Depression and Anxiety disorders are extremely debilitating conditions. They affect your health, your ability to work and carry out everyday necessities, and your relationships.
I have suffered trauma after trauma after trauma since childhood. From the age of 5 I was molested by a close friend of the family for several years, and due to this I was a very introverted, shy child, which meant I also suffered bullying at school at the same time. Then at the age of 19 I lost my daughter to SIDS, 9 months later losing 3 friends on the same night in separate, unrelated accidents. One month after that, my father committed suicide. He had been diagnosed with Cushings Disease, which affects the pituitary gland in the brain, giving him no control over his moods. In what must have been the most profoundly depressed mood he had experienced he made the decision to suicide.
The whole time, for many years, I kept telling myself I was OK, even while suffering through other traumas - the losses of many other family members and friends; the abuse and assault perpetrated upon my person by my sons violent alcoholic father, that has left permanant yellow bruising on my eyes 20 years later, after he kicked my entire body and stomped on my head and chest with his steel tipped work boots, leaving me covered from head to foot with black bruises that covered my body for a month, and concussion for at least 3 months, before retrieving a knife from the kitchen and considering stabbing me to death; the mental and emotional abuse perpetrated by another partner that destroyed every bit of self-confidence and respect I had for myself; learning 4 years after my daughter died from SIDS, from a complete stranger, that my mother-in-law had told everybody I let my daughter die from malnutrition; almost losing my life when my liver was shattered having been kicked by a horse, and finding out subsequently, that my mother, who had been called by the hospital and told the family should attend because I wasn't expected to live, not only didn't even tell the rest of the family, she complained because her days plans with my sister had been ruined; and not ever really feeling alright.
Then in 2001 I was assaulted by my teenage son, and I was arrested and charged with Assault Occassioning Actual Bodily Harm, as he had injured himself beating me up and lied about how he received the injuries, accusing me of inflicting the injuries on his knuckles. This resulted in my mother refusing to speak to me for 3 years, and my 3 siblings refused to even so much as talk to me, let alone have anything to do with me (and I thought they knew me better than that - and they will not talk to me now 8 years later, and never will) and at no stage would they, or have they ever, allowed me to tell them what really happened. And to top it all off, my son was diagnosed with Schizophrenia less than 2 years later; ran away from the foster home he was placed in; refused to co-operate with DOCS, who had no idea where he was despite the fact he had been placed in their care; didn't complete even Year 10 at school, despite written promises from DOCS that he would receive an education; became an addict and alcoholic; and became a father at the age of 16.
The darkness that descended on me was completely overwhelming, and I found myself crying all day, every day. I quit my job, my personal hygiene went straight down the shute, and I couldn't even get up the energy to wash a dish, let alone perform any of the household tasks that needed doing. Then one day I sat down and wrote a suicide note, and some extremely bitter letters to friends and family. I had decided that life wasn't worth living if I was going to have to endure the pain of trauma for, as I saw it, the rest of my life. I couldn't see an end to any of it, and believed I had been put on this earth to do nothing but suffer, suffer, suffer.
But in the end I just couldn't go through with it, particularly as I knew the affects suicide had on those left behind, after losing my father. And I certainly wasn't going to inflict that pain on my son, despite what he had done. So I sought help. I went to see my doctor, had assessments by Mental Health experts, and was diagnosed with Depression & Anxiety and put on Zoloft.
I researched Depression and it's causes, and the article that stuck in my mind the most, was one explaining the physical reasons why depression can occur. There is a fluid in our brains called Seratonin, which is what helps us cope with trauma. It depletes and repletes, according to what is happening to us in our lives at that particular time. But in extreme cases, when a person doesn't get a break from trauma, the Seratonin depletes completely and the body is unable to produce it any more. This is why the majority of Anti-Depressants are Seratone based. It replaces the Seratonin that the body just cannot produce.
So gradually, in time, I began to improve and get on with my life. But even though I wasn't feeling depressed something just still wasn't right. I felt numb, and I wasn't experiencing the lows anymore, but I wasn't experiencing the highs either. And nothing had really changed when it came to my personal hygiene and the housework - I just couldn't be bothered with anything. I still wanted things from life but couldn't do anything to make them happen.
A couple of years ago I decided to apply for the Disability Support Pension, as I wasn't able to work, and the anxiety at just the thought I would have to be awake at a certain time in the morning made it impossible to sleep. I've suffered from sleeping problems since I was a child, to the point I would be unable to sleep, sometimes for days on end, until the exhaustion virtually caused me to pass out. I've often attended appointments early in the morning, having not been able to sleep the night before. This process was very lengthy and quite complicated, and my application was rejected several times, despite reports from doctors etc. I just couldn't get across to them how debilitated I had become, and it was 14 months before I was finally granted the DSP.
I also applied for Victims Compensation for the molestation that occurred to me as a child, and for the assualt perpetrated by my son. This is also a very lengthy and very complicated process. I had to see different doctors and mental health experts for assessment quite a few times, and I noticed that every one of them asked about my personal hygiene and about things like, whether or not I was able to perform household tasks, etc. I realised these things were affected whether I was on medication or not.
I live in a rural area more than 60 kms from the nearest town, without public transport available, and several weeks ago I ran out of Zoloft, and due to limited finances I wasn't able to afford to drive into town, see my doctor for a new script, or buy the prescription either. At first I panicked - I thought if I didn't get it I would be a mess in no time, so I tried to settle in and just wait the time out. A week went by and I felt fine. Then another week went by and I realised that I was doing things - things I normally couldn't be bothered doing. I was tidying the garden, doing the dishes, the laundry, catching up on paperwork. I enrolled in an Architectural Technology Diploma course, started walking around the bush on my property with my dogs, and cleaning the house - boy did I clean! I had my motivation back! All these years and I never realised that the medication I was on had stolen my motivation. I just thought all this time that this is just the way I've become, and I have absolutely no control over it.
By the time I finally got to see my doctor I knew I could never go back to "that place" ever again. And after discussing it with him, despite misgivings that he would make me keep taking the medication, we came to the decision that I would stay off the medication and just simply see how things went. I could always go back onto medication if I felt I needed to.
Anti-depressants have their place, but there are side affects and pitfalls. Depression doesn't have to be a life sentence. I don't suffer from depression anymore, and I still have an anxiety disorder. But I do believe I can overcome the anxiety in many ways. Personally, it always helps to tell myself - there is always, and always will be, someone worse off than me. I watched a man on TV collapsed beside his pushbike, moaning inconsolably, with tears streaming down my face, because he had lost his entire family in the Bali Tsunami - there is someone worse off than me. I watched the victims of the recent Victorian bush fires - there are people worse off than me. I watched, live on TV, the second plane hit the tower on 9/11, sobbing uncontrollably - there are literally thousands and thousands of people, in a split second, who are worse off than me. I recall attending the first meeting of Compassionate Friends I went to after losing my daughter. A woman told the group about how she lost her husband and 14 year old son in a boating accident, and their bodies were never found. Then 2 years later she watched helplessly as her by then 14 year old daughter was hit and killed by a bus. I never went back to another meeting - her pain caused me too much pain - there is a woman who is worse off then me.
And most importantly, I tell myself over and over again - "That which does not kill me, only makes me stronger!"