We now live in a time where many people suffer with depression. A study showed over 300 million people suffer with it. There are many types of depression; some more severe than others, but all need to be taken seriously. Even though so many talk about the struggles with their own mental illness I remember a time when it wasn't heard of much. At least, I never heard anyone else talk about it.
I rarely share my battle with anyone. My husband doesn't know everything and a lot of my close friends don't either. My family, aside from my parents, aren't even aware. I never felt comfortable talking about it and I certainly don't want anyone to think that I'm looking for attention or making a cry for help. That's what everyone assumes when you mention it. So I kept my mouth shut and hid the pain as best as I could. I'm sure people could see it in my facial expression. How could you not? I don't smile much. I say a lot of things negatively. I guess people think it's because I'm a mean person, but I'm not. I'm depressed. I realize it's time to share my story of that.
I was diagnosed with manic depression after a suicide attempt at the age of fourteen. Yes, you heard it right, a suicide attempt. A friend from school found out and reported it to a teacher, who then reported it to the guidance counselor. I remember sitting in the counselor's office unsure of what to say or even what to think as she called my parents to tell them. A threat of suicide is not one to be taken lightly and it needs to be reported and I understood that. It devastated my parents. We had lost my cousin a few years before because of suicide. In that moment of wanting to take my own life I could understand his reasoning for taking his, for everyone's reason for why they kill themselves. Because the mental pain hurts too much.
My depression started long before the age of 14, I'm sure of it. I remember, even as a small child, feeling unhappy and miserable. I remember, being about 8 or 9, playing in my front yard and thinking about how I wish I could get some horrible disease that would take my life. What kid thinks of that? There were plenty of other times when I thought so many stupid things such as that. I quit ballet because I was bored with it, I stopped trying in school because I didn't care, I said and did a lot of things that caused friends to not want to hang out with me anymore. I felt unliked. Unwanted. Even though I had a family that gave me a ton of love and attention. I couldn't help how I felt.
Then I started seventh grade, junior high, and things were starting to look up. I still battled with some emotions but I made new friends and gained a little independence. By independence, I mean, my mom started allowing me to wear makeup and I could go to the mall and movies with my friends without adult supervision. I felt like I was starting to become somebody. Life was picking up. It was great. Then my parents announced that they were selling the house and we were moving. That was the biggest shock of my life. We didn't move down the street. We moved to another state. From New York to Pennsylvania. What a huge difference. I wasn't happy about it and I could feel my world crashing down ... fast.
So, I started eighth grade in a new school with new people. I managed to find a group of friends to hang out with. One girl, in particular, gave me a lot of problems. One minute she was my best friend and another minute she was my worst enemy. This story isn't about her, though, so I'll skip all that. Eighth grade was a bad year and we'll leave it at that. Then came 9th grade. High school. It was a new adventure for everyone in my class and I was no longer looked at as the new girl. Just a few weeks before school started I lost a friend in a fire so that brought on a bad start to the year. Throughout everything I continued to have so much running through my head. I couldn't stop it. Trust me, I wanted to stop it. I hated my life. No matter what good came from it I hated my life. I hated living in Pennsylvania and I craved my old life in New York. I felt out of place. I felt like I didn't belong in PA but when I went back to NY I felt like I didn't belong there either. It was horrible. So, that came my first attempt at suicide - a knife to my wrist. Unsuccessfully, of course.
After my parents found out, and part of the school administration, I was sent to a psychiatrist, who diagnosed me with depression and put me on medication. I was on the medication all through high school and part of college. I also started seeing a psychologist and occasionally the school counselor called me in to check up. It wasn't a fun thing to go through but I did it and I made sure I took my medicine every day. It helped a little.
Being a teenager and dealing with high school drama is bad enough. While everyone was planning their future and deciding what they wanted to do after graduation I was thinking of nothing. My mind was numb and I couldn't see a future for myself. For awhile, I couldn't see a life passed the age of 17. So what I was going to do with the rest of my life wasn't even a thought in my mind. I didn't care. My grades weren't good enough for a prestigious college, or any college for that matter. I also had poor attendance, especially my senior year. I would wake up in the morning and have trouble getting out of bed. My mom allowed me to stay home when I felt that way. I guess she feared something would happen if I did leave. Or maybe she just didn't care to fight me about it. I spent a lot of time laying in bed. Most of my time was spent in my bedroom just day dreaming and focusing my mind on pretending to be in a different life. I wrote a lot too. I loved writing. It was therapeutic, to say the least. Eventually, I found other methods of "therapy" but I won't discuss that here. I tried so many things to find happiness. In the years of struggling with depression I lost a lot of friends, mainly because I cancelled plans a lot. I just didn't feel like leaving the house. It was too hard to.
After graduating high school I went to community college for a semester and flunked out. It was because of my attendance. I just couldn't get myself motivated. Then my dad, angry as he should be, gave me an ultimatum - either find another college to go to or pay rent if I wanted to continue to live under his roof. I knew my life was off track and I was going nowhere and I wanted to change. So badly, I wanted to change. That's when I started business school and met some new friends. They were devoted Christians who enjoyed attending church and Christian-related functions. I joined in and quickly decided to give my life to Christ. In those two years of business school I felt really good. My depression was barely there anymore. It was great. I was able to enjoy life and time with friends. It felt like everything was falling into place. At that point I wasn't even on anti-depressants anymore and I stopped seeking therapy. I didn't need it.
Unfortunately, that feeling of peace and happiness didn't last. After graduating from college I entered the "real world" as a lot of teachers once called it. I went from one office job to another because I couldn't seem to find a steady one that worked out. In that time things were starting to get serious between me and one of my best friends in business school. He's the one I married. Even now, in a wonderful marriage with a man who takes such good care of me and two amazing kids and many other things to be grateful for - I still find myself depressed at times. It's definitely not what it used to be when I was a teenager but it's still there. I'm sure it will always be there. A few years ago I attended a few counseling sessions with a psychologist and my medical doctor prescribed anti-depressants again. This was after I started getting anxiety, and that's a topic of discussion for another time. I'm not on the medicine anymore and I stopped seeking therapy because of cost.
I am depressed. I will probably always be depressed. I'm sure there are a lot of things about my battle with depression that I have left out. The last therapist I saw said that she can't find a reason for why I'm depressed but it's probably just a chemical imbalance in the brain and something I will always have to deal with forever. It's not an easy thing to fathom. There are days when I can easily hide the pain and then there are days when my husband is aware of my struggle but he can't understand it. Throughout life I've heard many people say, "snap out of it." "you can get over it." "just think of all the good things you have." etc. Trust me, if it were that easy I'm sure depression would be something unheard of. No one wants to suffer. It's not a choice we make and it's certainly not something we can so easily snap out of. But there is treatment and there is help.
I have found that by just praying or reading Scripture I can get a better grasp on things. Being a believer doesn't take it away but it helps give me hope. I also found that exercise and a healthy diet helps too. I would love to share those things with you, in time, on this blog. If I can help someone else who suffers with depression I am willing to do that. Also, if you stumble upon my page and you are suffering I want you to know that you are not alone. You are also worth so much in this world and even though it hurts and it's tiring and the struggle is real ... you deserve happiness and peace and you deserve the help. I want to help. All you have to do is reach out.
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