About depression

 I get asked a lot of questions about depression. Not that I am in any way a leading expert in the matter. Or, that I’ve figured out all of the answers. I haven’t. But I am unafraid of stigma and I am eager to help, in any way I can. When I suffered from my depression, I wished someone could have been there for me. I wish I could have read some honest account from a young person like me, instead of having to turn to discussion boards on suicide.com. And so, whether you suffer depression or know someone who does or you are simply curious, I hope this helps. In any case, thanks for tuning in.

Depression is a very sneaky disease. One that catches you off-guard, and that is all consuming. In my case, I didn’t wake up depressed one morning. It was a long time coming. Starting with my parent’s divorce, going through my dad’s alcoholism and a insecurity-inducing job and finally ending with a failed relationship. I braved all these storms until one night, I didn’t. I woke up in the middle of the night with what I know now to be a panic attack, but back then; I simply thought I was going crazy. I was somewhere lost between dream and reality, between hallucinations and gravity. I was shaking, trembling, crying, I was inconsolable. Now, if you are like me, someone very rational, this goes…well against reason. You can’t control it, you can’t stop it, you try to talk to your self but your brain is not yours anymore. This lasted a week. Arguably, the toughest week of my life. I didn’t sleep one hour that week, which also didn’t help with the hallucinations and the nerves. I felt like a stranger in my own body and I could feel I was close to shutting down. I went to the doctor and got prescribed sleeping pills. Finally I slept but I wasn’t well. I was in a fog. I didn’t want to leave my bed, didn’t want to be surrounded by people. I was obsessing over things, I was entertaining ludicrous fears. I went to see a psychiatrist and a therapist. I was prescribed antidepressant (Celaxa and Cipralex to be more exact). I started going to therapy twice a week. Therapy was hard but being medicated was hardest. I gained about 25 pounds. I was constantly tired and bloated (a non-negligible affectation for sufferers). I had no energy. And I did feel like a zombie. But at least, the panic attacks had stopped. And slowly, my life continued its course.

It’s been two years now. I still go see my therapist twice a week. And my medication has been reduced by half. I am hoping that in a year, I won’t be taking meds anymore. I can truly say that I have never felt better with myself, about myself and my situation. I have hope. It’s not easy though, and everyday is a struggle. I know this sounds cheesy but it really is. There are days when I still feel depressed. But those are far and few between and the good days are great. The medication’s side effects have subsided. It’s not perfect but it’s better than at the beginning. I started seeing changes about 1 year after my treatments. It’s been a very humbling experience and one that has taught me patience and understanding. Change is not automatic but you have the power to change yourself. You can be your own savior. And that, is an invaluable lesson. xox