Depression became a way of life starting in 1994, and remained that way for 9 long years. I began psychotherapy for deep-rooted issues and that essentially was the driving force into a black, muddy world of hospital admissions, institutions, a myriad of medications, and deemed drug-resistant, the psychiatrists threw me to the wolves of ECT treatments. I have zilch good to say about ECT for they proved forever ineffective, causing only long-term memory loss.
Depression, best known of all the mental illnesses, is difficult to endure and treat. It renders one feeling hopeless and helpless. Experiencing a sort of wintry solitude, completely immobilized with any light of optimism dimming. It creates emotional and financial fallout, coupled with a horrible emptiness and black death-like existence. Life tastes sour. The best way I like to in fact express depression is: “when you are able to actually touch the black, depressive fog between your fingertips; you identify that death is possibly nearby”.
I lost my career, income, my house close to foreclosue, all of my friends, several of my family. One family member cut ties with my husband and I, fearful for his children due to my depression. So, at Christmastime, my husband’s name appears on the card – mine is excluded.
Finally, a psychiatrist came along who placed me on successful meds, and started me on the road to wellness. I was able to return to the workforce and remained with the same company for 6 years, however, due to layoffs and coupled with depression once again, my career ended. I am currently sitting in the ‘black hole‘ of depression, still dealing with PTSD issues and hoping that 2015 will be a better year.
My husband of 35 years has been my rock, and stood by me through all of this.
What I do deal with everyday though…..is mental illness stigma.
Written by: Me