The Martian

I stopped riding. I stopped writing. The Depression brought me to a halt. 

2021 Unbound XL. What a high. This is about the fall and the next 18 months of spiraling. Spinning out. Burning the clutch, lurching forward, and killing the car. This is the story of The Depression, the one that wouldn’t leave. 

Leadville. Rhabdo. Hospital. Burnout. Therapy. Sobriety. 

Covid. Peri-menopause. Weight gain. In 2022 I faked my way through another cycling season. Faking the smiles, hoping they’d magically turn into real ones. 

(FYI – it’s insanely difficult to fake your way through a 350 mile race, a 5 day stage race, and a team camp where there are cameras and smiles and bonding. Half your brain is telling you, you can do it! This is fun! And the other half just wants to pull the covers over your head. It’s all so exhausting!) 

In 2022, a storm blew through, and when the wind stopped, The Depression knocked the wind from my already battered sails. 

My usual methods were useless. This was more than a funk. It’s upsetting how your brain can come up with 10 different minuscule goals for a day, and your body refuses to accomplish one. “Maybe tomorrow,” The Depression says. 

Tears. A sadness about being sad. Missing me. Missing myself. Missing I. The Depression takes over like an inky cloud inside of you. Any attempts to let out your light are instantly smothered. 

Admission is the first step towards recovery. The next ten take a strength harder than anything I’ve ever tackled. Calling the doctor. Filling out the forms. Rating the moods. Diagnosing The Depression. Deciding to medicate. 

Medicate. Wait. The Depression is not a quick sickness to eradicate. 

Did a few dosage changes, but to be truthful, nothing helped. Maybe there were slightly less of the low, lows. But there were never any highs. Rarely any real deep smiles from my belly. I never felt like myself, and I was fearful she was gonna be lost forever. 

Therapy. Finding a love for yourself, even when The Depression says there’s no need for that. I’m here for you. The Depression tries to cancel your appointments. We don’t have time for that. Yet every time we talk to the doc, we feel better. F* you, Depression. 

It was mostly doom and gloom, with tiny slivers of light. A few key people that I didn’t totally push away. A few key conversations that I’ll remember forever. On a bike with Cynthia in Vermont. On the couch with Noko in December. On the phone with my mother while riding around Whidbey. 

After Leadville I was having a lot of issues falling asleep and staying asleep. My sleep latency was not good, and when I finally fell asleep, that 2 or 3am ding would go off in my head and my eyes and brain were all of a sudden fucking wide awake. I wasn’t using my sleep apnea implant due to so much anxiety about needing to fall asleep within the 30min window of turning it on. My doctor suggested a low dose of Doxepin so I gave it a chance and it worked. Very well. But then, the storm of life blew in, and The Depression started to grow. The doc suggested a low starting dose of Prozac for the lack of side effects. 

Over the next nine months, the lows were less, but to me The Depression got worse. Stopped the drug. It got worser. Started at the next higher dose. Felt drugged. Went back to original dose. All while still taking Doxepin. 

I had gained 30lbs in less than three months. My periods were (and always have been) all over the place. Sugar was the only thing {barely} getting me through a day. The skidding spiral and {very dark negative} internal language was exhausting. 

And then in November, I said, fuck it. No more medication. Clean slate. Who am I without this? I think I’m someone who experiences the side effects, which always become worse than the reason you are taking the drug. The IUD before Kyle’s vasectomy fucked me up. Pain medicine and the extreme nausea. And now the low dose Doxepin + the entrance of The Depression. 

I’ve been wearing an Oura ring for a year now. It’s been a rarity to get a sleep or readiness crown. After going off the meds, I’ve seen an unbelievable shift into crown land! And that equates to more energy. Which equates to being able to exercise. Which leads to natural endorphins. 

And all of a sudden, I feel like me. 

There’s still a lot more work to do, but with a renewed sense of energy, I’m not scared of the work. I know I can do it. The stress of an impending international move at this point last year would’ve crushed me. And now? I can actually say I’m genuinely excited for this change in our lives. 

Often times, the encouragement “listen to yourself” is empowering. Sometimes, when you really listen, you don’t hear yourself. Or the real you won’t respond. To me, The Depression felt like I had a little Martian in my brain, driving my thoughts with a little joystick, stealing the joy. My joy. 

The small sparks of “me” that keep poking up have been exciting and invigorating. I’m sometimes shocked at the feelings I get to really feel. The moderated drugged feeling of extreme mediocrity has started to part ways for a reality I haven’t felt in far too long. I get to be me. And that’s pretty darn exciting. 

The Martian has been evicted. The blog has been fired back up. And the fire inside is stoked to burn bright.