Choosing to be Honest About Depression

@bethvogt

 

A few weeks ago, I applied for long term health insurance. After all the ups and downs we’ve had with my mother-in-law’s care, my husband, Rob, and I want to do as much as we can to ease things in the future for our adult children.

Last week, the company denied my application.

Okay then.

Then the real fun started. I had to submit a form to get past the insurance company’s cryptic statement of “sorry we won’t cover you but we won’t tell you why except it was something your medical care provider wrote in your medical records.”

Rob is a family physician. I stay informed about my health. My migraines? Managed. My asthma? Managed. My cholesterol? Managing it.

The answer arrived quickly, along with a refund of the I-thought-they’d-say-yes deposit.

The reason for the denial? My history of “recurrent major depression and anxiety with reported symptoms of increasing anxiety noted during a visit in mid-March.”

I always want to be honest here … well, this is me being h-o-n-e-s-t.

Do I have depression? Yes. I take a mild antidepressant every day. I have since my thyroid went completely bonkers after my youngest daughter was born, almost 20 years ago. Note: Sometimes after childbirth, a woman’s thyroid stops functioning. Usually it rights itself. Mine didn’t. It was over a year before we got things under control, and my medical provider recommended an antidepressant because of complications with my thyroid.

My attempt to get off the antidepressant didn’t go so well. Knowing my history of abuse, Rob said, “You’ve probably struggled with some level of depression your entire life – and you’ve managed it up until now.” And then he suggested I stay on the medication.

I decided that If a small white pill helped me function as a wife and a mom – as a woman – so be it.

Fast forward to 2020.

I shouldn’t even have to explain this to anyone, much less some unknown person at an insurance company. We all know what this year has been like.

I had some tough days in the early part of 2020. After one week particularly rough week, I talked to my medical provider, who is not my husband, by the way. We discussed options to I help me feel more myself.

And for that, I get a denial and a label of “recurrent major depression and anxiety.”

My response to all this?

You deny my application? That’s fine.

I deny your label.

Yes, I have depression. Whatever my medical provider, who I trust and respect, wrote in my chart, I do not have major depression. I have functioned every single day of my life for the past two decades with depression. Some days are harder than others, but most days are good. I had a rough go for one week – 7 days – earlier this year.

Guess what? Everyone is having a rough go in 2020.

I have a diagnosis of depression – and I love my husband and my kids.

I have a diagnosis of depression – and I love my friends.

I have a diagnosis of depression – and I write award-winning books.

I have a diagnosis of depression – and I live my life, pursue dreams, trust God, and I don’t quit.

And here’s the most important thing I want to say: If you are dealing with depression – yes, you: Asking for help if you are struggling is never wrong.

Don’t accept shame from anyone. Don’t accept guilt from anyone.

Ask for help.

Choosing to be Honest About Depression https://bit.ly/3jx7SpZ #perspective #depression
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'Let's tell the truth to people. When people ask, 'How are you?' have the nerve sometimes to answer truthfully.
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