Sometimes I find it really difficult to leave the house. Even when I'm meeting my friends for a lovely lunch, I tend to arrive late for fear of them not really being there and it all being in my head or something. I mean, I KNOW that they will be there, but something holds me back and I leave just a little bit later than I ought to so that I know I won't be sat on my own like an idiot. It's strange, because I know when I was younger I was always early for everything - maybe that's where it stems from - a childhood and teenage years sat around waiting for other people being late. It must really annoy my friends, it annoys me because actually I want to be early, or at the very least, on time, but I can't seem to make myself leave. It doesn't help that my other half is perpetually late for everything and therefore encourages me to be even later. The thing is, when he is with me, I'm perfectly capable of leaving on time because I have the reassurance of another body, someone to look after me (yes I am lame enough to admit that having boyfriend handy does make me feel safe and secure) so I want to leave and get there on time/early, but then he drags his heels and makes me late. This means that people believe that I am always late for things......
You may also have noticed that I don't answer my phone....my ex flatmate once rang me in a panic because I'd called him about something and he thought it must be an emergency because I'd actually rang him (I was a bit worried that someone might have passed out in the shower because it kept turning itself on and off - turned out someone had left the shower on and gone out). I can think of two people I will ring and feel comfortable about it - my boyfriend and my sister. It's funny that my sister should be on the list since for the first 28 years of my life we didn't really get on at all and it's only in the last two years that we've become close enough to have a phone chat maybe once a week. I'd say this relationship has developed from a combination of dealing with our dad and my complete and utter adoration of my nieces, but at least we now talk. If anyone else calls me, there is a high chance I will see/hear the phone ring and will not answer. I'm not sure why this would be, I just don't feel comfortable talking on the phone. I'm quite happy to have a text conversation, but I don't like talking. Maybe it's because, if I'm talking to someone, I like to see their facial expressions, but I don't really know. The worst situation for me is calling a complete stranger, for example a bank or to order food - in this, internet ordering has saved my life. I will almost always pass the buck and get someone else to make the phone call if it is required. I mean, it's also true that I have a tendency to leave my phone in another room and not hear it ring, but sometimes I just don't feel 'safe' enough to talk. Please don't be insulted if this is the case, I promise it is not just you that I avoid talking to.
I don't know whether these things are a symptom of depression, a sign that I might also suffer anxiety or simply an indicator that I'm an introvert and like to keep to myself, but it's one of those things that goes through my weird and wonderful mind that I wanted to share with you all.
Tuesday, 27 August 2013
Wednesday, 21 August 2013
Life is a Rollercoaster....?
So the brain buzzes are starting to become less of an issue, and I feel less like I'm constantly suffering from head rushes, and so I wanted to talk about another couple of things that link to depression.
Firstly, if you've ever known anyone with any mental illness, you will understand what I mean by life is a rollercoaster for us. Some days I feel totally fine (like today), then the next day, for no real reason, all of those anxieties and fears creep back in and I doubt myself and doubt myself work. Sometimes the trigger is the smallest thing, like someone forgetting to include you in an email, or that niggling feeling that someone is avoiding catching your eye (when actually they're not at all) and sometimes there is no trigger, which makes you feel as though you are broken and useless - why else would you feel so sad and overwhelmed when there is no reason for it? Then the next day you could feel worse, you could feel better and it's all so bloody frustrating. To make matters worse, when the depression is kicking, I find that I can't distinguish between situations that are really rubbish and situations that only seem rubbish because I'm feeling down.
I've often described being depressed as feeling as though everything is swirly, like you're looking on the world through some weird glasses that make everything feel a little bit distant and a little bit unreal and this includes emotions so being depressed is something of a Catch 22 because once you start to feel down, things are more likely to make you feel down and you get pulled further and further into the swirly reality that makes everything seem so confused and 'wrong'. I guess this is where I'm coming from with my continued insistence that a depressed person doesn't need to be treated as though they are fragile, but rather that they have some worth. BUT the truly terrible thing is that *sometimes* even if you try to help a depressed person that they are great, that bit in the back of their brain will be telling them "they're just patronising you, they don't really mean it, they're just saying it". It's not that I don't trust your opinion, it's that the praise has to actually mean something; it as to be for something and not just praise for the sake of praise.
Dear God, I'm demanding aren't I? My brain doesn't work properly so I want you to work hard to convince me that I am useful to you!!!
Moving on.....I am a member of Mensa, maybe I'm a little bit too proud of this, but in some ways, to me, it's something that my depression can't take away from, something I can always be proud of even in my deepest despair. You see, being smart is something I've always been. I completely and utterly lack common sense, but I can solve complex problems....it's like a giant scale where someone has said "you there, you shall be smart, but to balance this we will make you useless at walking down the street without bumping into things". There has been a debate raging for quite some time on one of the Mensa forums (on LinkedIn), asking whether people felt that being hyper intelligent can make you prone to depression. I often find that I feel as though I'm thinking too hard about situations, I feel that compared to other people I am constantly overthinking, but my question is, is this because I'm smart, or is this because I am depressive and therefore my brain works differently? At the risk of seeming arrogant, I do tend to see the big picture much more clearly than other people and I sometimes find it hard to comprehend that other people can't just make the links that I do, and sometimes I am convinced I make links that aren't there, particularly when I'm already spiralling down. My boyfriend finds it fascinating that I often know ahead of times about something that is meant to be a secret because my brain has already worked it out and made the connections, but I don't always get it right. So is it a blessing or is it a curse? Am I depressed BECAUSE of this clarity or are the two things completely separate? Is this the clarity all in my head and a symptom of the depression?
As I type this, I find myself thinking that everyone who reads it will probably think less of me, but I want to make sure that people understand some of what goes through my mind, which will, perhaps, help them to understand a friend or a loved one who may be going through something similar. The negative side of me worries constantly that everything I type in this blog will make people dislike me despite knowing that my friends are my friends for a reason, but in particular when I write something like this, something that could make me look arrogant or abrasive or just a bit of a dick.
Firstly, if you've ever known anyone with any mental illness, you will understand what I mean by life is a rollercoaster for us. Some days I feel totally fine (like today), then the next day, for no real reason, all of those anxieties and fears creep back in and I doubt myself and doubt myself work. Sometimes the trigger is the smallest thing, like someone forgetting to include you in an email, or that niggling feeling that someone is avoiding catching your eye (when actually they're not at all) and sometimes there is no trigger, which makes you feel as though you are broken and useless - why else would you feel so sad and overwhelmed when there is no reason for it? Then the next day you could feel worse, you could feel better and it's all so bloody frustrating. To make matters worse, when the depression is kicking, I find that I can't distinguish between situations that are really rubbish and situations that only seem rubbish because I'm feeling down.
I've often described being depressed as feeling as though everything is swirly, like you're looking on the world through some weird glasses that make everything feel a little bit distant and a little bit unreal and this includes emotions so being depressed is something of a Catch 22 because once you start to feel down, things are more likely to make you feel down and you get pulled further and further into the swirly reality that makes everything seem so confused and 'wrong'. I guess this is where I'm coming from with my continued insistence that a depressed person doesn't need to be treated as though they are fragile, but rather that they have some worth. BUT the truly terrible thing is that *sometimes* even if you try to help a depressed person that they are great, that bit in the back of their brain will be telling them "they're just patronising you, they don't really mean it, they're just saying it". It's not that I don't trust your opinion, it's that the praise has to actually mean something; it as to be for something and not just praise for the sake of praise.
Dear God, I'm demanding aren't I? My brain doesn't work properly so I want you to work hard to convince me that I am useful to you!!!
Moving on.....I am a member of Mensa, maybe I'm a little bit too proud of this, but in some ways, to me, it's something that my depression can't take away from, something I can always be proud of even in my deepest despair. You see, being smart is something I've always been. I completely and utterly lack common sense, but I can solve complex problems....it's like a giant scale where someone has said "you there, you shall be smart, but to balance this we will make you useless at walking down the street without bumping into things". There has been a debate raging for quite some time on one of the Mensa forums (on LinkedIn), asking whether people felt that being hyper intelligent can make you prone to depression. I often find that I feel as though I'm thinking too hard about situations, I feel that compared to other people I am constantly overthinking, but my question is, is this because I'm smart, or is this because I am depressive and therefore my brain works differently? At the risk of seeming arrogant, I do tend to see the big picture much more clearly than other people and I sometimes find it hard to comprehend that other people can't just make the links that I do, and sometimes I am convinced I make links that aren't there, particularly when I'm already spiralling down. My boyfriend finds it fascinating that I often know ahead of times about something that is meant to be a secret because my brain has already worked it out and made the connections, but I don't always get it right. So is it a blessing or is it a curse? Am I depressed BECAUSE of this clarity or are the two things completely separate? Is this the clarity all in my head and a symptom of the depression?
As I type this, I find myself thinking that everyone who reads it will probably think less of me, but I want to make sure that people understand some of what goes through my mind, which will, perhaps, help them to understand a friend or a loved one who may be going through something similar. The negative side of me worries constantly that everything I type in this blog will make people dislike me despite knowing that my friends are my friends for a reason, but in particular when I write something like this, something that could make me look arrogant or abrasive or just a bit of a dick.
Monday, 19 August 2013
Making it all go away
Ok, I admit it, I'm a people watcher. When I'm out and about I like to watch people and admire their idiosyncrasies. When I'm shopping I look at the purchases of other customers and try to figure out what type of person they are, or what they might be cooking that night. On the bus I find myself listening to conversations and half wanting to join in..... I realise I'm not alone in this, in fact, I suspect most people do it so I was thinking about this as I wandered around Waitrose yesterday afternoon and couldn't help but wonder what the people there were noticing about me.
This isn't a symptom of depression by the way, but for the last two days I have been struggling with the withdrawal effects of the anti depressants so I felt it was time to write a post about this aspect of my illness as I'm sure the people in Waitrose must have been wondering what on earth was wrong with me.
About 6 weeks ago I ran out of medication, I dutifully emailed my doctors surgery to order some more, but just didn't get round to collecting them. I thought nothing of it until about a week later when all of a sudden I was overwhelmed with a wave of dizziness while out walking with my boyfriend. I have always thought withdrawal, like jet lag, was merely a thing people complained about, that wasn't really a big deal. Turns out I was wrong; I have never felt anything like the dizziness and I had to sit very still for several hours because every time I moved my head spun. The next morning I apologised to work for being late and went via the doctors to get more medicine and did some research into coming off this medication carefully.
Escitalopram, the drug I'm on, isn't listed as having massive side affects, however if you search on Google for escitalporam withdrawal you will find a whole host of people who disagree with this - the first thing people complained of was overwhelming dizziness followed by 'shocks' through their whole body. The people on one of the sites I looked at suggested the best way to come off was to lower your dose each day, changing the dose each week - rather than, say, take a pill one day and skip the next, take half a pill every day. Over the last month or so I took half a pill for two weeks then a third of a pill for a week, then I stopped taking the medication all together. The last pill was ten days ago and for the last 5 days I've been suffering from withdrawal to the extreme, but I am determined to get myself off the medicine, as I feel I don't need it anymore. Two days ago I finally had one of the shocks that other people had described and yesterday I had a number of them - when I read about them I had assumed that it would feel like an electric shock running through your system, but what I actually felt was more like a dizzy buzz throughout my system, emanating from my brain - like dizziness multiplied by ten. In fact, after my shopping trip I had to just sit in my car for a bit before I felt safe to drive home and even then I had to go upstairs and sit down for quite a while. I ate a banana when I walked through the door and that seemed to help too.
The other thing I'm finding about the withdrawal is that I can't concentrate on a conversation for a decent amount of time and I have to keep apologising as I zone in and out - particularly bad when I'm more dizzy and suffering shocks. The dizziness and shocks are also accompanied by a feeling of overwhelming sadness, which fortunately passes quite quickly.
My understanding is that these feelings won't last for too long and if I wanted a quick fix I could quite simply just take another pill but I'd like to use the time I've got off work to get myself sorted and drug free. This is a word of warning for those of you who know me however, please bear with me if I appear to not be focusing on our conversation - I'll get there in the end!!
This isn't a symptom of depression by the way, but for the last two days I have been struggling with the withdrawal effects of the anti depressants so I felt it was time to write a post about this aspect of my illness as I'm sure the people in Waitrose must have been wondering what on earth was wrong with me.
About 6 weeks ago I ran out of medication, I dutifully emailed my doctors surgery to order some more, but just didn't get round to collecting them. I thought nothing of it until about a week later when all of a sudden I was overwhelmed with a wave of dizziness while out walking with my boyfriend. I have always thought withdrawal, like jet lag, was merely a thing people complained about, that wasn't really a big deal. Turns out I was wrong; I have never felt anything like the dizziness and I had to sit very still for several hours because every time I moved my head spun. The next morning I apologised to work for being late and went via the doctors to get more medicine and did some research into coming off this medication carefully.
Escitalopram, the drug I'm on, isn't listed as having massive side affects, however if you search on Google for escitalporam withdrawal you will find a whole host of people who disagree with this - the first thing people complained of was overwhelming dizziness followed by 'shocks' through their whole body. The people on one of the sites I looked at suggested the best way to come off was to lower your dose each day, changing the dose each week - rather than, say, take a pill one day and skip the next, take half a pill every day. Over the last month or so I took half a pill for two weeks then a third of a pill for a week, then I stopped taking the medication all together. The last pill was ten days ago and for the last 5 days I've been suffering from withdrawal to the extreme, but I am determined to get myself off the medicine, as I feel I don't need it anymore. Two days ago I finally had one of the shocks that other people had described and yesterday I had a number of them - when I read about them I had assumed that it would feel like an electric shock running through your system, but what I actually felt was more like a dizzy buzz throughout my system, emanating from my brain - like dizziness multiplied by ten. In fact, after my shopping trip I had to just sit in my car for a bit before I felt safe to drive home and even then I had to go upstairs and sit down for quite a while. I ate a banana when I walked through the door and that seemed to help too.
The other thing I'm finding about the withdrawal is that I can't concentrate on a conversation for a decent amount of time and I have to keep apologising as I zone in and out - particularly bad when I'm more dizzy and suffering shocks. The dizziness and shocks are also accompanied by a feeling of overwhelming sadness, which fortunately passes quite quickly.
My understanding is that these feelings won't last for too long and if I wanted a quick fix I could quite simply just take another pill but I'd like to use the time I've got off work to get myself sorted and drug free. This is a word of warning for those of you who know me however, please bear with me if I appear to not be focusing on our conversation - I'll get there in the end!!
Sunday, 18 August 2013
Totally Alone
I want to start with a thank you for all of the support and lovely messages I have received this weekend - quite alone from the cathartic affect of getting things off my chest, it has been a real positive boost, however, the really special thing for me have been those people who have sent me a private message to let me know that they too have been suffering from depression and my being open and honest has helped them to cope. This has made me feel like I have made the right decision.
I want to talk about two things now - one of the things that led to my becoming more open about my illness and secondly, what I feel to be one of the most difficult, but common symptoms that I struggle with.
I'll start with something that happened a couple of years ago in my work place - I won't go into too much detail, but merely summarise the bits that affected me: a colleague of mine, who I was friends with, made a number of accusations towards my work place, one of which was that they were not supportive of people with mental illness. As you may have read in my previous post, I feel I am incredibly fortunate with the high level of support I have received from both my employer and my colleagues so this accusation made me a little bit angry. The upshot of the case was that one medical professional felt that this colleague was suffering from borderline personality disorder, but she refuted this and felt that all of her claims were true and that she was suffering from depression and was not supported. Earlier this year it was hauled before a tribunal where I found myself standing up in front of some of my colleagues, my employer and 3 judges to talk about my mental illness. What saddens me is that it is very probable that the colleague making accusations does suffer from BPD, and with treatment she could have moved on and dealt with things, but she obviously didn't want to accept the stigma that comes from having a serious mental problem. Her refusal to accept this diagnosis, however, caused so much stress and anxiety to the people around her, as well as costing both my employer and her parents a significant amount of money. The case led me to realise two things: firstly, I need to be more open about my own issues, and secondly, people need to understand mental illness better. It's still taken me 6 months to build up the courage to talk about it myself, but if more people can understand mental illness then maybe they can help themselves and each other more effectively.
Ok, so moving on from that, I want to talk about the title of this post. There is a song by The Offspring which contains the lyric "have you ever walked through a room, but it was more like the room passed around you". When I first heard this, I was about 15, but I immediately felt like I knew what they were talking about. That feeling of being surrounded by people, but that you are not connecting or communicating with them in any way. I get that feeling a lot.....for a number of years I secretly avoided going in the staff room at work because I just became overwhelmed by all the conversations going on around me - it felt like everyone was talking, but I was in no way able to join in any conversation. I feel like an outsider, separate from the group. This may surprise many of you who would see me as someone who is always comfortable and confident in a crowd, but those of you who know me well won't be surprised to learn that it is all a cover - the louder I am, the more terrified and lonely I am. If I don't know people I will desperately try to feel like I belong by forcing myself into conversations, often appearing rude or pushy, but it is all a coping strategy because deep down inside I feel like I'm not good enough to be part of this group. Even now, in work, while I try to go into the staff room as often as possible, I often feel separate and as though I'm watching everyone else as an outsider. I'd like to be clear that this is no reflection on my colleagues, who are the most wonderful, kind and inclusive bunch of people you could ever work with! They're certainly not leaving me out, in fact, I suspect it is I who withdraws from the conversation or lacks the ability to join in unless specifically invited, but it remains the case that in daily life I often feel like I am totally alone even when surrounded by people who I care about and who I know care about me. It is a strange feeling, which I know is common among we depressives as it is one that is often expressed to me by people I have talked to who suffer from depression themselves. To someone who doesn't suffer from depression, it must be a completely alien concept as, even writing it down, it seems strange to say. To people who do have this illness, I want you to know something which has taken me a while to understand......it's your illness talking, you are not an outsider and people do care. Maybe some groups of people do unconsciously make you feel like an outsider, but if that is the case then you need to find the group of people that don't make you feel that way. People do care, they just don't always know how to show it.
I do want to mention something else, however, that occurred after the court case - my colleagues, as a whole, were very supportive, one friend in particular, though, suddenly started treating me as though I was some sort of fragile being that needed special care, which put a strain on our friendship and I have had to work hard to help him realise that I don't need that. A depressed person doesn't need special treatment, we need to be treated like we're human beings, although emphasis on the positive aspects of our lives doesn't hurt ;)
Anyway, thank you again
x
I want to talk about two things now - one of the things that led to my becoming more open about my illness and secondly, what I feel to be one of the most difficult, but common symptoms that I struggle with.
I'll start with something that happened a couple of years ago in my work place - I won't go into too much detail, but merely summarise the bits that affected me: a colleague of mine, who I was friends with, made a number of accusations towards my work place, one of which was that they were not supportive of people with mental illness. As you may have read in my previous post, I feel I am incredibly fortunate with the high level of support I have received from both my employer and my colleagues so this accusation made me a little bit angry. The upshot of the case was that one medical professional felt that this colleague was suffering from borderline personality disorder, but she refuted this and felt that all of her claims were true and that she was suffering from depression and was not supported. Earlier this year it was hauled before a tribunal where I found myself standing up in front of some of my colleagues, my employer and 3 judges to talk about my mental illness. What saddens me is that it is very probable that the colleague making accusations does suffer from BPD, and with treatment she could have moved on and dealt with things, but she obviously didn't want to accept the stigma that comes from having a serious mental problem. Her refusal to accept this diagnosis, however, caused so much stress and anxiety to the people around her, as well as costing both my employer and her parents a significant amount of money. The case led me to realise two things: firstly, I need to be more open about my own issues, and secondly, people need to understand mental illness better. It's still taken me 6 months to build up the courage to talk about it myself, but if more people can understand mental illness then maybe they can help themselves and each other more effectively.
Ok, so moving on from that, I want to talk about the title of this post. There is a song by The Offspring which contains the lyric "have you ever walked through a room, but it was more like the room passed around you". When I first heard this, I was about 15, but I immediately felt like I knew what they were talking about. That feeling of being surrounded by people, but that you are not connecting or communicating with them in any way. I get that feeling a lot.....for a number of years I secretly avoided going in the staff room at work because I just became overwhelmed by all the conversations going on around me - it felt like everyone was talking, but I was in no way able to join in any conversation. I feel like an outsider, separate from the group. This may surprise many of you who would see me as someone who is always comfortable and confident in a crowd, but those of you who know me well won't be surprised to learn that it is all a cover - the louder I am, the more terrified and lonely I am. If I don't know people I will desperately try to feel like I belong by forcing myself into conversations, often appearing rude or pushy, but it is all a coping strategy because deep down inside I feel like I'm not good enough to be part of this group. Even now, in work, while I try to go into the staff room as often as possible, I often feel separate and as though I'm watching everyone else as an outsider. I'd like to be clear that this is no reflection on my colleagues, who are the most wonderful, kind and inclusive bunch of people you could ever work with! They're certainly not leaving me out, in fact, I suspect it is I who withdraws from the conversation or lacks the ability to join in unless specifically invited, but it remains the case that in daily life I often feel like I am totally alone even when surrounded by people who I care about and who I know care about me. It is a strange feeling, which I know is common among we depressives as it is one that is often expressed to me by people I have talked to who suffer from depression themselves. To someone who doesn't suffer from depression, it must be a completely alien concept as, even writing it down, it seems strange to say. To people who do have this illness, I want you to know something which has taken me a while to understand......it's your illness talking, you are not an outsider and people do care. Maybe some groups of people do unconsciously make you feel like an outsider, but if that is the case then you need to find the group of people that don't make you feel that way. People do care, they just don't always know how to show it.
I do want to mention something else, however, that occurred after the court case - my colleagues, as a whole, were very supportive, one friend in particular, though, suddenly started treating me as though I was some sort of fragile being that needed special care, which put a strain on our friendship and I have had to work hard to help him realise that I don't need that. A depressed person doesn't need special treatment, we need to be treated like we're human beings, although emphasis on the positive aspects of our lives doesn't hurt ;)
Anyway, thank you again
x
Friday, 16 August 2013
My 'coming out'
People have often said to me over the last ten years that my life sounds like a soap opera....that if it were a story in Eastenders, people wouldn't find it believable....because of this I have decided to start blogging some of the more random things that happen to me as well as to document some of the more pertinent features of my life....
But before I start there is something important I want to share with everyone, something that I need to get out there in the world. That's right I'm coming out...
Ok, I got you all there - I'm sure you all thought "but you've had a boyfriend for the last three years". I'm not talking about announcing I'm gay; indeed in today's world there is less social stigma around being gay then there is about my issue. That's right, I want the world to know that I suffer from depression, regularly, and I'm not just talking about feeling a little bit down every now and again. I mean, full blown, suicidal thoughts and drugged up to the nines....Now the reason I'm announcing this for all the world to know is that I am fed up with all the stigma surrounding this illness - it's not a sign of being weak, it's not something that only weirdos suffer, it's very simple, my body can't produce serotonin properly so when a 'normal' person gets sad, their body compensates and gives them serotonin to make them feel better, mine can't so I need to take drugs to help it. That I am able to identify when I am struggling to cope and seek help, either medically, through diet or through forcing my friends to help give myself a boost would seem to me to be a strength and not a weakness, but there we go.
Let's go back to the beginning - I was first diagnosed after my first year of university - I wasn't myself from early on-used to being the big fish in a small pond, I couldn't cope with the chaos of the city. That's not to say I didn't love the city, it was just a bit of a shock to me. Add to that a boyfriend in Cambridge who wasn't happy, a mum who blamed me for imagined financial issues and you can understand why I was feeling under pressure. I also had a couple of old friends at Uni with me, but I was struggling to make close female friends of my own, and although I had plenty of male friends (always been the case), quite often they were hoping for a bit more than friends and I was attached. When my boyfriend and I finally broke up and I returned home for the summer, I guess it was the final straw to find that my bedroom had been turned into a dumping ground for all the crap my parents didn't want anymore. I had my first (of many), flip outs - this is something that I'm certain is not unique to me, but when it all gets too much I lose all control of reason and I get incredibly angry, then can't stop crying - I feel as though everyone is out to get me and I tend to find myself crying in a corner somewhere with no real understanding of why I had previously felt so angry and feeling a little embarrassed at the way I had treated people. I can think of at least 5 times I have done this over the last ten years - twice I ended up medicated after, twice I was lucky that the people with me understood and forgave me and once I ended up losing friends because, after all, who wants to be friends with an irrational bitch? It has only been in the last 4 years that I have come to recognise these flip outs as a sign of depression returning and so I can cope with it and deal with it.
I just want to be clear - I'm not making excuses for my behaviour here - I have been a grade A bitch when I've been struggling to cope, I'm just hoping that by writing this down, maybe someone out there will recognise these symptoms in themselves and be able to get help before they destroy friendships or before things get so bad that they think about self harm or, even worse, suicide.
Thankfully, I have only ever once been suicidally depressed - I have often had that feeling of "the world would be a better place if I weren't in it", but I have only once seriously considered doing something about it and that was the very first time I was depressed. I'd like to think that now I am strong enough to recognise when I am not well and do something about it instead of spiralling down and getting worse - I should be clear now, it was about 6 months after I first felt bad that I finally felt suicidal so if I'd only known what was wrong, maybe I'd never have had that experience in the first place.
I consider myself to be lucky - I have amazing friends and colleagues who support me - my employer knows about my history, even offered me some time off when I went back on anti depressants earlier this year, but more importantly, I am lucky because I don't feel embarrassed to admit that I have a mental illness that will probably continue to affect me my whole life. Statistically speaking, women are much more likely to be depressed than men and if you have suffered depression more than once, you are much more likely to keep suffering it throughout your life. This makes sense to me since a one off depression is caused by a lack of serotonin, whereas regular depressions suggest that your body struggles to produce it. To me, I don't have a mental illness, I have illness caused by a deficiency in my body - if you want to look down on me as weak for this, that's your prerogative, but I can't consider it to be a weakness.
Now, most of my depressions over the last eleven years have been minor - I've found myself crying at things that just aren't that sad (adverts, books, soap operas) and I'd consider that a warning and tell someone or it'd just pass by itself and I'd feel better after a few weeks, but the most recent one has put me back on the medication again for the first time since I was a teenager so I think it's important to outline how I felt:
My dad has been seriously ill for the last 2 and a half years, he was diagnosed with a brain tumour and the hospital decided to take a biopsy. There was a problem with the biopsy which led to a bleed in his brain and it is my opinion that the hospital didn't treat this properly. The bleed left my father with no balance, no proper control of the right side of his body and a difficulty in speaking. He went from being the most fit and active 62 year old imaginable (surfing and 90 minutes of football a week), to being completely unable to do anything himself. Over the past two years he has learnt some independence so he can feed himself if the food is cut up, he can transfer himself from an armchair to wheelchair and his speech is at least understandable. That said, he has struggled emotionally and is often like a tantrum-y child. And guess who gets a lot of the tantrums......? You hear a lot about people who gracefully deal with illnesses and being suddenly wheelchair bound - that is not my dad. He is rude, aggressive and sometimes, downright irrational. I found myself driving for between 5 and 6 hours each way, once a month, to help him out and it was exhausting me. Dad agreed to go into a home for a month to give us a break and after less than 24 hours he was ringing me to rant about how awful it was - unfortunately this coincided with my school being inspected and I just couldn't cope. This time I didn't recognise the symptoms, but my boyfriend did - we went to visit dad and he took me to one side and said he was worried - I was getting angry at things my dad was saying that didn't usually bother me, everything was upsetting me and I was a mess. As soon as he pointed this out to me I realised he was right, and I needed help. I went to see my GP, who was very understanding and offered me medication to deal with it - in this situation it was the right decision because I couldn't cope and I wasn't functioning in any way that I could begin to feel better. The doctor helped me to realise that I shouldn't feel guilty about not always being able to help my dad and nor should I feel guilty about wanting a break- I've now had to declare that I'm only visiting once every 2 months so that I can have some time to recover and get on with my life.
I'm in a situation whereby I can see that my life is 90% perfect, apart from my dad; I have a lot to be happy about so, naturally, I have decided to come off the medicine. Unfortunately I have discovered the fun side affects of withdrawal, which may make me think twice about taking medication again (feeling so dizzy and unable to concentrate that I break off mid sentence during a conversation as well as feeling drowsy and headachey), but I think if I was feeling as bad as I did a few months ago I probably would consider taking them because it has made a difference and did help me to cope when things were bad.
I'll finish writing now so I can drive back home, but I just want to make sure that everyone who might read this understands that depression isn't a weakness and to understand how important it is to not treat people differently because they suffer from it - 99% of the time you won't know when I'm in the depth of a depression because I'm still me and the easiest way to help me is not to treat me like I'm fragile or in need of care, but to understand that I don't have enough serotonin so I need a boost - whether that be some positive news, a fun day out, some serotonin boosting foods or, occasionally, some medication to help my body compensate. I'm not weak, pathetic or someone to avoid, I'm someone with an illness who is doing their best to fight it and to get by.
Thank you and I hope that no one thinks badly of me for being so honest.
But before I start there is something important I want to share with everyone, something that I need to get out there in the world. That's right I'm coming out...
Ok, I got you all there - I'm sure you all thought "but you've had a boyfriend for the last three years". I'm not talking about announcing I'm gay; indeed in today's world there is less social stigma around being gay then there is about my issue. That's right, I want the world to know that I suffer from depression, regularly, and I'm not just talking about feeling a little bit down every now and again. I mean, full blown, suicidal thoughts and drugged up to the nines....Now the reason I'm announcing this for all the world to know is that I am fed up with all the stigma surrounding this illness - it's not a sign of being weak, it's not something that only weirdos suffer, it's very simple, my body can't produce serotonin properly so when a 'normal' person gets sad, their body compensates and gives them serotonin to make them feel better, mine can't so I need to take drugs to help it. That I am able to identify when I am struggling to cope and seek help, either medically, through diet or through forcing my friends to help give myself a boost would seem to me to be a strength and not a weakness, but there we go.
Let's go back to the beginning - I was first diagnosed after my first year of university - I wasn't myself from early on-used to being the big fish in a small pond, I couldn't cope with the chaos of the city. That's not to say I didn't love the city, it was just a bit of a shock to me. Add to that a boyfriend in Cambridge who wasn't happy, a mum who blamed me for imagined financial issues and you can understand why I was feeling under pressure. I also had a couple of old friends at Uni with me, but I was struggling to make close female friends of my own, and although I had plenty of male friends (always been the case), quite often they were hoping for a bit more than friends and I was attached. When my boyfriend and I finally broke up and I returned home for the summer, I guess it was the final straw to find that my bedroom had been turned into a dumping ground for all the crap my parents didn't want anymore. I had my first (of many), flip outs - this is something that I'm certain is not unique to me, but when it all gets too much I lose all control of reason and I get incredibly angry, then can't stop crying - I feel as though everyone is out to get me and I tend to find myself crying in a corner somewhere with no real understanding of why I had previously felt so angry and feeling a little embarrassed at the way I had treated people. I can think of at least 5 times I have done this over the last ten years - twice I ended up medicated after, twice I was lucky that the people with me understood and forgave me and once I ended up losing friends because, after all, who wants to be friends with an irrational bitch? It has only been in the last 4 years that I have come to recognise these flip outs as a sign of depression returning and so I can cope with it and deal with it.
I just want to be clear - I'm not making excuses for my behaviour here - I have been a grade A bitch when I've been struggling to cope, I'm just hoping that by writing this down, maybe someone out there will recognise these symptoms in themselves and be able to get help before they destroy friendships or before things get so bad that they think about self harm or, even worse, suicide.
Thankfully, I have only ever once been suicidally depressed - I have often had that feeling of "the world would be a better place if I weren't in it", but I have only once seriously considered doing something about it and that was the very first time I was depressed. I'd like to think that now I am strong enough to recognise when I am not well and do something about it instead of spiralling down and getting worse - I should be clear now, it was about 6 months after I first felt bad that I finally felt suicidal so if I'd only known what was wrong, maybe I'd never have had that experience in the first place.
I consider myself to be lucky - I have amazing friends and colleagues who support me - my employer knows about my history, even offered me some time off when I went back on anti depressants earlier this year, but more importantly, I am lucky because I don't feel embarrassed to admit that I have a mental illness that will probably continue to affect me my whole life. Statistically speaking, women are much more likely to be depressed than men and if you have suffered depression more than once, you are much more likely to keep suffering it throughout your life. This makes sense to me since a one off depression is caused by a lack of serotonin, whereas regular depressions suggest that your body struggles to produce it. To me, I don't have a mental illness, I have illness caused by a deficiency in my body - if you want to look down on me as weak for this, that's your prerogative, but I can't consider it to be a weakness.
Now, most of my depressions over the last eleven years have been minor - I've found myself crying at things that just aren't that sad (adverts, books, soap operas) and I'd consider that a warning and tell someone or it'd just pass by itself and I'd feel better after a few weeks, but the most recent one has put me back on the medication again for the first time since I was a teenager so I think it's important to outline how I felt:
My dad has been seriously ill for the last 2 and a half years, he was diagnosed with a brain tumour and the hospital decided to take a biopsy. There was a problem with the biopsy which led to a bleed in his brain and it is my opinion that the hospital didn't treat this properly. The bleed left my father with no balance, no proper control of the right side of his body and a difficulty in speaking. He went from being the most fit and active 62 year old imaginable (surfing and 90 minutes of football a week), to being completely unable to do anything himself. Over the past two years he has learnt some independence so he can feed himself if the food is cut up, he can transfer himself from an armchair to wheelchair and his speech is at least understandable. That said, he has struggled emotionally and is often like a tantrum-y child. And guess who gets a lot of the tantrums......? You hear a lot about people who gracefully deal with illnesses and being suddenly wheelchair bound - that is not my dad. He is rude, aggressive and sometimes, downright irrational. I found myself driving for between 5 and 6 hours each way, once a month, to help him out and it was exhausting me. Dad agreed to go into a home for a month to give us a break and after less than 24 hours he was ringing me to rant about how awful it was - unfortunately this coincided with my school being inspected and I just couldn't cope. This time I didn't recognise the symptoms, but my boyfriend did - we went to visit dad and he took me to one side and said he was worried - I was getting angry at things my dad was saying that didn't usually bother me, everything was upsetting me and I was a mess. As soon as he pointed this out to me I realised he was right, and I needed help. I went to see my GP, who was very understanding and offered me medication to deal with it - in this situation it was the right decision because I couldn't cope and I wasn't functioning in any way that I could begin to feel better. The doctor helped me to realise that I shouldn't feel guilty about not always being able to help my dad and nor should I feel guilty about wanting a break- I've now had to declare that I'm only visiting once every 2 months so that I can have some time to recover and get on with my life.
I'm in a situation whereby I can see that my life is 90% perfect, apart from my dad; I have a lot to be happy about so, naturally, I have decided to come off the medicine. Unfortunately I have discovered the fun side affects of withdrawal, which may make me think twice about taking medication again (feeling so dizzy and unable to concentrate that I break off mid sentence during a conversation as well as feeling drowsy and headachey), but I think if I was feeling as bad as I did a few months ago I probably would consider taking them because it has made a difference and did help me to cope when things were bad.
I'll finish writing now so I can drive back home, but I just want to make sure that everyone who might read this understands that depression isn't a weakness and to understand how important it is to not treat people differently because they suffer from it - 99% of the time you won't know when I'm in the depth of a depression because I'm still me and the easiest way to help me is not to treat me like I'm fragile or in need of care, but to understand that I don't have enough serotonin so I need a boost - whether that be some positive news, a fun day out, some serotonin boosting foods or, occasionally, some medication to help my body compensate. I'm not weak, pathetic or someone to avoid, I'm someone with an illness who is doing their best to fight it and to get by.
Thank you and I hope that no one thinks badly of me for being so honest.
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