Tough Pill to Swallow

We all know the mental health services in the UK aren’t the best. The stigma surrounding it and its treatment still aren’t improving much, either.

Growing up, I never remember being happy, and I learned at 19 that this was because I’ve had depression from being a little girl. My doctors think it’s related to growing up in an abusive and unstable household, but are also using me as a part of a study to see if mental health issues could be genetic.

Things got a lot worse when I turned 13. Back then, it felt like my whole life was falling down around me. My parents split up and I found out a lot of things that kids should never know: cheating, drugs, abuse, and a number of other things. I fell out with a lot of close friends, for reasons I still don’t understand to this day. My mum fell ill and had a close call with cancer. My dog also had a scrape with cancer. I lost a lot of family members and friends too. That’s when I started self harming. It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s also something I don’t regret. At the time I felt like I head no control over anything in my life, and the feeling that it caused was something i had complete control over. It started when I wanted. It was intense as I wanted. It stopped when I wanted. Let me get one thing straight, I’m not suggesting people do this and I don’t advocate for it in anyway, as now I know there are better ways to cope.

A few months into Year ten, I tried to commit suicide. I don’t remember much about what happened that night, just that my mum spent days with me in the hospital and it was snowing a lot outside. After this, I was put forward to CAMHS. I spoke to them twice, with two different counsellors. The first was fantastic and helped even through one conversation, the second wasn’t so much. She was quite happy to call me an attention seeker and a home wrecker. No mind if that’s true or not, personally I don’t think it is, but even so you don’t say that to a 14-year-old who’s clearly feeling very low.

Fast forward to being 18 and life is getting pretty bad again; family splits, friends, relationships. I went back to how I was when I was younger. I became a recluse in my own house, but I didn’t have the support of my family this time as I’d moved out. After once again trying to hurt myself, I decided to speak to my doctor after some persuasion from my fiancé.

Best. Decision. Ever.

I’ve always been afraid of taking meds, thinking it felt like admitting something was wrong, but there wasn’t much left to try. I now take 20MG of Citalopram once a day. The side effects have been pretty bad sometimes: I couldn’t sleep for four days straight no matter what I tried, I had stronger mood swings, and I felt sick most of the time. I also practically lived with a headache 24/7. After a week, those all died down and I’m now a month into my meds as well as weekly counseling. I’ve never felt better than this. Being able to offload to someone helps so much. My meds have genuinely helped everything get so much better.

All I can say to anyone who’s been thinking about asking their doctor about this should. You never know if it will help till you try. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve learnt this for myself. If it turns out it helps, then embrace the fact you’ve been looking after yourself. If it turns out it doesn’t, then feel good in the fact that you tried something to help. My biggest piece of advice is: give it time. It won’t work straight away and will take a couple of weeks so when trying it, give it a few months and try keeping a diary of how you're feeling so you can see any changes. It’s also important you tell your doctor about any side effects you experience.