by Band Back Together | Nov 22, 2010 | Coping With Depression, Major Depressive Disorder |
It was a cold winter’s night. The heater was working hard trying to remove the chill from the air, but I still felt frozen. We were whipping along the expressway at 80 miles an hour, but in my mind, everything was moving too slowly, weighted down by the sadness, the madness in my head.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
He groped to grab my hand in the dark. “Yes. Yes, you can. I’m right here. I’ll be here.”
I shrank back, trying to disappear into my seat. “No, you don’t understand. I really can’t. I can’t face it.”
We were on our way to dinner. With both sets of parents. Dinner with the parents, when everyone knew I was slowly going mad. Had watched as I took a baseball bat to everything that was good in my life and set about destroying it.
“You have to, Amber. They’re waiting for us.”
“But I’m brooooooooooken,” I howled through the sobs that suddenly overwhelmed me. “I’m broken and I can’t DO this.”
“What? What can’t you do?”
“This. Life. I just can’t, anymore. I can’t do it,” I said, then clutched my head hard enough to hurt and began to sob in earnest.
His hands turned white on the steering wheel, and I could tell he was struggling not to cry himself.
“Stop. Stop talking like that. We’ll get through this, together. We will. I promise.”
Again he reached out, and this time, I let him take my hand. Slowly, my sobs quieted, the agony once more retreating inside my head. When we got to the restaurant, I took a deep breath, stuffed the pain into its closet, and stepped out of the car.
We made it through dinner, his hand clutching mine under the table. Everyone ignored my red eyes. Pretended not to see when I bolted to the bathroom to cry. They forced their smiles and carried on with the celebration, determined to cling to a shell of normalcy.
As for me? I was dying inside. Sunk deep in a pit of depression so crushing that I could hardly breathe. I’d like to tell you that that was the worst of it. The end of it. But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
Before it was over, I had destroyed friendships, sabotaged my career,and dragged my husband to the darkest depths of Hell with me.
This is just one of many, many memories I wish I could erase. But I can’t. And that’s a good thing. Because they serve as a reminder—a warning. Now, when the symptoms start, I don’t ignore them. I slow down, reach out and ask for help.
I was lucky. I survived. Not everyone does. So if you think you might be depressed, don’t wait. Get the help you need.
It could mean the difference between living…and not.
by Band Back Together | Nov 13, 2010 | Adjustment Disorder, Coping With Depression, Major Depressive Disorder, Mental Health |
For the past few weeks, life has gotten the better of me.
Work and home have been hectic, but no more than normal.
Something else is wrong.
I’ve stopped blogging (until now, obviously). Twitter is all but a memory. I have 287 unread posts from some of the most amazing people that I can’t even find the energy to read. I haven’t really spoken to friends. My mum forgets my voice I’m sure, it’s been that long since I’ve called. I don’t read emails. I ignore my husband. I sleep through most weekends and can’t bring myself to leave the house at times.
I feel hurt. I feel empty. I feel like crying but lack the care factor to do so.
I don’t care.
Everyone’s always angry with me. I can’t do anything right.
I’m lost.
Again.
I’m so sick of feeling useless. Feeling guilty. Feeling angry. Disgusted with myself.
I’m sinking.
I’ve lost interest.
I’m struggling to find five minutes of peace to myself. It’s just not there. I don’t have any time. This post alone has taken me 4 hours.
I’m over everything. I’ve got nothing left to give.
There’s nothing left within me. No energy. No hope. Sometimes no love.
I don’t need help. I need space.
I don’t know about anything anymore.
Nothing’s certain.
by Band Back Together | Nov 10, 2010 | Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Depression, Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Major Depressive Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder |
I didn’t know if I wanted to write about this subject or not.
It’s a dark one.
One a lot of people don’t want to talk about. But I have been suffering with this for several months now and I need to talk. I need to get it all out.
You see, I am what they call “crazy.” I suffer from a wide range of issues. Social Anxiety Disorder, Generalized Anxiety, Severe Depression, Panic Disorder, PTSD, Agoraphobia, OCD. The list seems endless which makes me feel extra crazy. I also suffer from extreme pain in my feet, hands, knees and ankles. They doctors have no answers for that yet. I don’t know that they ever will. If blood tests can’t show it, I may never have answers. And my last issue is my stomach, I have awful pains in my stomach. My upper GI tract is where the pain is and the only answer they have is GERD but the medicines thus far aren’t helping. I always feel like I am about to throw up, I live in the bathroom and a lot of times I spend days and nights vomiting. It’s no fun. And now I have been afflicted with migraines and insomnia. I am sure the two walk hand-in-hand. I am not sure how much I can truly take. I want it all to end but I don’t know how. I have so much wrong with me. And so much people really don’t know, because I am afraid to talk about it or it’s to painful to talk about.
But my biggest problem is the medicines I’m taking. None of them seem to help. They only seem to make everything worse. And I just don’t know what to do. I know I need medicines. But what do you do when the medicine cause more problems than it solves?
I am afraid of being crazy forever. I am afraid I will end up in the loony bin. I am afraid I will snap and there will be no coming back. I am just afraid. The panic is the worst. I think the depression stems from the panic. And the pain and stomach issues cause more panic. So it’s a never-ending cycle.
But I have been doing some Google research and it seems Cymbalta, which I am on, can cause more harm than good in some people. And I started taking it because it had the least stomach side effects as well as sexual side effects. Well the sex thing is non-existent and is ruining my marriage. And my stomach obviously isn’t getting any better. So I just don’t know what to do. Do I stop the SNRI? Because all the others’ side effects are way worse.
Do I just focus on the Panic? What do I do? And for sleep what do I do? I haven’t slept in months it seems like. And I am losing my mind. I thought it was the anti-anxiety pills I was on, but I am now beginning to think that it’s the Cymbalta and it does not play well with others. I am at the end of my rope. I just don’t know what to do anymore.
I just want to feel normal again, and I am not even sure what normal is anymore.
by Band Back Together | Oct 20, 2010 | Coping With Depression, Major Depressive Disorder, Mental Health |
Depression lies, often telling us that we don’t need the medication that keeps us sane. Depression is a lying liar who lies.
This is her story:
I’ve been on and off anti-depressants for years. I first went on them when I was married to an abusive asshole. It’s not hard to imagine why I needed them. I probably needed treatment for PTSD back then, but it wasn’t as widely accepted as it is now. Maybe my therapist at the time didn’t know much about it or maybe she thought I didn’t have it. I don’t know. What I do know is that I have had my own issues with admitting I suffer from depression and admitting that I need brain altering drugs to deal with it.
Logically I know that there is some sort of chemical imbalance in my brain that causes me to enter The Dark Place.
Emotionally, I think I’m just fucked up and should be able to just pull myself out of The Sads when I get them. I feel like I’m admitting some sort of weakness by taking the drugs. There is absolutely no mistaking the difference I feel when I’m on them. Not only am I happier in general, but I’m a fuckton less bitchy. The most minute details won’t set me off when I’m on meds. When I’m not? Watch out. Look at me the wrong way at the wrong moment and I can’t promise that I won’t stab you. This makes living with me not so much fun sometimes.
Lately I’ve had a pretty good run off the meds; a couple of years this time. So good, in fact, that I fooled myself into believing that I was right all along. I didn’t need meds. I just needed to bully myself out of The Dark Place. It worked. Until it didn’t.
I’m in The Dark Place now. Way deep inside it. So far down the light above is just a pinhole. I’m struggling to claw my way back out. I need to make the appointment. I need to get back on the meds.
I need a kick in the ass. I need to realize it’s not a weakness to take the drugs.
The weakness is NOT taking the drugs.
by Band Back Together | Oct 19, 2010 | Addiction, Addiction Recovery, Alcohol Addiction, Baby Loss, Coping With Baby Loss, Coping With Depression, Grief, Help For Grief And Grieving, Loss, Major Depressive Disorder |
Three months after my third pregnancy loss, I started drinking.
In my mind, I’d done everything I was, as a faithful Mormon woman, “supposed” to do. I was married in the temple. I attended church regularly. I prayed, read my scriptures, paid my tithing…all the things I was taught would bring me true happiness.
I wasn’t happy.
Every time I heard “multiply and replenish the earth” I started crying. Nothing in my Mormon upbringing had prepared me to give birth to a dead baby. I was supposed to stop taking birth control, get pregnant and then have a baby. End of story. Nobody mentioned the awful things that might happen between point A and point C.
I was angry.
God told me to multiply and replenish the earth and I tried, dammit. What kind of messed up God tells someone to do something and then totally messes with them?
I was disconsolate. I was livid. I was miserable.
I had a plan.
I’d done everything I was “supposed” to do, but it obviously wasn’t working for me. Now I would do whatever I wanted, because really, it couldn’t possibly get worse.
So I went to a bar. I chose it carefully, because I had no idea what I’d be like or what might happen. I just knew there was the potential to feel better. I went to a bar where I knew the bouncer–we’d been on a few dates before I got married–and I felt like I could trust him to kind of watch over me.
Darin, if you ever read this…thank you. For more than I’m willing to discuss on a public forum.
I don’t remember what that first drink felt like, but it must’ve been decent, because it wasn’t my last.
I learned to drink.
I learned which drinks packed the most bang for my buck. I learned which ones made me gag but were totally worth it because once they were down they made me feel warm and fuzzy and like everything was okay in the world.
I didn’t drink every night, or even every weekend. Most of the time I was achingly sober, which gave drinking an allure that seemed not only difficult but pointless to resist. Why would I not do something that brought me a moment of respite?
I’ve had a lot of trite phrases thrown my way during this whole journey, and this is the one that always makes me laugh: “It’s not true happiness. When the glow wears off, you’ll be even more miserable.”
Bullshit.
At that point there was no such thing as more miserable, and if I could get 30…60…120 minutes where I didn’t think, I’d take it. Anyone who throws that phrase around has no idea what true depression feels like, and I’m happy for them. I’d prefer nobody feel that way.
So I drank. And I distanced myself from my husband, my family, my church. I still participated in all the things I had before, but it seemed empty. That was the one problem with alcohol–it wore off, and I certainly couldn’t spend every waking moment drunk. After all, that’s what alcoholics do, and I certainly wasn’t an alcoholic.
I couldn’t admit that I was drowning. I had to be strong, because that’s what you do when horrible things happen. You pull on your big girl panties and press forward. You don’t say that all your dreams and hopes for the future vanished overnight and now you feel like there’s nothing to live for.
That might make other people sad, and I was sad enough for everyone.
Luckily, I found a solution. I didn’t have to drink all the time, because there was something even better! It was cheaper, more accessible and, best of all, every bit as legal as alcohol.
by Band Back Together | Oct 11, 2010 | Coping With Depression, Major Depressive Disorder |
Living with depression is no small feat. Getting out of bed is hard – so hard- some days.
This is her story:
I am one of those people that has to make a decision everyday; I make the decision to keep trying. Keep trying to live. To improve. To get out of bed.
You may think I’m over-dramatizing, but as a person with chronic depression, a person without medical insurance, a person with a daughter who has special needs, a person without a job or an income, sometimes getting out of bed is a victory.
Sometimes I’m able to accomplish one or two things while I’m up, those are the good days.
Other days, once I’m out of bed, it’s a battle not to get immediately right back in. Sometimes, I start thinking about suicide. On those days, I have to remind myself of my decision to live. Sometimes, I have to tell myself to wait for tomorrow to decide anything. And when I do that, I know that I have to decide to live again tomorrow.
Some days are a little lighter. I can breathe and accomplish something and I might even be able to laugh. Those days give me a sense of hope. And sometimes that little dash of hope is all I need to sustain me through the darker times that lie ahead.
But, I know, as long as I keep making the decision to live – I will at least be here another day.
(ed note: keep on fighting the good fight. Much, much love to you, Prankster)
