TRIGGER WARNING: Depression, suicide and rape
This may be hard for my loved ones to read, I have never been this open about my depression, and my experiences.
Whether you know me or not, this is very heavy content, please be cautious when reading this.
Few things in life are constant, this is true, but for me I have had one constant companion almost as far back as I can remember. The first time I remember him embracing me was when I was about 12. Until my late 20s he visited me regularly, mostly at night when I was alone, sometimes for days or weeks at a time. He spent birthdays, holidays, school days, and all the in between days with me, to this day he still pops by from time to time. I have always dreaded his visits, and wished him away. His name is Depression.
What does it feel like to have Depression? I will try to find the words to express the true depth of darkness, that the mind can be dragged to.
In my early teens I would sit for hours listening to music, writing in my diary. My Mom and everyone else probably just thought it was regular old ‘’teen angst’’. Sometimes I would lie on the floor, or in the bath and the tears would flow silently down my face, no sobbing or heavy breathing, just a steady stream of misery flowing and flowing, until there were no tears left. At night I would lie awake, unable to turn off the light, I was so afraid of being alone in my own mind. You see, depression is a liar, a poisonous voice inside your head, it whispers to you in the silence, ‘’no one likes you’’, ’’you are nothing’’, ’’no one loves you’’, ‘’everyone would be better off if you were dead’’. I tried hard to silence it with music, books, TV, writing, and anything else I could. Depression is not wanting to be around anyone, not being able to talk to anyone, but being petrified of being alone. It is constantly seeking company that you don’t want, and then feeling rejected when you are alone, taking it as proof that you are indeed unlovable.
In my late teens and into my late 20s, I self medicated. I tried to keep the voices quiet with alcohol, parties and boyfriends. I was the loudest, drunkest one in the room, I was always the last to go home. If I had to be alone in silence, I would not be sober for it. I wrote off 2 cars while drinking and driving. I could have died, or killed someone else. I am deeply grateful that I didn’t ruin my life in those years. I felt everything and nothin, Pain o the very core of my being, flooding my mind, body and soul, but I felt empty and numb at the same time. I craved love and connection, but I was too toxic to form meaningful relationships. I had an urgent need to please people around me, I would do anything to feel valued and needed, mostly this just attracts abusers. I was very fortunate though, during this time I met some great people, some tried to help, some have stood by me until today. I was always the life of the party, I wonder how many of those around me figured something was deeply wrong inside me. I did experiment with drugs during this time as well, thankfully it didn’t stick. I found that instead of the numb blackness of alcohol, drugs left me too aware and too awake. I wanted to pass out. At 23 after a break up, I took an overdose of pills, various ones I found around my Mom’s house. I started to lose consciousness and I panicked, I didn’t want to die, I just wanted the pain to end. I wanted to be free, to be like other people. Why was I so broken? Why did I seem to be the only one who felt this way? What was wrong with me? I texted my Mom, I was taken to hospital. I was unconscious for 2 or 3 days and then I recovered. I went home and carried on as before.
I had seen a psychiatrist when I was 16, and he had immediately diagnosed me with major depression, I didn’t believe him, I wouldn’t take the medication. I never went back. I do not believe he was necessarily at fault, but he was very clinical about it and he failed to reach me. I didn’t really want to be there, I didn’t want to talk to him, I think my Mom took me to him because she thought I was on drugs. I wasn’t.
At 24 I was partying, I got black out drunk, I has some weed on top of a huge amount of alcohol over about 12 hours. I passed out on the front lawn, completely out cold. I woke up in a bed in the house, my pants and underwear half on, uncomfortable and awkward. A guy sleeping next to me. I knew him, I think he always gave me an uncomfortable feeling, but I might just think that now in retrospect. My body felt raw and painful. It took me years to use the word rape. I never told anyone, the first person I told was my now husband, years later. I know in my head it is not my fault, I very loudly campaign against victim blaming, yet I still feel ashamed. It is still painful to write about and very few people know about it. It’s been 10 years.
I had things I wanted to do. I have actually always had big goals and dreams, but motivation never lasted long, I would start things and never finish them. I just couldn’t not do the things I knew I needed to do. The endless cycle of failure made me feel even worse about myself, and confirmed everything that my depression whispered to me. At times I couldn’t get out of bed, other times I couldn’t sleep more than an hour or two on the couch, because I could not face going to bed. The worst moment for me was always that moment when you turn out the lights, when you are awake, lying in the dark, closing your eyes and trying to fall sleep. I feared that moment more than anything. I still to this day feel a little anxiety around it, luckily now there are no more whispers, and I sleep next to a wonderful human. Imagine turning out the lights and lying down in your bed, trying to close your eyes but your eyelids twitch because your nerves are lit up by your anxiety. You are in fight or flight because you already fear this moment so much, and then the voice starts to talk to you, playing on your worst fears and deepest insecurities, ‘’you are fat and ugly’’, ‘’you are a burden to everyone you love. They just feel sorry for you, they don’t love you. They wish you were dead’’, ‘’you are stupid, you will never be successful’’, and on and on and on, easily until 2 or 3 in the morning. I have often taken medications that I did not need to help me sleep, such as pain medication, allergy medication or cough mixture. I would sometimes look at my left wrist, touch it and imagine the blood pouring out of it onto the floor. I would think ’’I better do it in the bathtub because I don’t want anyone to have to clean it up. It would ruin the bed completely’’, I would wonder how much it would hurt. In the darkest of moments,, you truly cannot imagine that it will ever get better, you cannot believe that you will ever have anything other than endless pain. I gained a lot of weight in my early 20s, weight I have never lost. I continue to struggle with emotional eating, food became a comfort for me then, and it still is. There were other suicide attempts during this time, none as serious though. It wasn‘t strange for me to sleep for days or be a bit out of it, so no one really noticed. I don’t think anyone around me had heard of depression or mental illness, let alone knew what to look out for.
At 27, I had a breakdown. My first marriage had ended a little while before. I couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t want to eat, or move or talk. I was a zombie. My body was there but my mind was gone, it couldn’t take it any longer and it just shut down. This is called depersonalisation, and I had had small bouts of it before, basically the more advanced parts of the brain go into hibernation to protect themselves, and your primitive lizard brain takes over. You can only just about survive, you stop having actual thoughts. You feel like you are watching the world around you on TV, like you aren’t really there, just an observer. You have no emotion, but sometimes I would cry, the silent flowing tears. I have felt at times that those tears were me, leaking out of my body, flowing away. After a prolonged period of me being in this state, I could not say how long, maybe 10 days, maybe 2 weeks? Around that I think. My Mom took me to a Psychiatrist. He was a very kind man, he got it, for the first time in my life, someone got it. He told me what I felt in words I couldn’t find for myself. He was deeply empathetic and he saw how much pain I was in, and for how long. After struggling for over 15 years, every single day, with this demon that I couldn’t hope to defeat, finally my journey to recovery began. My constant companion had a name. I was sick, I wasn’t broken. I began treatment immediately, medication in the form of SSRIs, and therapy. The diagnosis changed my life completely, once I knew what it was, I could learn how to fight
At 32, after years of being pretty healthy,meeting my husband and having my daughter, I had a 2nd breakdown. I had been through a year of lockdown and uncertainty. I am a South African, I live in the UK. Covid hit us in the very middle of our immigration. We ended up stuck in South Africa, with no house, or furniture or anything, unable to come back to the UK for a year. My daughter was around 18 months when it happened. It was highly stressful and when we eventually got back to the UK after a highly traumatic trip via Munich, I fell apart. My husband and my Mom were very supportive, and really carried me through it. I was bed ridden for about 2 weeks. I had no energy at all, walking to the bathroom was exhausting. I was sleeping for 18 hours a day. I began taking SSRIs again, I had weaned off them during my pregnancy, and I found a really great therapist that I really connected with. I saw her every week for a year, she taught me how to set boundaries an protect my peace. She is my guest on Episode 2 of Kindness is not Weakness.
I am 34, my journey is not over. I have major depression, a lifelong condition. There are other more temporary forms of depression, such as the appropriately named SAD (seasonal affective disorder), postpartum depression, bereavement, etc. These are still depression and most likely feel similar, but they are treatable and the sufferer tends to recover completely after a time. Major depressive disorder however requires lifelong management. I see it like asthma or diabetes, I will always have it, it’s not going away, but I can take medication, avoid triggers and live a lifestyle conducive to staying healthy.
For 7 years now I have worked on myself, I have discovered what helps me and what doesn’t, I have learned to love myself. I am a great Mom, to an awesome child, and have a very happy healthy marriage. I have completed short courses in nutrition, counselling and other things. I start the first module of my psychology degree in October. Sometimes the voice reappears but I know what to do when it does, I know how to help myself and to reach out for help if I need it. I recently stopped going to regular therapy as I am healthy enough to cope day to day now.. I still take an SSRI and have no plans to stop taking it. I can enjoy silence now, I don’t fear it at all, in fact I seek it out (I have a nearly 4 year old). I meditate often, and I so enjoy the beautiful feeling of being able to be alone with my thoughts. I am proud of who I am and what I can do, because of what I have been through I am incredibly resilient. I care deeply for others, and I do not tolerate a bully. I am motivated, passionate, smart and kind. I want to help others that have suffered as I have, from depression or anything else. This is my passion project. I am grateful to be alive.
If you or anyone you know is suffering from any form of depression, please reach out for help. It really does get better.
Samaritans - Whatever you're going through, call us free any time, from any phone, on 116 123 (UK)
Comments