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Having a mental illness has its perks, folks!
The CDC recently expanded its eligibility requirements for COVID booster shots, and mental health conditions qualify. This feels like a huge acknowledgement to those of us with invisible maladies. I’m not *thrilled* that clinical depression and anxiety increase my likelihood of getting seriously ill or dying from coronavirus. But I’m relieved the medical community recognizes the impact mood disorders have on our physical health.
When the vaccines began rolling out earlier this year, my husband and I couldn’t get any appointments in Chicago or the surrounding suburbs. Our options were to wait or drive to communities where vaccine doses were plenty. If we drove about four hours south, we could receive extra Johnson & Johnson doses. Our friends own a house down there and invited us to take advantage. Or we could drive to Gary, Indiana, where FEMA set up a vaccination station at an old high school. They opened it up to those outside of Indiana because not enough local residents were getting it.
The other option was to sit tight and wait our turn. Focus on our many blessings and be grateful we didn’t qualify for the vaccine. We didn’t have to work with the public or worry about underlying conditions making us more susceptible to the virus. Instead, Arthur had the privilege of working from home indefinitely. He has his own devoted office space so he can shut the door and focus – a luxury many of his coworkers didn’t have.
As a stay-at-home mom, my sole focus was on helping the kids with their virtual schooling and keeping our home clean and stocked. We live in an urban area in the age of technology, so all I had to do was order our groceries from an app and have them delivered to our door. (Which honestly, as a homebody I’d been taking advantage of way before the pandemic.)
After 13 months of being cooped up in our home and too scared to go out into the world, this last option didn’t appeal to me. My white privilege reared its ugly head and made the executive decision to book vaccines in Gary. I charged up the kids Kindle Fires, packed a bunch of snacks, and stuffed our family of four in the car to roadtrip an hour each way.
I’m not proud of my choice. It’s the epitome of privilege to do what we did. But I’d do it again, and I’ll tell you why:
Depression made me do it.
I felt trapped in my own home. I didn’t enjoy parenting as much as I normally do. I’d given up on keeping the house clean because what’s the point? The kids turned around and cluttered it up again anyway, so I just let it go. Mealtimes became even more of a battleground because there was always at least one person who wouldn’t be happy with whatever I made. I had sensory overload between the boys bouncing off the walls and the dogs barking their butts off.
Monday through Friday, I held it together the best I could. Saturday and Sunday, I spent curled up in bed, trying to figure out what I did wrong. I exercised, took my medicine, did weekly teletherapy, and yet still felt numb. Worse than numb – I felt like I just existed to get my family through the pandemic. My body went through the motions to keep things running well enough, but my brain turned against me and fed me lies about my worth.
My psychiatrist upped my Zoloft dosage, which helped take a bit of the edge off. It felt like reattaching a wrist hanging on by tendons with an ACE bandage wrap. Sure, it does something, but for how long?
Shortly before vaccines were open to us, I reached my lowest point of depression during lockdown. I don’t remember much about that morning, but I know I interrupted Arthur’s work day to tell him that I needed help. I didn’t want to hurt myself, but I didn’t want to keep being conscious. If I could just get in a coma until these circumstances ended, that would solve my problems, or so I convinced myself.
It seemed important to me that he knew my thought process, to protect me from myself.
And he did. Arthur took a personal day from work and handled the kids’ schooling and meals the rest of the day. I wish I could say that alleviated my depression, but those who live with mood disorders know that’s not how it works. We decided to get the vaccine at the FEMA site because it meant life could improve that much sooner. The peace of mind with getting vaccinated was worth any judgment others might have about us “jumping the line.”
Fortunately, the timing of the CDC recognizing mood disorders as high-risk coincided with my vaccine schedule. I made an appointment at the local urgent care facility and received my booster, knowing that if they asked how I qualified (they didn’t,) I had just cause. The science supports this, as evidenced by two studies you can find here and here.
The validation is bittersweet, of course. Acknowledging depression and anxiety as legitimate conditions is a huge step. Those of us living with chronic invisible illnesses have traditionally been told our suffering is “all in the head” and something we can control with grit and determination. Feeling seen and having sound evidence to support our reality offers a small comfort. But knowing it took a pandemic and the sudden increase of those suffering from mood disorders to get it recognized as a high-risk condition is a tough pill to swallow.
Except this time, it was a vaccine stuck in my arm. One that I happily accepted and suffered the side effects of as I started writing this post, but for which I’m forever grateful to receive. Thanks, science!