This week it was World Mental Health Day...
I've touched on my own mental health briefly when related to the other articles I've written so far, but I thought this would be the right time to share my own mental health story given it's been at the front of many people's minds this week and the conversation about it, is currently open.
This post is a bit of a long one (cuppa advised), but I hope by sharing this, there might be some points that'll provide comfort to others who have felt or are feeling the same way. Reason being, each time I was depressed, I spent countless hours looking online for ways to explain how I was feeling. "Black cloud"and "black hole" weren't descriptions that quite cut it, so perhaps this could be one of those articles which helps someone else to go "aha"... maybe?
I suffer from Depression and Anxiety. Depression has been defined as "sadness that lasts for weeks", where as Anxiety has been defined as "a feeling of fear or panic" but if it lasts past a difficult situation finishing, then it could be a problem.
Anxiety in a way, is helpful to me because it's the first red flag that my mood is on the decline, even if it feels horrible. I don't suffer anxiety severely because I don't have panic attacks but I can have a couple of days of that nervous energy/almost butterfly feeling in the pit of my stomach which I can't explain and makes me feel like something bad is going to happen. Depression on the other hand kind of creeps up on me, until I realise that I've been down for weeks or as with the most recent time, months.
So far in my life, I have had three depressive episodes. "So far" because I have prepared myself that this could happen again at any point - it's not circumstantial as I first thought.
The first episode, as crazy as it sounds, wasn't as upsetting as the other two, because there was a very real and so guilt-less reason as to why I was struggling. It was the most severe because my suicidal thoughts got to a point where I ransacked the bathroom looking for enough pills to take, but in a way, when I got help and the situation got slightly better, I could see a light at the end of the tunnel.
The second episode was by far the most painful and longest. It lasted around 18 months and it took probably 6 months for me to realise what was going on because this time there was no reason. I was in love, settled in a job and everything was good. For that reason, the guilty feeling for having these feelings meant I didn't want to talk about is and so I went without help for a really long time. I gave myself a harder time too for being selfish and I questioned everything I felt; how could I be in love and be sad? How could I not be happy, when I had no real problems? What the fuck was wrong with me that I was so self-involved?!
By the time the third episode rolled round, I knew enough from the 2nd time that there didn't have to be a reason and could self-diagnose pretty quickly. This was the most hopeless episode though as the thought of going through another 18 months of feeling this way, meant I wasn't numb this time, I was devastated.
All three episodes happened years apart. The first, I was 19 and there were serious problems at home. The 2nd time I was 26. The third, was just last year at 31.
I don't want to focus too much on why the first time happened but I do want to say that I didn't want to seriously hurt myself, I just wanted a break. My non-sensical thoughts at the time, wanted to put myself in hospital so I could just stop. I was exhausted from being in my first year of uni at Bournemouth full time, coming back to London every weekend to work, and dealing with an explosive home life. Always having been sensible, I could see even then from the outside looking in, that me looking for pills was not the right thing to do but in my emotional hysteria at 1am, I didn't care. Once I calmed down (thank god there wasn't anywhere near enough), I realised I needed help.
I went sick from work the next day (I was in London at the time) and when I got back to Bournemouth, I took myself to the Doctor and confessed all. I didn't want pills (my mum has always suffered from depression and I was aware of the withdrawal) so they referred me to a counsellor and signed me off work, to give me a rest.
The counselling sessions were fundamental in helping me fix how I felt. It wasn't CBT (I tried that in episode 2), it was just unburdening how I felt and not feeling guilty doing it as I knew the counsellor was being paid to listen. My friends at uni often commented that I didn't seem bothered by what was going on at home, but the truth is that I just compartmentalised it so I didn't have to think about it when I wasn't there. It was my way of coping and not feeling miserable all of the time. Disassociating from it though clearly did no good, because I kept going until my mind broke.
Talking to the counsellor was key for me because she was a safe unbiased adult to talk to. I love my parents but they had their own situations going on and any support they would have given me would be from a place that served their own interests too. I also didn't want to talk to any of my friends because I didn't want to be that emotionally draining person no one wants to be around - especially in the first year of uni when making friends is THE most important part. The counsellor gave me sound, logical advice and helped me work through that I wasn't responsible for what was going on and that I shouldn't be feeling responsible for my other siblings involved being away from home a lot of the time.
She helped me set some boundaries too. I slowly regained control of my part in the situation by distancing myself from it as much as I could and not feeling bad about it so that I could cope. I can't stress enough how important it is to just talk to someone and if you have no one in your life you feel OK doing that with, then counselling is amazing if you can get it (I know unfortunately there are lots of waiting lists now with the pressure on the NHS).
My second episode of depression crept up on me, and I think looking back, it happened once I felt settled in my then relationship and my career. A bit like getting sick when you have a break; your body relaxes and then boom! So while on that note, I think it's really, really important to point out that mental health is a sickness. It's no different to getting the flu but your brain is the part that's unwell. When you're physically sick, your brain can recognise it, but when your brain is unwell, you don't have anything to tell you that this is what is happening. I want to make this point because when I was feeling hopeless, sometimes this was the only fact that helped me see I wasn't to blame.
With this episode of depression, I was very tearful, tired and irritable all of the time. I'd get angry very quickly and the smallest things would bring me to tears. I did feel a sadness underneath it all, but the snapping and crying were problematic. So much so, I wouldn't want to go out. One of the most significant memories that I have of this time is being in tears because I left my oyster at home and when I got to the station, I cried at the thought of having to walk back because I had no energy. I also remember, getting ready for our work Summerball one Saturday. My ex-boyfriend had paid for me to get my hair done to cheer me up (because I was down) and I broke down in tears before leaving because I felt like I was pretending to be happy and I just didn't want to go.
Despite all of these feelings and this irrational behaviour, I didn't click that I was depressed again. It felt totally different to the time before, and as mentioned, I didn't have a reason. It was only when I googled my symptoms "irritable", "tearful" and"numb" that NHS Direct told me what it was. I cried in relief because the site information made everything finally make sense.
As I didn't have any problems to talk through this time, I didn't want to see a counsellor and decided to go to the doctors to see if anti-depressants would be an option for me. I am pleased to say that the Doctor was one of the most understanding doctors I've ever had (cried on him too) and he reassured me, like my mum often did, that I wasn't well and I shouldn't feel ashamed of struggling. He also recommended a course of CBT to give me the tools I needed to change the way I thought about things, and self-manage it as much as I could.
The pills were miraculous. It took about a month for me to feel better, but compared to the last year of having no way out, it was a reassuring time to know I was doing something about it. With depression it's not like you wake up and realise you don't have a cold anymore. It was a realisation that I'd been a week for example without getting snappy or tearful and that I hadn't been thinking sadly for a while. It's a slow recovery.
The third episode happened by accident really. As I've mentioned in one of my articles already, I suffer from Migraines and the preventative treatment for them is to take anti-depressants, because this balances out your Seratonin. My chronic migraines haven't got any better and I've spent over 10 years trying different pills. Four months before my most recent episode, I switched from the preventative migraine anti-depressant I was on, to a preventative that wasn't an anti-depressant and I never put two and two together.
With this one, I was just numb, sad and putting on a brave face each day. When I was meant to feel excited, I didn't. When I was meant to be feeling really happy, I wasn't. Everything just felt diluted. As time went on, I also kept having the recurring thought, that there was no point in anything and no point in being here. I went to Vegas with friends and the whole time I was away, I barely slept because all I could think about in that time alone, was how sad I felt despite the fun we were having. It was at the point where I couldn't distract myself from it even though I wanted to be around people constantly so I wasn't alone with my thoughts.
When I came home, I confided in my mum because she understands exactly how it feels. As mentioned already, I was so upset this time because I didn't want to feel this way for another year and a half and I'd been taking my pills. However, she was the one who connected that I hadn't been taking any anti-depressants, because when she asked me outright if I had (been taking them) I said "yeah" before remembering that I'd recently changed them. I then looked up the drug itself and realised it wasn't an anti-depressant. So I'd gone cold-turkey accidentally.
I guess the sad point of this article, is that I've come to terms with the fact that depression is something I will always have to deal with and I do need medicine to cope. I'd like to come off them at some point but I will need to do so under the advice of a Doctor because the withdrawal can set you backwards.
The good news however, is that with every episode I have had to get to know myself and know my triggers very thoroughly. For me, these are not exercising (gimme those endorphins baby!), spending too much money (I panic because of my issues with security), and massively; not having enough time to myself. I am an introvert and I need time alone to recharge, it's just the way I'm wired. So that means plenty of time at home; I hate going out two nights in a row for example unless I'm on holiday - yep boring, I know.
I also need to be in a routine. I've been feeling really anxious the last two months, because my flatmate and I were in between places unexpectedly with no confirmed move in date. I was away from my gym, and not feeling in control of my situation. It's was a catalyst for my anxiety levels but thankfully the situation resolved itself and I am back to feeling like myself again,
The biggest positive from going through all of this though is knowing that if it happens again, I will recognise it and I am aware of the importance of talking about it and seeking help. It's not something that will go away on its own or I can handle by myself.
It's so encouraging to see mental health being on the table for discussion and the stigma with it slowly disappearing. I know it's still a bigger issue for men than it is women because of cultural pressures to talk about how they are feeling, but I am really hoping that will change too. Finally, I hope with this article, I've contributed something worthwhile to the conversation that might provide comfort for someone reading this.
Yours,
Unimpressed but not Suppressed x
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