I feel like I have a million things to write about, but
nothing at all. I guess that’s a perfect analogy of my life right now. I’m deep
into a soul sucking, energy zapping, mental marathon of a depression.
Depression is an extremely personal disease. Though I’m
usually comfortable writing about most of my afflictions and issues, depression
is one I've kept closely guarded the past 10 years or so. That is until the
most recent bout, when I finally asked for help and the results that came
about.
I've been medically treated for depression for about 10
years. I started seeing a therapist, as it was strongly suggested when I was
diagnosed with MS. Though I've had my ups and downs, for the most part I've
been able to lead a well-rounded emotional life. The last few months though, it’s
like all the issues I've been trying to maintain came boiling to the surface
and erupted.
I didn't wake up in this hole of a depression. It was a culmination
of sad events that ignited it. I had to put my dog to sleep; my boyfriend –
suffering from his own depression – broke up with me and moved out. It was
then, slowly, oh so slowly depression entwined himself into my everyday life,
making even the simplest tasks exhausting.
After a couple months, I was no longer sleeping through the
night. The stress and lack of sleep caused my eczema to flare even more than
normal. At my worst I was covered on over 75% of my body. I couldn't stop
itching. My skin was so red it looked like I had sunburn. I was constantly cold
from radiating so much heat; I was embarrassed about how it looked. I had been
living from steroid treatment to steroid treatment for my skin and I guess my
mind and body finally had enough.
My lowest of low days was a Saturday. I got up at 10am,
drank a cup of tea, and had an uncontrollable crying spell that put me back
into bed until 5pm. I got up and ate some toast, remembered why I had been
crying before and went back to bed until 9 the next morning. I wandered around the
rest of the weekend like a zombie. My thoughts were either racing too much to think
straight, or I couldn’t form a coherent thought. I dreaded getting up to go to
work. I was exhausted from lack of sleep, ashamed of my skin and stressed out
that I was not pulling my share of the load in the office.
I resented everyone I talked to who was in a good mood, I
withdrew from social engagements, I stopped posting on social media. I felt
like I was covered in tar, moving slowly, constantly wiping it out of my face,
trying to see what was coming. I couldn't
keep up anymore.
I went into work on a Monday and told my bosses what was
going on. I have only been at this job for 6 months; I was terrified of the reaction
I would get. I shouldn't have been surprised at the fact that they were wonderful.
They offered to give me time off so I could sort out everything without the
added stress of work. They gave me the flexibility to work from home and come
into the office when I felt like it. It was the nicest thing anyone has ever
done for me – telling me to put my health first.
So I went home that day, cried more and tried to put
together a plan of what to do. I saw my
therapist who told me that this was the worst depression she has seen me in and
suggested an intensive day therapy program. I went to my general practitioner
who told me she was no longer comfortable managing my depression and anxiety
meds and told me I needed to see a psychiatrist. I went to my dermatologist
about my skin that referred me to a specialist at the U. They gave me new meds
to try (again) and referred me to an allergist. My skin started to clear up and
I started the search for a psychiatrist. I called several places who either
aren't accepting new patients, don’t take my insurance, or have a month long
wait list. I’m banging my head against a wall! I finally decide to put my
health first, to do something to manage this state I’m in and I cannot get
help!
I’m trying to be patient, but I feel awful. I’m antisocial;
I don’t want to be in public. I have an impossible time trying to find the positive
in things. It’s like a big dark cloud is covering this deep pit where I’m stuck
sitting. It’s terribly lonely because no one knows what to say to someone who
is depressed and anxious. It’s not like a cold – you don’t just “get better”.
You don’t wake up one day saying “man! I’m so glad this depression is over!”
It’s a waiting game, it’s a dangerous one. I get why people
end their lives due to depression. The feeling of hopelessness is a horrible
one. Feeling like no one understands what you’re going through; feeling like no
one cares, feeling like a fool for not being able to “snap” out of it… I suffer
from severe asthma, severe eczema, allergies, multiple sclerosis, anxiety and
depression and I can tell you that out of all of these things, depression is
the worst. It’s not visible to the naked eye, it’s hard to explain, and there
are no “chicken soup” remedies to help you feel better.
It’s just keeping putting one foot in front of the other. It’s
getting out of bed each day even if it is 2pm. It’s giving yourself a break if
that’s the only thing you accomplished that day. It’s holding onto the hope
that a doctor appointment is coming soon. It’s remembering that this is a
chemical imbalance in my brain – not something I caused and that with the right
medications I’ll feel able to feel happy again.
At the end that’s all I really want. I don’t want to be a
millionaire or have hundreds of friends. I don’t want to be a size 4 or conquer
the world, I just want to wake up and feel joy again. I want to go to bed excited
to start the next day. I want to feel utter contentment for the life I have
built for myself. Maybe, just maybe – tomorrow will be the start of that day.
IF YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW IS SUFFERING FROM DEPRESSION AND NEEDS HELP, PLEASE DO NOT HESITATE TO REACH OUT: 1-800-273-8255
