My Story of Depression

My story of depression began seven years ago upon discovery that my husband had a massive breakdown. I thought it had come from nowhere but in reality I guess I should have seen it coming.

I hadn’t really understood what anxiety or depression were before and didn’t see the signs that he had been suffering, and before too long I was spiralling down the very same road.

I started to retreat into myself, felt like I was walking around in a daze within a fog. I stopped eating properly and sleep seemed pretty non existent. I was exhausted yet couldn’t sleep. I just wanted to sleep, stay in bed and sleep. That was all I wanted. Shut out anyone and everything on the outside.

One thing that has hit me was the pure loneliness. Friends and family drifted away and I felt like I was watching from the outside. Some days the quiet was deafening, unbearably so. I watched friends go to parties, socialise, be happy, and that made it worse. Friends and family drop away as they don’t know what to say or do. They have their own lives and in reality don’t want to be consumed by what you are going through.

You struggle financially, emotionally, and physically. People make excuses not to see or help you. You feel like your drowning, screaming for someone to save you.

No one came; I felt alone.

But looking back, how would they have known? I never told anyone the struggle I was facing and how I needed help. I guess they thought I would ask if I needed anything. But how do you say “I need help?” A couple of times I asked for help from family, but it wasn’t forthcoming. Usually, the answer would be “you’ll get through it?” But how, how do you get through it? I just wanted someone to say, “what do you need?” or “how can I help?” just to lift me up, save me from drowning.

People don’t always understand mental health issues and certainly don’t understand the impact it has on your life unless they have been directly affected. I certainly didn’t.

Words I frequently heard:

You’ll get over it, it can’t be that bad, or get a grip.

No, I can’t get over it; yes, it can be that bad; and how on earth do I get a grip?

Finances became a struggle to cope with, debt mounted, but still I didn’t say a word. How could I?

My life turned on its axis that day. One day I seemed carefree and the next I was spiralling into the darkness, drowning.

Somehow, amidst the drowning, I began kicking, swimming to save myself. I may now only be bobbing above the surface, and the same struggle exists but I’m learning to paddle.

I have learnt to breathe, take myself to my happy place. My happy places change daily — sometimes a beach, sometimes a walk in a forest — but I always find a place I can take myself to. I just go and breathe. It helps.

I saw a counsellor and got help, but it was hard. Friends and family never really returned and I have learnt to deal with the depression and live with it.

Living with depression is hard, it’s heartbreakingly hard, but trust me: if I can do it, anyone can.

I may feel alone, but I am learning to live with the depression rather than letting it consume me. I still struggle daily but do have better days. I still find it hard to say, “I need help,” but I doing better.

Just breathe. x