I’ve started this story so many times; every time I start, I write a different story.  I have at least 4 versions that each go in a different direction of Depression in my life. How I got here, the panic attacks, the breakdown, the triggers. As I reread them, over 20 pages, trying to find the right words to put up, none of them seem to fit what I want to say.
So many people are speaking out on their battles with mental illness. A few celebrities spoke out and their words and message gave me strength when I needed it. I’m drawn to the “battle with mental illness” articles. I scan them to see how closely our conditions and lives relate and many I feel like I could have written. I also read the “first hand analysis and accounts” of those who didn’t survive, Anthony Bourdain, Kate Spade, Chester Bennington as examples, and I could have written those.
I’m Kiera, a female adult and I’ve suffered from Depression since 2015. I had an entire piece written about how I found myself in the Darkness, and at the beginning, I bought into the stigma and wanted to explain how I got there. Now, I don’t find that interesting, except if it helps someone to recognize themselves crashing and get help early. A friend of mine saw me and recognized herself in me and was relentless on me to get help. I did, but at first only through a therapist.  Don’t get me wrong, good therapists are amazing and the tools they provide can be indispensable and are well documented through “my” tips.  But for me it wasn’t enough; I had already experienced several panic attacks and had recognized that I was in Depression at least 5 months before that. I was even on a mild anti-depressant that was diagnosed for a different purpose. But I know myself well and I see myself as smart and strong – I’ve been through the wringer in many ways in my life and have always been a fighter. I can say objectively that I understand my body and its glitches and knew I could fight my way out of Depression without having that pre-existing condition added to my medical chart. I knew nothing Jon Snow (disregard if you don’t know Game of Thrones).
My breakdown came out of nowhere. Well, actually it was a long and easily spotted road – but I was surprised. I can’t begin to describe what it was like. To try to describe it would be like trying to explain the taste and texture of a mango to someone who has never known food. J K Rowling based her Dementors off of her experience with Depression. Her description is better than anything I could do. In the Darkness – and you notice I capitalize the “D” in these words – because they are tangible real, scary, and worth the extra font to capitalize. In the Darkness, there is no hope, there is no joy, happiness, no relationships that matter more than it, no light at the end of the tunnel, no interest in activities, events, opportunities; there is only the inevitable Darkness, loneliness and isolation. There are no words of comfort. And worse, very few people can understand and many make assumptions about your weakness, family history, and inability to “cheer up” “snap out of it” and “get over it”.  I’m incredibly fortunate in that I have medical insurance. Many, many people who suffer do not. But even with medical insurance, if you ever pay attention, mental illness claims are not part of your standard health insurance. They’re a different category with “substance abuse”. There is some logic in that, many people who suffer from mental illness also self-medicate which can easily lead to addiction. Both of these are afflictions society has stigmatized such that many who need help, feel too ashamed, too weak to seek it.
Society needs to seriously “Get Over” That! I was in a conversation with someone at work recently who said she used to “not believe in Depression”. After I mentally picked my jaw up off of the floor, I asked where she stood on the moon landing and climate change. But she went on, she didn’t used to believe it until she got postpartum Depression. I’m still at a loss. She’s very open about it – which is easy because she’s not having more children so she doesn’t have to worry about repercussions. I wish all of us who suffer could all be so open in all aspects of our lives without fear of discrimination, judgment and repercussions. I like that she speaks openly and may change somebody’s mind, but I’m at a loss for words that without having gone through it herself, she “didn’t believe in it”.
I wish for understanding, compassion and education but I would not wish this on anyone. As noted, I’m incredibly lucky to have insurance that subsidizes my treatment. 20 days after my breakdown (the earliest I could get in), I saw a psychiatrist; and for the record that was early 2016. Anxiety is the companion to Depression. It’s not a big part of mine generally, but for months after my breakdown, going out for anything, errands, appts was an immense undertaking. Although I was still working full time in a demanding career. I don’t know how. My psychiatrist, whom we’ll call Dr Birk, saw me for 90 minutes on the first appt and then 2 days later for another 90 minutes. He increased my anti-depressant and added a couple other meds to my cocktail. I mention that second appointment because I understand now that psychiatrists are not the “lie on the couch and tell me your problems” doctors. That’s therapy, psychiatry is very much about the physiological impact of Depression and treating it medically. And these drugs are nothing to be trifled with, so after putting me on them, coming back quickly to assess status and impact is incredibly important. Generally it takes anti-depressants the longest 10-12 weeks of your life to actually start treating the Depression. Different meds work in different ways depending on the specific condition but they’re all trying to treat brain chemistry. If you put someone who is bipolar on Prozac, it’ll send their brain chemistry into a very bad spin. So doctors have to know what they’re doing. I’ve heard several Depression analogies in regards to what your brain is doing. The one that rings real to me is that all of your happy receptors shut down, while the Darkness receptors go into overdrive, taking over the all the signals so you are chemically incapable of happiness.
I’m a huge believer in taking ibuprofen if you have a splitting headache. I know a lot of people don’t take meds and I respect that. But for me, it saved my life, there’s no doubt in my mind. I recently watched a Ted Talk by Andrew Soloman who noted that in 50 years, science will look back to present day medical treatments for mental illness and find them barbaric. The hit and miss medicine choice, the sometimes debilitating but always present side effects, the acceptance of mediocre treatment (in the perspective of how well it works), I mention again the side effects, the addictive properties of many of them – they truly are barbaric. I mentioned this to Dr Birk, who completely agreed. But as Andrew Soloman is, so am I incredibly grateful to be dealing with this now rather than 50 years ago. I have what I consider to be excellent medical care, and yet I suffer from recurrent, treatment resistant Depression. I’ve been through remission many times, but as I sit here typing this, I’m in the Darkness again. I have absolutely contemplated suicide. There’s been a plan. Without my husband and his undying support and conviction that we will make it through this time, just as we did every other time, it would be too easy to give up. My tethers to this world hold me here when my strength wanes as I’ve seen firsthand the damage that is done to those left behind. It’s my worst nightmare to cause that pain to those who love me, though there are still times when that’s barely enough. And I fear someday my husband will realize, I’m not worth this, after it comes back just one more time.
No one has my stellar husband, and again I’m grateful that my support system is wider than just him. Ironically, so many of those I rely on, are people I didn’t know before this hit. People I’ve met and sparked with that I recognized walk in their own Darkness. To have someone there who understands, without having to explain, who has fought their way through, the strength we find together is an indescribable bond. I am incredibly open about my Depression if I feel safe. I’m actually more open with strangers and new friends than I often am with family or those who have known me for years. Opening up to someone who “doesn’t believe” in D can send me into a spiral. Needing to explain is exhausting and never worth it. Having the safety of those who understand and love me is sometimes the only comfort I can find.
I feel like I haven’t even really gotten in to My Story, but maybe I’ll add categories, or just post in Our Community. I’m hoping that someone other than me comes here and together we create an environment of this strength and comfort. A place where everyone is safe and doesn’t feel like they’re alone. I find strength in being there for others who need me, and knowing they need me as much as I need them is an amazing gift that I NEVER take for granted. So thank you for reading this far, and welcome.