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Your Stories About Depression
Back from the brink
Written By:Jason Allison
Anybody who knows me thinks of a funny, outspoken loud mouth who loves a good laugh a drink and a party. I would be at the crux of the here and now, always on the edge of bizarre, lapping up attention like Nero. It seemed that I could not enjoy life more, but there was something I hid from all around me, something that bought me more shame than I can even describe in words. I was not the person I pretended to be, I was not happy, in fact, I was a mess inside.
A year ago my father passed away and I was unable to attend his funeral, I felt isolated and alone. I was miles from my family and had poor connections to those who were close. As far as I can figure, this is when the welling up of pain and emotion began. I just bottled everything up. I had people around me that I didn’t want to seem weak in front of, people that expected more of me. Friends would say “I dunno how you handle this so well”, but I wasn’t handling it, I was putting it on the back burner and let it fester away amidst other problems. I was adding fuel to an already smoldering fire.
The next year went by in a darkened haze, my drinking worsened and my health faltered. The more I put things off, the more I felt I was obliged to. The mere mention of certain things almost made me vomit fear and sadness and self hate. I would make excuses to leave because it was too much for me. I could actually feel a ball of pain building in my chest day after day. Then the horrible thoughts began. Thoughts of ending this life, thoughts of not being here and how much easier it would be. I could not do my favourite things without these thoughts invading my mind. When I would draw, play the guitar, even be with a woman, these thoughts pounded my consciousness daily. And all the while I laughed, had fun and made out I was ok.
This went on for some time, the sadness burning a hole in my chest and defiling my thoughts until it all became too much for me to handle. My mind thrashed from one extreme to the other, my body responded in kind. I had refused to trust in anyone else and it had led me to ruin. November 2011, I made an unwise, uncalculated choice; I decided to take my own life. Obviously I’m terrible at tying knots, or I just didn’t really want to die. Whatever was in my head that day, I’m still here. I lost my mind, terrified my housemates and felt a shame that I don’t know if I can ever erase, but I’m still here.
It’s in our darkest moments that the most unexpected people reach out to us. People who were merely acquaintances before become friends, people that understand, people that know. It somehow made me believe that I do have a purpose here. It made me believe that my job isn’t finished yet. It made me realise that I do have friends even though I never saw it. I can see through the murkiness now, my mind is clearing. I see that there will be a time when I am happy again.
I wrote this because I realise the shame I felt in admitting that I’m not ok may be the same thing that has led so many others to the terrible end I could have had. I wrote this because I hope someone sees, in my words, something that reflects in the way they feel too. I wrote this to say that I’m not ok…but that’s ok. I’m getting better every time I talk, think or write about it. I just look forward to paying off my new guitar and sitting on the banks of the Otepuni on a sunny day and chilling with my friends. That’s all I need at the moment, time to be real and true to myself. I’m not 100% yet, but I’ll get there.
It is possible to live with depression
Written By:Trisha
I was a happy outgoing child, until age 10 when puberty struck. Prior to that first period, I thought I had a brain tumour - I was so depressed, so unable to function. Physically sick each morning, swollen up and with head, back and limbs throbbing. I was bullied at school because of it, my unsympathic, Victorian mother told me get over it, even trying “to beat it out of me”.
I left home never to return again after. At teacher training college I made several suicide attempts, and was later told I could not teach children because of these. I left college, alone in London by myself, struggling to make ends meet in a dismal bedsit, I did whatever was legal to make ends meet, shop work, photocopying in offices, cleaning, anything, and often lost jobs when the PMS hit. Antidepressants didn’t work for me, just made me feel worse, so I didn’t take them beyond a few months, just one time. I never resorted to social security - I just didn’t eat some days. After meeting my husband and settling down we tried to create a happy family of our own; thank goodness for a lovely mother in law too.
I had three ops, then repeated IVF, and repeated miscarriages - oh, and on going PMS throughout everything. After the last baby died (twins) I hit three years of continual depression and had my first time off work for it. At 35, I decided no more medical intervention, which resulted in one last pregnancy and miscarriage. I went for cognitive therapy- the best thing ever - with a professor at Oxford, on the NHS, where I just happen to live. I discovered I had suffered from Complex Post Traumatic Syndrome as a child (continual bullying and beating) combined with reactive depression in between the hormonal depression (late luteral dysphoric dysfunction, which is an extreme form of PMS caused by a gene abnormality).
At forty, I started an early menopause and if things had been bad before, it was even worse now, continual PMS symptoms which didn’t abate for even a day and I felt suicidal again. I was sent to see Mr Studd in London and he prescribed continual HRT (no bleeds), it was uncomfortable at times, but lifted the depression and migraines enough to allow me to work. Too tired to go on holidays, I let my husband go alone though. At fifty, I went back to college and took an MA in art, which I now teach to older students.
Thankfully the severe depression ended with the end of the menopause at 47, and I went back to college to complete an MA at 50. I now teach to older students through an educational charity. The only problem now is SAD which hits each winter and came on after the menopause ended. From Nov to Feb I rarely do anything outside, no parties. After so much medical intervention (which I’ve always hated) I am off to the doc next week for the first time about this. I may not be able to use a light box as have had eyes ops in the past. My husband thinks new types of anti depressants may work this time? We’ll see! I have developed great abilities to just hold on, batton down the hatches and survive anything in life, and theres been a lot to survive at times! I have my own coping stratergies and am willing to talk to anyone who needs an understanding shoulder, as I do know what you are going through, but it can be got through, that is a promise.
23 year old - scared.
Written By:Michael
I am 23 years old. I am horrifically depressed. I don’t understand why. I have a good, sort-of-well-paid job, I have a fiancee who loves me and who I love in return, my family are loving and supportive and we are very close.
Yet for as long as I can remember, I have felt empty. Like there is a great black hole inside of me. I don’t feel like I am living my life, I feel as though I am drifting. Existing. To me that is not right.
I have this image which describes me perfectly. The world around me moves at high speed, everyone around me is a blur. And I am stood on this busy street pavement- stood totally still. Not moving whatsoever. I long for the day that I begin moving, I yearn for the day that I start living my life but right now, I don’t ever see that happening.
Last Thursday as I was walking home from work and I came to the main road just before my street and I saw a car coming towards me. For a split second, I thought about stepping out and letting the Toyota Aygo mow me down. I didn’t do it- obviously- but that is not the point, I should not be having these feelings. They are wrong.
I am awaiting to be referred to a mental health outpatient centre in Stoke-On-Trent. My new GP didn’t seem to care at all when I- and my fiancee- begged him for this referral. I am not expecting to hear off the outpatient centre. The NHS let me down when I was 17. I saw psychiatrists. Never the same one, the same things repeated over and over again. I doubt they would care now.
I don’t know what to do anymore or who to turn to. I want to be normal. My fiancee says I am, but I know I’m not. Normal people do not have thoughts allowing a car to run them over. Normal people do not have sudden, panicking thoughts about wanting to leave thier partners.
I am terrified.
Silent Scream
Written By:Anonymous
I had a breakdown in 1997 after 20 years of keeping to myself the sexual abuse I experienced at my Primary School.
I vowed never to speak of the traumatic events and promised myself to take it to my grave, as I never wanted to put my parents through the pain of knowing what had happended, thought I was strong enough to block it out and cope on my own, plus I felt guilty blaming myself for what had happended.
This was to prove impossible and following a failed engagement, broken marriage, stress and anxeity caused by work and numerous episodes of eractic behaviour that occurred during a period of 10 years, in my early 30’s I finally succumbed to the mental torture and could no longer cope with the burden and was diagnosed clinically depressed.
Like many that suffer with depression mine is a long and complex story and since my original diagnosis I have suffered several relapses to the point where I now accept that I am likely to suffer with boughts of depression for the rest of my life.
But what I can’t deal with after all these years are the memories of the abuse and despite efforts to undertsand and accept it was not my fault, I still don’t know how to cope with the memories and not a single day goes by without a flashback.
I am still receiving treatment (NHS have been fantastic over the years) and by joining this forum I see this as a further step towards my self healing process and this is the first time that I’ve ever written about my experience.
In doing so this has helped me in part to come to terms with the abuse and I hope by sharing my story this will enable others that have suffered similar experiences will feel empowered to take the first steps in dealing with their issues.
I am grateful to the national newspaper that published the article on depression and promoted the website ‘depression can be fun’ and its services.
bipolar woman w/ ECT brain damage
Written By:anonymous
I was diagnosed as bipolar over 15 years ago. I was a successful professional woman with kids and a husband. The medications quit working and I went into debilitating depression. Then electro convulsive shock treatment (otherwise known as ECT) was used to treat me. I have never been the same since. I suffer from short and long term memory loss. Sometimes I get easily confused and become unable to do a simple task I was able to do moments before. Facial recognition can be difficult for me. One day I may not know the person that is talking with me. I will not know if they are a colleague, friend, client,relative, or it could be a stranger just striking up a conversation. Hours later I may have no problem recognizing them. One day I can not figure out how to pay for a candy bar with the change in my hands and hours later I may be capable of doing math with no problem. I am very easily distracted and have a difficult time staying on task. There is no predicting when or how this damage will manifest itself. I was able to continue to be employed for years after by working 16 hour days and weekends to do what use to take me 40 hours. I became unable to do my job no matter how many hours I put in and am no longer working. I found a few people in the medical profession that were brave enough to admit that one of their medical procedures permanently damaged me and changed the course of my life. However, the brave psyciatrist that I had been seeing is no longer working. I can not find someone who will be open about the fact they are dealing with a bipolar woman AND that I have brain damage from ECT. Psyciatrists who are reluctant to be open about this tend to try to blame the brain damage symptoms on the depression. I am well aware of what my depression symptoms are and know the difference. I am trying to find a psychiatrist who can work respectfully with me, one that can be honest about what is going on with me. Usually the depression can be controlled with medication. I know that the brain damage can not be fixed. It is a part of who I am now. Does anybody out there know how to locate a psychiatrist able to work with someone like me ?
I am not looking to go after or blame someone for what happened. I just want to go on from here and deal realistically with who I am.