Hungry? I’m Not Sure: What They Probably Didn’t Tell You About Depression
This may be the most personal one yet. You’re all in my business now, besties.
It’s taken me quite a long time to get comfortable sharing this part of my journey but the thing about healing is that sometimes you just have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.
As shared in some of my previous posts, I’ve been living with depression and anxiety for a while now — and it truly has been a battle sometimes. The anxiety came first, and dealing with that was one thing but adding one more mental health issue to an already full plate was another. Unfortunately, these two conditions often fuel each other and that adds to the struggle.
The frustrating thing about depression is that it can change how the brain works and when that happens, lots of other things can change too. As the title suggests, this time I’ll be talking about hunger (as well as the act of eating). But first, some history.
Childhood and Early Adulthood
I was a very picky eater. If I got a patty, I would only eat the crust; if I got a hot dog, I would only eat the frank. I didn’t want anything other than dumplings and I wouldn’t even think about eating a vegetable. My mother says she was so concerned about my eating habits that she took me to see a pediatrician who assured her that I would eat when I was ready and she should just give me some time.
Fast forward to my teen years when my love for food really started to blossom and I was eating almost everything in sight. Mom used to joke that I was eating all the food in the house and that one day she wouldn’t be able to feed me. This deep love for food grew as I got older.
I believe there are two types of eaters in the world: those who eat simply for sustenance and survival, and those who delight in making almost every meal a memorable culinary experience. Those of you who know me personally knew me to be the latter. I danced when I ate, my eyes lit up when I discovered that I liked something new and I would sometimes got emotional over good meal presentation. Real foodie vibes.
Depression took that all away from me.
How It Started
I received my official diagnosis after what were great milestones in my life. I had recently been promoted at work and I was on my way to finishing up my Masters degree. Sounds great on paper, I know, but it was a lot more to handle in reality. There was a lot of pressure to be great and I felt like I was failing miserably.
I cracked under it all and finally decided to see another therapist (I’d first tried therapy at 19 while I was in University and decided it wasn’t for me). After a few very open and honest sessions with the psychiatrist, she was able to call it. Since then the work to get well again has been almost constant. Jeezas, ah tiyad.
My Brain Changed
Research shows that different parts of the brain can change or even stop working in people who live with depression. Some parts that can be affected include the hippocampus which aids in learning and memory retention; the thalamus which regulates consciousness and sleep; the amygdala which helps to process strong emotions and the hypothalmus which controls hunger and thirst.
All these parts of my brain were affected but I didn’t know it yet because I’ve always been very high-functioning. Around March 2020 when COVID-19 hit Jamaica, I started losing my mind. Between lockdowns and having anxiety over catching the virus, as time progressed, I realised that I was struggling. I couldn’t do a lot of the things I used to do, including focusing on tasks and the simple act of finishing a meal.
By the end of January 2021, I pretty much stopped eating and now, I’ve lost over thirty pounds. While logically, I knew I should have been eating, I had no desire to do so and almost no appetite for food. That’s when I learned that hunger is more mental than physical.
Since my hypothalmus was malfunctioning, it wasn’t telling my body that I was hungry and trying to force myself to eat sometimes meant severe stomach pain or even throwing up. So here I was, a wanga gut with a mental illness that made my body reject food. My mind and body were fighting each other and my mind was kicking my body’s ass. Cue the devastation.
On top of this, I had to (and still have to) deal with people commenting on my weight loss and sharing their opinions on how they preferred my body to look. I don’t have to tell you that this made me feel even worse about myself and the illness I’m living with. Negative self talk was one of the hardest parts of it all.
“You can’t even feed yourself? Really? You’re grown, get it together”
“All these clothes and nothing fits anymore. Have to be wearing the same things over and over. It nuh look good”
“Come on, you have to eat something”
“People are going to know something is wrong. This is embarrassing”
It felt like the more I pleaded with my body, the more my mind put up a block and the cycle continued.
There are some days that are really good and I’m able to enjoy my meals (if only for a time), and I remain grateful for each one.
I’ve disliked comments about body size and image for most of my life but navigating the complex emotions that come with depression-affected weight is a big part of why I’m so adamant about not commenting on weight loss/gain or how someone’s body looks. You really never know what the issue could be or what effect your words could have on people.
If I ever lose my battle with depression, I’m content knowing I did all I could. We’re all doing the best we can. Remember to be kind.
Love and light.