“Major Scaled”: it’s like dipping your iPod into a vat of liquid Prozac. Listen as this artist digitally converts minor-scaled songs into major-scaled songs.

(This is the sixteenth post in a series called “Anxiety Society”, in which I interview everyday anxiety sufferers from all walks of life about their struggles, their triumphs, their coping methods, and more. I believe that the more we openly talk about our mental health, the less of a “thing” it becomes. Conversation can reduce stigma, and my interviewees want to be a part of that.)

Meet Sveta.

She loves music, listening to bird calls, and reading. Although she’s just in her early twenties, she’s already been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and dysthymia. Her diagnoses follow a difficult and abusive childhood.

What makes Sveta’s story a bit different from most stories of PTSD and abuse is this: she’s also blind.

Although she can perceive colors and shapes, and distinguish between light and dark, that’s the extent of her visual ability. The blindness affects everything from her ability to escape triggering situations to her anxiety coping strategies. Her parents still largely control the minutae of her everyday life, so Sveta finds herself struggling to carve out her own strategies for controlling her environment.

Summer: Have you always been blind, or were you able to see at some point in your life?

Sveta: I was born 3 months and 2 weeks early. I was put on oxygen because I couldn’t breathe. The result was that not only could I breathe, but the blood vessels in my eyes grew too fast, forcing the retina and the eye apart.

SB: And you suffer from an anxiety disorder, correct? Do you mind sharing your diagnoses?

S: I have been diagnosed with dysthymia, also known as chronic depression and complex PTSD, which is like BPD but to a lesser degree.

SB: Do you feel the dysthymia was always present, or did it develop at some point in your life?

S: The dysthymia was always there for as long as I can remember. My parents used to make fun of my love for minor keys saying, “You only like songs where someone dies”. This, of course, isn’t true. I like the minor key, not the death. It happens, sometimes, that songs where someone dies are in minor keys. It also happens that in songs in minor keys, sometimes, someone dies.

Has anyone ever accused you of malingering — that is, faking sick? It’s all too common for those of us with illnesses that can’t easily be detected by the untrained everyman.

Larry’s antidepressant medication didn’t help to lighten his self-criticism. He tackled that piece on his own.

(This is the eighth post in a series called “Anxiety Society” in which I interview everyday anxiety suffers from all walks of life about their struggles, their triumphs, their coping methods, and more. I believe that the more we openly talk about our mental health, the less of a “thing” it becomes. Conversation can reduce stigma, and my interviewees want to be a part of that.)

Meet Larry Nocella: blogger and independent novelist. He sold his first article at the young age of 14 and “has been writing ever since,” he says. By day, Larry is full-time employee at marketing company and a (mostly former) sufferer of anxiety & depression. He lives, writes, and works in the greater Philadelphia area.

Just over a year ago, he “came out” on his blog as a user of antidepressant medication:

Do I tell you something I’d rather keep private? Or do I spill the ugly details?

I’ve decided to share. Why? Because of you of course. Yes, you. Reading this. You. Or maybe someone you know.

Because there is definitely a time when sharing beats silence, and that’s if you can help people. Mom was all about helping people, so while I lean toward her style of privacy, I think she’d appreciate why I’ve decided to come out.

What I’m trying to tell you is I take an anti-depressant. Were you expecting me to say something else?

Larry and I talked about his anxiety, depression, his medication use, and his optimism for the future.