Depression
- such a bad word. Ugly. Almost… dirty. So many people suffer in silence
because of the “shame” of it.
I
was silent because I didn’t want pity. I was too proud.
“It
is just a phase.”
“I
am just moody.”
“Once
this day ends it will get better.”
“It
is normal to feel like this at this age.”
“When
I loose weight I will feel better.”
“When
I buy that jacket I will feel better.”
My
silence was deafening to my ears only. But after years of white noise my
screams started to be heard by others, even when I was trying my hardest to
stay hush.
It
feels like chasing your own tail everyday. You feel exhausted, sick and out of
breathe. Your thoughts are racing constantly but mind is numb. Your thoughts
are a whirlwind.
Cloudy,
grey, the world is out to get you.
On
some level you know that you are acting “silly” or “obnoxious”, but your
doubts, fears and anxiety get the better of you. It’s a force you can’t reckon
with. There is no beating it. It always wins. It has you right where it wants
you. And you try to come out on top – you go out, stay in, smoke, drink, eat,
don’t eat, whatever – but it always wins. Always.
And
then came my highs. Feeling so happy that you could fly. My highs were another
force you couldn’t stop. They took control of me. Complete control. I didn’t
need to sleep, I didn’t need to eat, I didn’t need anybody – my energy was
enough.
Moving
fast, talking fast, stuttering, knocking things over, making rash decisions….
People just couldn’t understand me and I could not connect with them. I was on
my own level, way beyond everyone else. One night I went clubbing with friends
and I was the designated driver, so of course I did not drink any alcohol. I
was partying until 6am! The bouncers thought I was on drugs! Talking fast,
slurring, moving swiftly…too swiftly. My heart was pounding in my ears all
night. That was my “natural high.”
I
slept 2 hours and went out all day the next day. On Monday I came crashing
down. Way down. I couldn’t move. Taking
steps was a chore and talking was a task. My entire existence was in slow-mo. I
was telling myself I was really tired and my body was recovering, but it felt
deeper.
And
then came my massive panic attack. I was driving and suddenly I couldn’t breathe.
I was trying to inhale, but my breath was being blocked. The car was caving in
on me and my head was spinning. I could feel my heart pounding against my
chest, I could hear it in my ears.
“This
is it. This is how I am going to die.”
I
thought I was having a heart attack. I turned into a street without looking and
almost hit another driver. That’s when I pulled over.
“Go
to the doctors you have just had a panic attack.” I rang my friend Deb, but
when I tried to talk to her all I could do was wale loudly. My body was jerking,
tears were streaming down my face and there was nothing I could do to stop. I managed
to dispel a few words. She understood.
I
sat in the car and stared out the window. I don’t even think I blinked. Suddenly,
I snapped out of it and looked at the time. 2 hours had past.
“Depression
and bipolar.” That was my diagnosis. I was petrified. I wanted to vomit upon
hearing it. I did not want to be classified as insane. Mentally ill. Did I have
to tick special boxes when filling out forms and applications?
Bipolar?
Me?
I
never even considered that. I just thought I was an “extreme” person. I guess I
was more extreme than I bargained for.
That
night I cried and cried and cried. I crept into my mum’s bedroom while she was
asleep and cried in her arms. I couldn’t stop, and all I was saying was “What
am I going to do I don’t want to be like this anymore.”
For
an entire week after my panic attack my body ached and my eyes were swollen
from crying. Everyday I felt exhausted, like I had a run a marathon. My head
pounded, I was thirsty all the time and tears would flow down my cheeks at any
given time.
I
was prescribed anti-depression tablets, which is also used to treat bipolar
disorder. I was petrified of medication. I couldn’t even bring myself to have a
Panadol when I had a headache. “Let the body heal itself” was what I always
said to myself, but this was no cold or headache. I needed to do something
because my entire life was spiraling out of control.
A
week after taking the medication I started feeling a lot better. You see, I had
been suffering anxiety for a few years now and chose to see a therapist rather
than take medication. I wanted to get to the “root” of the problem rather than
conceal it. But these “demonic diseases” get you. They make you see things not
as they truly are and you blunder drastically deeper into the disease. So everyday
I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, and a heavy feeling in my chest.
Inhaling at times was difficult.
“This
is what normal people must feel like,” I remember telling mum on the phone. I felt
free and unchained. I felt clear headed and light. I just felt…grounded.
The
tablets have been a Godsend to me. Three months later I have increased my dose
and I feel wonderful. No more attacks or “dark days.” No more mood swings, I am
balanced.
From
the outside I have always looked like a lead a charmed life. People would look
at me and thought I had it all! I had travelled the globe, had a great job, two
university degrees, a big family, friends, a social life and so much more.
But
inside I was screaming. And my screams were getting louder. My panic attack was
my boiling point, just like a pot that screeches until it overflows.
It
was a blessing in disguise. My attack truly was the best thing that happened to
me. Without it I wouldn’t have been prescribed medication, which has allowed me
to feel better. I am able to make better decisions and see situations much
clearer and don’t hate being me anymore. It feels wonderful!
The
timing was perfect too. My work transferred me interstate to Melbourne about a
month after my attack. I was excited about this move – new surrounds, new
people and fresh perspective. The greatest part about it all was that I can do
it all with a clear mind, and not be succumbed to the agony of my depression.
I
moved 7 weeks ago and it has been the best time of my life. I am working,
living with a flat-mate, making new friends and spending a lot of time alone,
and it is my clearer thoughts that have allowed me the freedom to do all that.
