home with another young couple, one of whom was a nurse. We got there and Mike the Nurse gave me syrup of Ipecac, and it quickly emptied my stomach.

They watched me closely, but I was fine because I had acted so quickly. Because I was young and resilient I bounced back.

The older I got, the harder it was to “bounce back”. That’s when I finally had to give in and take the advice of the doctor who prescribed my first anti-depressant, Wellbutrin. It finally came to pass that my perfect “cocktail” was Wellbutrin with a side of Effexor. And with those the color returned to my world, at least temporarily.

Stay tuned for Part Two of Here I Go Again where I discuss my worst depressive episode to date and how I survived.

We all have goals we hope to accomplish, both personal and professional. No one is exempt from this desire. For some it may be as simple as wanting to do well in school, or wanting to be a good parent. Others might have loftier goals – goals that require circumstances to align in the perfect way. Unfortunately, in most cases, the planets will not align accordingly, and Source will not give you a golden ticket. No, it’s a lot , and equal simpler, and equally more complicated than that.

The bottom line that differentiates the whiners from the winners has nothing to do with luck. It has to do with attitude, as in how badly do you want it, and how uncomfortable are you willing to feel. Yes, we all have things we hope for, but as Ms. Dickinson so eloquently pointed out, “hope is the thing with feathers“. And I’m here to tell you that bird will fly right out the window if you let it.

Hope is beautiful. Hope gives us something to hold onto, something to believe in. But hope alone isn’t going to get the job done. You can hope to accomplish something one day, but that day will be a long time coming until you decide that you want to accomplish that same thing. The success is in the wanting, not the hoping.

Hope will get your dreams in the door. But that door will slam shut and lock on the inside unless you rip it off its hinges with a bit of muscle and pluck. But what if I get a splinter? Well, yeah, you might. In fact, truth be told, you’ll most likely get more than one; in which case, you pull those splinters out and get back to work. Because remember way back when you decided that this was something that you wanted? Are you really going to give up that easily?

What if I fail? Again, that is a very good possibility – failure. But failing, much like falling, only requires that you pick yourself back up again. No, it doesn’t feel good, but sitting in a room looking at a locked door with your dream on the other side doesn’t feel good either. Scrapes heal, but regret is insidious, and is a slow leak of unhappiness that will infiltrate and sabotage future wants. Playing it safe might ensure that you don’t fail short-term, but it will definitely ensure that you fail big-time in the long run.

Naysayers will tell you that just because you want something doesn’t mean you will get it. Wanting doesn’t guarantee success. And I agree. But what the naysayers, giver-uppers, and lifetime hopers choose to ignore is something that Mr. Jagger in all of his big-lipped, rock and roll glory told us a long time ago – you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.

Chew on that bit of pop-culture wisdom. I’ve talked about hopes and wants and then along comes this little thing called need. Like sticky-fingered children who need that extra hit of high-fructose corn syrup, we often allow our wants to get confused with our needs and vice-versa. Despite our absolute belief that we do, in fact, need to have the latest greatest, bestest and hippest whatever that just came rolling off the assembly line, we won’t always get it. And you know what? We manage to survive – even live and prosper. And why is that? Because whatever that thing was it was a want, not a need.

Semantics, you say? Nope, nope, nope, all my nopes. We are so full of shit as a consumeristic society. So caught up in the I need, I need, I need chant of conspicuous consumption that we have forgotten how to tell the difference between wants and needs – between wishing and hoping and thinking and praying; planning and dreaming each night – well you get the idea.

But sometimes in a moment of clarity, a moment of, what might seem to be nothing more than serendipity, the Universe smacks us on our third eye and shows us what we need, what we really, really need. That doesn’t mean we’ll get it because the Universe doesn’t work alone. You have to do your part. You have to want the need to get the need.

The Spice Girls, it seems were channeling the voice of The Universe when they sang, “tell me what you want, what you really, really want”. I’m a firm believer that if you put it out there, it being the thing you want, and you do your part, the part that involves the not-just-hoping, then the Universe will have your back.

So what do you want, and are you willing to do your part to get it?

I just did my first poetry reading last night at Eddie’s Attic in Atlanta alongside the amazing Sabrina Benaim and Clementine vonRadics. How awesome is that?!

Just wanted to thank everyone who stopped me to say hi. I never expected my poems to touch so many people.

Stay tuned to this page. I plan on being more active here.

Thanks again. Last night was easily one of the best nights of my life.