Depression and me.

I first started suffering symptoms of depression was I was twenty-one. At the time I was working three jobs, only allowing myself a Sunday afternoon off. My Sunday afternoons were for drinking alcohol, and I would usually pass out on the sofa after a drinking binge.

As I am writing this, I cannot remember why I was working so much but I can guess it was because I was running away from something. What I do remember is how I felt during that time.

 I have a vivid memory of driving in the car and feeling like a bucket of water had been poured over me. A feeling of complete and utter despair washed through me, and I felt like I was choking.

This was the first time I had felt like this, and I did not know what it was. I have a lot of lapses in memory of this time, but I do remember it started to get more frequent. I felt like I was going mad. I could not sleep and when I did manage to drop off, I then could not get out of bed. I could not stop crying and sobbed and sobbed until my eyes were so swollen I struggled to see. I felt a sense of utter hopelessness and the pain I felt was so bad.

I got good at hiding what I was going through. I started abusing alcohol and cocaine with the friends that I had at the time and putting on a persona of someone who was happy, but inside I felt like I was dying. Winston Churchill called his depression his “little black dog” but mine felt like a demon that had invaded my body.

It soon got to the point where I could not hide it anymore. My family started to notice that something was wrong. Then one day I just stopped talking. I remember my mum trying to talk to me and having a feeling that I was trapped inside my body. After one particularly nasty episode where I had a complete break down my mum took me to my aunt’s house as she did not know what to do. They ended up calling 999 and a mental health nurse came to the house. I remember her saying to me “do you need to be in hospital?” I couldn’t answer her; I couldn’t even look at her. I was curled up in a ball as I felt so unsafe. The decision was made that the crisis team would visit me everyday at home.

I cannot remember a huge amount at this time as I was so unwell. I do remember that I wanted to end my life. The pain and sadness were so bad I thought I would never get through it, but I could not do that to my mum and family. I knew, even on my worst days that they would never get over it. But oh, how I wanted to. I can remember being in bed one day. I was staring at the ceiling thinking “I cannot do this anymore; it hurts so bad “. I had a vision of me hanging myself and I was instantly flooded with a sense of peace. But I didn’t and I am so thankful now that I had the strength to resist that feeling.

 With the help of medication, I managed to pull myself out of that darkness. I cannot tell you how I did this, but I did.

I would love to tell you that after that everything was ok because it wasn’t. I was stuck in a cycle of depression and taking drugs and alcohol for over 10 years. But it never got that bad again. They say when you have reached rock bottom the only way is up, and this was true for me, but it took a huge amount of strength, medication, counselling, and self-love to get me here today.

I do not share my story with many people, instead I use my experiences to help others, and I feel that this has also helped me to heal. What I will say to whoever is reading this is it can get better; it does get better and there is hope.  Please hold on because tomorrow might be better than today. I know it’s lonely and you feel as though no one will understand but hold on, you are not alone. Please reach out because you deserve to live a happy life too.  

Love and light.

Jenny x