I’ve blogged before about my depression and how I wouldn’t let it beat me. I’ve had some lovely comments from people who have read that post.
But I think it’s time I owned up.
It beat me. Well, that’s what it feels like anyway.
The past year I have been teetering on the edge of despair. Slowly being sucked in to the deep dark pit destroying everything as I go.
The past few months I have been getting worse. Feelings of nothingness, worthlessness consuming my thoughts every day. Believing the world would be a better place without me in it.
I have threatened suicide. I plan how I would do it. What would be the quickest, most effective way. I doubt I could act on it. I’m not that brave, or cowardly, whichever way you want to look at it.
Depression does that. Makes you feel like life isn’t worth it.
Then the breakdown happened.
I truly felt that no one cared about me. Why should they? I’m not a nice person. Often being a bit of a hermit or a loner. I get angry easily.
I spent days crying. Torn. I so desperately wanted to die. To end it all and put myself out of this misery and pain.
I was told to see my GP. That things had got really bad that I needed help.
I was scared.
What if they section me? What if they get Social Services involved who decide to take the kids away?
But I went. I knew I had to. That it was the right thing to do.
I was honest with my GP. She’s seen me go through so much with depression and complicated pregnancies.
I told her everything. How I wanted to die. How my life wasn’t worth living. She listened.
She told me it wasn’t my fault I was feeling this way. That the receptors in my brain aren’t doing their job properly. She explained that tablets would be needed to help.
I was a bit reluctant. I’ve been there before. I know the stigma attached to them. I didn’t want that. Then my GP said something that made sense.
She explained that if I had a thyroid problem and she prescribed tablets for that, I wouldn’t batter an eyelid. But because it’s mental health, people get scared.
It’s true, you do get scared. Scared of what people will say if they find out. People thinking you’re a ‘nut job’ on ‘happy pills’.
I guess that’s why I’m telling you this. That depression needn’t be something to be ashamed of or embarrassed about.
I am back on anti-depressants, and I’ve started going to the gym. I am slowly feeling better about myself and not having such low moods. I’ve also not considered taking my own life since I started back on them.
It’s only been a week and they take 6-8 weeks to kick in fully, but I know they’re working.
Who knows how long I need them for, and I’ll probably be on and off them for the rest of my life. But that’s ok, as long as they clear the fog and make everything better …. And life worth living again.