The past few days a friend and I have been discussing living with depression. It was extremely enlightening and gratifying to find a friend had been through similar and often mirrored struggles to me. I thought I would share some of that here, because so often its hushed up by both sufferers and those around them, and lets face it, society as well.
In the modern world we live in, one in five people are suffering from some kind of mental illness, so look around at your five best friends. At least one of you has a mental illness. Is it you? I know its me. And now I know its at least one of my friends too.
I was nine when I first suffered from real depression, I had been severely bullied at 3 different primary schools, at the last one by my teacher, and I guess I finally cracked under the pressure, I don't really remember how it all manifested, my mum tells me I turned in the space of a few weeks from a very outgoing and loving child to a withdrawn and taciturn one. My counsellor a few years later told me I had blocked it all out, and I am certain this is the case, as I struggle to remember a lot of the things that went on, little things come back to me every few years and I think, oh, so that happened too.
At this time my parents removed me from mainstream school and put me on correspondence for two years, and we also moved across the country. We settled and after some time I felt brave enough to enter into mainstream school again and went to a intermediate-high school. I wasn't really recovered and showed how I was feeling through my actions. I ran away from home several times, even at one point disappearing from a trip to the nearby city, and my poor mother in desperation searching the streets for me. At one point I left during the night and had walked for almost an hour before my dad drove up beside me and took me home. Now I had a very loving and safe home life, I had nothing to really run away from, so in reality I was trying to run away from my feelings. Not that I understood that at the time. At the time I didn't really know what I was doing or why. My parents put me in counselling and after a year of that she proclaimed me "cured".
I didn't really face heavy depression again until I was seventeen, when I went (again) to the other end of the country, on my own this time, to study. I had a dreadful time there, ending up kicked out of the house I was staying in, at which point my so called "friends" refused to give me a place to stay. I slept in my car for a couple days, found an apartment and moved into it, having to first organise things so that I could sign a lease and move into an apartment, being still under age. The night I moved into my apartment, I had a long bath, smoked about 40 cigarettes in it, then got into my car and drove to a cliff. I sat there, staring out into blackness and imagined living there. How quiet it would be. How simple.
I have no idea how, or why, but I somehow didn't drive off that cliff. I turned around and drove back to the apartment. And then I lost it. I cried and cried and cried. Eventually my mum rang me, and at about two in the morning she talked me into my car and over the next two days I drove home. Once there I did what I now call hibernating, though I no longer have the luxury of doing it to that degree. I slept for about a week, and after that I just stayed in my mum and dads house, did cooking and cleaning, but didn't really venture outside, it actually scared me.
Some time later, we moved house, and the change of scenery helped me gather up my willpower and I went to a course to learn some computer skills. Where I met Paiges father.
The next time I faced depression, Paige was two, I went through what I still consider my hell year. Health problems, flatmate problems, ex problems, and then I crashed my car. The day before I was due in hospital for a minor procedure. I had very few real friends at this time either, so I felt I had no one to turn to or talk to.
This was the first time I was medicated. I was medicated for a depression and anxiety disorder, and was told I was a "worst case scenario" person, meaning that in any given situation I saw the absolute worst possible thing that would happen and it often paralysed me, I would sit on the couch staring into space for hours, sometimes I would realise I had been curled up in the corner of my bed and not know how long I had been there, but day would have turned into night, or even at times early morning. It took me a long time to get over this bout of depression. For a long time I was numb, I think sometimes people think that depression means you feel sad all the time, but for me, I felt -nothing. I breathed and laughed and talked and went through the motions of life, but I was completely vacant inside.
I was still medicated for this when I fell pregnant with the twins, and after. It somehow still took me 7 months to realise that I had post natal depression as well. From the traumatic birth of my twins, I also had post traumatic stress disorder, and for awhile they tried to figure out if I was bi-polar as well. I do have a very similar cycle of mood that seems bi-polar at times, I will have periods where I am extremely active, and happy and excited about everything happening around me, to me, and that I am doing. Then there are my "low" periods where I just barely get through my days, often procrastinate doing things. Have trouble getting out of bed and getting to sleep. During these times I do feel sad often, and seem to be on the brink of tears constantly. I also feel like someone has stuck a leather belt around my chest and pulled it tight. And then there are the "depressed times" when I feel vacant. Like I'm just not even really there any more. My body is doing what its meant to do, feeding kids, taking care of them, taking them to and from school cleaning the house, working. But me? I just seem to be in a little black hole somewhere just behind my navel, and I live there, watching and wishing I was somewhere else. I am just going through the motions.
People rarely know when I feel like this. I have long since mastered the art of putting on a brave face and getting on with the job at hand. But inside? I fight a daily battle with an internal demon called depression. I fight to stay on top of my mood and keep myself going. I fight just to get through the day.
I want to thank my friend for sharing her own experiences with me, it made me feel less alone, and spurred me to write this post, and share my own experiences with the world. Because for me, just knowing there was someone out there that understood, and not just said they did, but really understood me and what was going on inside me, it really helps. I really hope this helps someone else out there that may be facing the same demons, and for them to know they are not alone.
xx The Ramblings of Another Mother.
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