the part that's not sunshine and roses.

Many people treat blogging as a highlight reel of their life. They post the best pictures of themselves, talk about their weddings, their PRs, their promotions. I appreciate the positive energy and strive for it on my blog as well. But there are parts of me that aren't PRs. There are low points that have been really, really low. And I think they're important to share.

Growing up, I was a big worrier. A lot of this worry was directed towards achievement in school, but some of it was directed towards social situations, new experiences and changes in my routine. I always had the infamous "Sunday Night Blues" before school each week. But, for the most part, the worrying was normal and I could live my life without much interruption.

I continued this way through college, even improving slightly. I still had major anxiety about social situations, especially ones that involved alcohol, crowded spaces and feeling out of control...which is basically all of the college social scene. But, I found good friends, gained confidence in my academics (which probably stemmed from the small, supportive, liberal arts community that I chose for college and the ability to choose to focus my time on my strengths - I majored in English and didn't have to lose sleep over math formulas and Chemistry equations.) and had a great college experience. I started exercising consistently and had a wonderful gym buddy named Em.

Soon after I graduated, everything started to fall apart. I got a job as a line director at an expensive, all-girls, residential summer camp. I feel apart at the seams. I didn't know anyone within 2 hours of my job, I didn't have a time or place to exercise and I didn't have a moment to myself. I started experiencing extreme anxiety (think my typical worrying/Sunday Night Blues/normal fears times a million). I couldn't breathe, couldn't sleep, couldn't eat. Truly could not function. Slid into a full blown anxiety-fueled depression.

Thankfully, with the support of my parents, two close friends at camp and my doctor, I was able to start taking a low dose of Celexa (20 mg daily) and start to get things back under control. I knew it would be a long road, but I was able to finish my job at camp and move forwards into the rest of my life.

(1-r) Amy, Emily and me at the end of camp - started on a path back towards health

That summer absolutely transformed my life. I learned about my own manifestation of mental illness and how I can deal that that on a daily basis. I became much more self aware and learned to accept and respond to my needs. 

Last summer I decided that I was ready to try to wean off of the Celexa dosage. I made a plan with my doctor to reduce the dosage and start living my life without medication. What ensued was a testament to my current plan of managing mental illness - things started to slip again. My attitude started shifting, phone calls with my parents started to become tear-filled anxiety dumps and I started to feel overwhelmed by things that I had been handling with no problem. I knew it was happening, but it wasn't until my dad actually said the words of "I think you're starting to slip back into Camp Carrie. What do you think?" True to "Camp Carrie" form, I cried and agreed. I was back at the doctor the next week, restarted the meds and have been back on track every since.

Mental illness will always be a part of my life, and I will most likely stay on a low dose anti-depressant for the foreseeable future. I do so many other things to keep myself in balance, however, and I never want to use my meds as a crutch. Running and all other types of exercise keep me feeling clear and stable, along with close relationships with my family and friends and opportunities for alone time to recharge.

As challenging as my experience at camp was, I look back on it with fondness and have two amazingly close friends from the experience. I am thankful for all of these experiences, as they have made me who I am today.

 with Emily, reuniting a year after camp finished.

with Amy, reuniting in Phoenix, AZ last summer.