Photos courtesy of Allison Lehman
On July 18, 2016, my life changed forever. It was almost exactly a month after my 36th birthday, and I found myself in my doctor’s office complaining of a lump on the right side of my breast. I was nervous – but that’s to be expected right? After his examination, my doctor didn’t think there was anything to be concerned about, but just to be sure, he wanted me to get a mammogram. My anxiety was through the roof.
The day I arrived at the women’s health center for my screening, I tried to quiet the inner workings of my mind as I undressed. I was anticipating the worst. In addition to the mammogram, the doctors decided to perform an ultrasound because they needed more information due to my age and the density of the tissue. That was the moment my situation turned into a nightmare.
As it turns out, I had a growth that my doctor suspected was cancerous, and I needed a biopsy for further evaluation. My heart dropped, and I went completely numb. I couldn’t help but think of my husband, my kids, all of my dreams and plans. I was a wreck.
The next day, I was back at the women’s center getting prepped for my procedure. While the procedure itself was short, waiting for the results felt like a lifetime. Then, my phone rang. It was the doctor’s office.
“You’re fine, there’s no cancer, just a small fibroadenoma.”
I tried to keep myself together until I hung up the phone, then I laughed, cried, hugged my husband, and praised the Almighty God.
Over the next couple of months, I thought I was in the clear. But I thought wrong.
One morning, around three o’clock, my eyes popped wide open and I felt complete fear as I hyperventilated and my body twitched. I thought I was dying. I quickly got out of bed, panting, pacing and trying not to wake my husband.
When the panic subsided a few hours later, I gathered myself and woke my kids up. I tried to follow our normal routine, but I couldn’t get it together. I was crying, shaking and nervous. I was so sick from all of the adrenaline I could barely walk, but miraculously I was able to make it to my doctor’s office safely.
My doctor and his wife came into the room with the most compassionate looks on their faces. His wife embraced me and I fell apart in her arms. After listening to me describe my symptoms, my doctor diagnosed me with generalized anxiety disorder and depression.
That was it – the moment my reality hit me like a ton of bricks. Trauma from my past and present combined with worry about the future were like gasoline, and all it took was a spark to set my life ablaze. That was my day of reckoning, and I finally met my issues face to face.
At first, I struggled with the diagnosis. “I’m a Christian,” I thought to myself, “I shouldn’t have this problem, right?” Wrong.
I had grown up in a church all of my life, and needless to say, mental health topics were taboo among the African American Christian community. We simply didn’t talk about anxiety and depression as being valid diseases. Instead, people would pray over me and say, “God give her peace.” They meant well, but had no clue what I was going through.
When someone is a diabetic, do we pray over them instead of giving them insulin? No, we don’t. Anxiety and depression are the same – there’s a chemical imbalance in the brain. In my case, my brain doesn’t produce enough serotonin. Telling an anxious person to calm down is like telling a diabetic to pray it goes away. It just doesn’t work like that.
As much as I didn’t want to ask for help, I realized I needed it. The first change I made was to see my therapist on a regular basis, not only in moments of crisis. Second, I agreed to take an antidepressant prescribed by my doctor. My third change was to reevaluate my relationships with others and with God. I never had a balance, only extremes, so I knew evaluating my relationships would be tough, but incredibly necessary.
Fast forward years later, and I’m doing fantastic. With the love and support of my husband, Michael, my children, my God, and my friends, I’m learning to live in the present and enjoy what’s in front of me.
To say I’m great every day would be a lie. There are highs and lows and even the in-between moments. But I’ve surrounded myself with an amazing community of supportive women. I have grown from learning to be vulnerable with those that have earned the right to hear my truth and being a safe space for them, too. Acknowledging my illness was half the battle. But the moment I realized I couldn’t do this alone was the moment my life changed forever.
Achea Redd Bio
Achea Redd is a mental health advocate, author of Be Free Be You and founder of Real Girls F.A.R.T. In early 2016, Achea Redd was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder. As a form of self-expression and healing, Achea Redd created her own blog, sharing her feelings about mental health and authenticity. The flow of support she received from the community compelled her to create Real Girls F.A.R.T. – a space to empower and equip women with the necessary tools to use their voices and become their best, most authentic selves. With her book releasing summer 2019, Achea uses her life experiences and mental health disorder to help women find their voice and let it out. She is also the official sponsor of Nationwide Children’s Hospital On Our Sleeves Movement.
