Well, dear friends. It's about time we take a moment to talk about Major Depressive Disorder and severe anxiety.

I don't know how to start this conversation and I don't exactly know what to say, but speaking up is good. It's healthy, helpful, and necessary.

Just five short weeks from my sixth birthday, my father took his own life. From that day forward, I've struggled with depression. Some seasons have been worse than others; most not unbearable. For some stretches of time, this depression and anxiety have been quite controllable and able to conceal or rationalize. In high school, it hit really hard a couple times. In college, I did pretty good to keep in under control, even during traumatic or stressful periods. But at some point, in the middle of college, it finally all exploded again. After a summer of counseling, that was incredibly healing and helpful, I began my last year of college with hope. Almost immediately, Robby was re-introduced into my life, and I was swept up into a fairy tale.

My sweet Robby came busting into my life and brought all the love and hope and joy possible, putting to bed again my feelings of depression and loneliness and anxiousness and sadness. I believed for the umpteenth time that I had been healed from depression, freed from the need of medication, and powerful enough (with Christ, of course) to conquer it if it was to make another grand entrance into my life.

I was wrong.

Once Robby's dad went into the hospital, once we lived for 6 weeks in the ICU, once I started failing my college courses, once my father-in-law passed away, once I mourned 15 years of being without a father, then I entered into a summer taking my last two college classes, planning a wedding, working a job, and getting ready to graduate, move to a new city, leave my job, leave my church, leave my home, and become a wife. In three short months, my life turned upside down and my depression "came back" with a vengeance.

I was originally diagnosed with Dysthemia and prescribed Lexapro. But I got worse and I got worse. Two weeks before my wedding and graduation, I experienced a severe depressive episode, where I posed a threat to myself. I had to leave my job early, move back in with my mom, and had to finish school/planning my wedding as an embarrassed/anxious/depressed 21 year old living back at home again. Not exactly the way I hoped to begin my life as a new adult...

I visited my doctor again and was taken off of Lexapro. In it's place came Zoloft and Wellbutrin.

Overnight, I felt better.

I woke up the day after my worst episode yet and I felt better than I have felt in years. I successfully navigated through my final two weeks of college, I planned my dream wedding, I walked across a stage and down an aisle the next day. I flew off to Paris with my new husband and enjoyed a magical 10 days with the love of my life (aside from the mono).

However, once we got back, I gradually started to decline again. About a month or two into our marriage, my doctor had me double my Zoloft intake. At my followup visit, I felt the same, no better. I asked if she had any Psychiatric recommendations, so I could get the expert opinion of a specialist.

I fought it and I put it off and I just "knew" it would get better.

But it hasn't. If anything, it's gotten worse.

I am fighting off strong self-harming inclinations, I am reacting aggressively when I become agitated, I bawl my eyes out as if a close family has passed away even when nothing is going wrong. Last night, whilst trying to get ready for my dear friend's surprise birthday party, I found myself sobbing uncontrollably on the closet floor. I throw fits! Like a child!

I went to the psychiatrist on Friday. It's confirmed. Reagan Nash is suffering from a severe anxiety disorder as well as a severe case of MDD. I'm on a couple new medications, I'm set to start another round of counseling, and I have a follow up appointment in two weeks.

It's weird. It's hard. It's embarrassing. It's something I feel guilty over. It's something I don't understand and I don't know how to deal with half the time. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about it, how I'm supposed to treat it, how I'm supposed to talk about it.

But it's a part of me. It's a huge part of who I am. This depression, this broken brain - I carry it within me.

I know it doesn't rule me. I'm not its slave and it's not my master. But I'm wrong to treat it as if it doesn't exist. If I ignore it, I'm being ignorant, and most likely putting myself in danger. I know God is capable of healing my brain, but I also know that He is still good and just if He chooses not to. Maybe depression/anxiety is the "thorn in my side" that I get to live with and struggle through.

But I will struggle through.

This will not defeat me.

I will not let this thorn be manipulated by the enemy. Satan will not take my life.

I am weak. But God is strong.

If you see me, have grace with me. I'm trying to learn how to have grace with myself. I'm learning to have grace with you. I'm learning what grace even means.

That's my word for this year. Grace.

*This post originally appeared on my former blog, Nothing But Nash, on January 25, 2015 and has been republished here to bring all of my thoughts into on consolidated place.