Some days I really wonder what the fuck is going on within
my brain. Everything will seem ok, and then ‘wham’, I am hit with this enormous
urge to cry, vomit, scream, run, hide and cease to exist. And it makes me feel
so horrible when things are going so well in general terms. We have a great
house, our family is together, our kids are growing and the future looks pretty
bright from where I am standing. And yet I feel like crappola. The second my
anxiety levels or adrenalin levels start to rise I descend into a pit of hell
internally.
It is incredibly hard to explain it to others, especially
when I barely understand it myself. I have this excess of intelligence, but it
is no match for the irrationality and incomprehensibility of depression and
anxiety. I have finally made a breakthrough that may well be the doorway to a
new way of dealing with this monster. I finally realised that my depression is
not a symptom of the condition of my life, but a condition of its own, an
illness. None of us ever think that someone who is struck down by cancer is
done so because they have a sad life, or a painful life or a traumatic life. We
acknowledge that it is something that just happens to some people, regardless
of economics, social level, nationality, intelligence, religion etc etc. And
yet there is this thought that depression only strikes those with bad things
going on in their lives. Sure, bad things can be a trigger, like mary jane can
be a trigger for schizophrenia, but that doesn’t mean that everyone who is
afflicted has a trigger.
Depression and anxiety often has a genetic component, some
people are more likely to suffer from it or be predisposed to it. It is a brain
disorder, an imbalance. It can be managed, both with medication and with other
therapies, like many disorders and illnesses. But our acceptance, our
understanding of the disorder is coloured by the idea that it is just an excuse
used by people to be lazy or weird, or that is just a made up thing. People
with mental illness are looked down on, like they are tainted, unclean, the
work of the devil, a danger to society etc etc.
But we are not.
Many of us are productive members of society, contribute
time, intelligence, ideas and abilities to a range of industries and
organisations. We are parents, and children, and partners, carers and loved
ones. We are sportsmen and women, actors, businessmen and women, soldiers, bus
drivers, teachers, artists... in every walk of life there are those who are
afflicted with depression. We aren’t expecting to be moddy-coddled or cosseted,
we don’t want pity... we want acceptance, compassion, empathy. We want to feel
like we can talk about depression, anxiety, bi-polar, PTSD and all the other
variables without judgement, intolerance or fear.
Depression is a hidden disorder because most people just
don’t want to know.
But there are those who care. There are those who want to
help, who put themselves out there to help those of us afflicted. And on the
whole they are undersupported by the government. Their funding is cut by bean
counters with no compassion, no interest in the lives of those affected, who
think we just need to talk to someone for a couple of months and everything
will be just fine. They fall in the ‘you should just put it behind you and move
on’ brigade. Depression is not like a bag that you just chuck in the bin. It’s
more like losing a limb... you are never quite the same again.
Some may be quite upset at the idea of me comparing
depression to losing a limb, might think I am over exaggerating the impact, the
severity of the disorder. I’m not. It affects every aspect of your life, things
you used to do with ease you can no longer do, or they take considerably longer
or more effort. People don’t look at you the same way once they know, you don’t
feel normal anymore. People pity you, or worse, ignore you. And you spend a lot
of time wishing you were normal, that you hadn’t changed.
But you can’t go back.
Even if you get to the point where you are in control of
your depression, have it well managed, some might even say ‘cured’, even then
you are still different. Because you have experienced something that not
everyone experiences, it never leaves you. And for some it is a permanent
illness. They can learn to manage it, but it will never completely go away. You
can live with it, but it always sitting there in the background like a shadow
waiting for an opportunity to raise its ugly head and mess with you some more.
I don’t know one person with depression who actually would
choose to have it. It isn’t a choice. But there is a choice to deal with it or
not. There is a choice to be proactive and seek help. It isn’t an easy step to
take, to admit you need help, especially when you fear that others will
consider you weak, or lazy or stupid. But professional help is the only real
way to get a handle on the disorder, the only real way to move forward. And it
takes work. Lots and lots of work. And you will make mistakes, and you will
feel worse at times. But eventually you get to a point where you realise that
you can move forward even with depression, that it is ok to be mentally ill,
that it doesn’t make you a bad person, or a lazy person, or a stupid person.
Then depression becomes like your conscience, poking you
when you aren’t being kind to yourself, kicking you when you don’t look after
yourself, slamming you when you deny it exists. It keeps you honest. And when
you get to that point, when you embrace this part of yourself you begin to see
that there is hope, there is a future, there is a way to live with depression
that isn’t dark, scary and painful. It doesn’t go away, but it no longer
controls you.
