*Warning: This is a very personal and true account of my battle with depression. I wanted to share because I know that other people battle this too and I have learned that it is something we shouldn't be afraid of. Not talking about it only makes it worse. I hope you benefit from my candid and heartfelt story.*
Have you ever felt so crazy that you don't even want to be inside your own head anymore?
It's almost like you're seeing yourself clearly for the first time. You come up with all these reasons why the people in your life would be better without you and all these characteristics about yourself that you hate. In a second you suddenly become this despicable person. The only thing you can do is cry and lie in bed hoping tomorrow never comes.
I'm not alone, I know there are plenty of people who feel like this. The only way I have been able to conquer my depression and mood swings was through a fairly heavy dosage of antidepressants. With that arises the question, should I need medication to feel happy? Am I simply unhappy and pessimistic because that's who I am?
No. I feel like there is more to me than tears, pain, doubt, and self-hatred. I want a happy, fruitful life. And the only way I have even gotten close is by taking my happy pills. I'm not ashamed of it and I know I am far better with them than without them.
I've been dealing with the depression and anger issues for quite some time, almost as long as I can remember. I believe I might have been somewhat "normal" until about age ten or so. For the most part I was a pretty amiable child who loved to make people laugh but as I got older, I became withdrawn, moody, and confrontational. My poor mother was often on the receiving end of my emotional roller coasters. We would stand at opposite ends of the house screaming at each other over the most ridiculous things.
Some of our problems were normal teenager issues: boys, friends, getting to go somewhere, but then there were the more unusual fights over watching television or dinner or how my hair looked that day. My mood could switch from happy to annoyed to angry to distraught in five seconds flat.
I'm sure most of you are thinking "bipolar much?" But when I was younger, that was something other people had, not me. And, like any good parent, my parents weren't willing to rush me to the doctor and put me on some meds for something they thought I would probably grow out of.
Thinking back on it now, I know I should have talked more to my parents about how I was feeling at the time, but there aren't many teenagers who are willing to have that conversation. So I battled inwardly with my hatred of myself, hating the way I acted and hating how I treated my mom and hating how much I cried, but I seemed to never be able to stop doing those things I hated so much.
Several years later, I was at the doctor to get my antidepressant prescription. I had finally had enough with my crazy moods. My mother was in the room with me and before the doctor asked me the necessary questions to see if I needed the medicine, she asked if I wanted my mom to leave the room. I thought about it for a second and realized the best way to explain to my mom the reason why I needed this medicine was to let her hear my answers to the doctor's questions. "No, she can stay."
"Alright, let's get started then. How long have you been experiencing these feelings of depression?"
"On and off since I was about eleven or twelve. Sometimes are worse than others. And I have some pretty bad mood swings."
She made a note and nodded. "Okay, have you ever had suicidal thoughts?"
Boom. The big question. I looked at my mom and could see the tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at me.
I had to be honest. "Uh, yeah."
Mom burst into tears. I wanted to cry. The doctor gazed at my mom sympathetically, "I know that's hard for a mother to hear."
Mom, choking back tears, responded, "How did I not know that about my own kid?"
Well I knew the answer to that one. "I didn't want you to know."
I remember feeling like no one would understand what I was going through. No one had ever felt as horrible as I did and I would repeat over and over that my family and friends would be "better off if I was dead." I am very happy I was never brave enough to actually attempt anything. Well, I don't think I would call that bravery but I do know that actually killing myself scared the shit out of me, even though I did think it would be better if I did.
After being on my medication for a few months, I could tell that it was helping me. I dealt with stressful situations in a calmer manner, my mood swings were few and far between, and my relationship with my mom was the best it had ever been. I'm not ashamed that I need my medication to have a better life. I enjoy my life now more than I ever did and I am thankful for the people around me that supported me when I was moody and hard to be around.
I only hope that others read this and realize that they should talk about their feelings to someone. Talking about it will help you. I can't help but think if I had gotten help sooner maybe I would have saved myself quite a few years of suffering.
So take a deep breath, do what makes you happy, and live.
