Posts Tagged depression
“People think that my life is so great. I travel the world. I’m a ski racer. Everything is great. I’m happy but you don’t know. Everything is not sunshine and roses.”
“Go talk to someone and be open about it. Don’t keep it to yourself and stay locked in your room.”
–to Katie Couric on a recent episode of The Katie Show, October 2013
When the police officers arrived at my door a few days prior I’d been given the option for lock-up or to go to the hospital for a psychiatric evaluation. I’d gotten quite angry with my neighbor and taken a shovel and knocked out the lights at the bottom of my driveway. I’d also spray painted “Hate the PO PO” on my garage door. As a bonus, I ended up losing five pounds while at the psychiatric facility. There wasn’t much she could offer me at this time. I’d been seeing the same therapist for about seven years and I’d always had a psychiatrist whether they’d been all that useful to me or not.
I’d been prone to angry outbursts at times and believed they were just part of my outspoken nature or my attitude toward completing work tasks I’d felt were beneath me or unnecessary to the goals for the particular organization. I’ve been fired, walked out on jobs, yelled and cried and remained in bed for long spurts of time. I truly believed this was all a manifestation of my clinical depression. Nothing more.
My male friend of a decade told me he planned to start dating. We’d dated for two years and remained friends for eight years. And not just call-you-up-for-a -drink kind of friends. My mom used to say we were like an old married couple. From an outsider’s perspective it looked as if we were still dating. We’d go out to expensive dinners, see plays and concerts and spent five consecutive New Year’s Eves in a lovely room at Boston Harbor hotel to watch the fireworks. We weren’t having sex even though I slept in his bed many nights.
This guy verbally abused me, controlled and manipulated me but I was insecure and he’d be mean and cruel and then nice so I wasn’t confident enough to just walk away. He once told me “I’m not letting you go” but then another time told me “reading is a waste of time” or “your liberal arts degree’s worthless.” I’d been dating various guys for the past eight years. Nothing stuck. So when he admitted he was actually exclusive with a woman, I freaked out. I knew, despite his claims, I’d lost him. Even though I spent a lot of time with him, I spent a lot of time independently of him. I’m a music journalist and went to shows alone. I went to films alone. I did my own thing. He didn’t like everything I liked and lived in Boston while he lived way out in the suburbs. Looking back now, I am glad he’s out of my life and regret I allowed any man to belittle me, control me, abuse me and take away my 30s from me. Luckily I’m in therapy and am working on that.
This BFF [I no longer believe in such a concept] told me we’d remain friends yet he started ignoring me. We weren’t friends anymore. Sure, if I had some computer issue or mechanical problem this engineer would come over and fix it. That’s what he considered our friendship now. No more lunches, concerts, hanging out. I’d been his practice wife and now he’d found his permanent replacement. I started incessantly calling him and texting him. I just wanted to talk. I wanted an explanation why he thought it was okay to coldly shut me out and end our decade-long friendship. Being a typical engineer, he wasn’t going to give me any reason. He just planned to cut me off cold.
I flipped out and cried and lived on Klonipin and Diet Pepsi for weeks. I lost 25 pounds. I dumped my pony’s manure in his driveway with a note: “you treat me like shit then you deserve shit.” I left signs on his street about what a jerky friend he was. I created a blog about him. I’m a journalist and someone won’t speak with me, I’ll express myself through words. Nothing that salacious just a few things only I knew about him. I’d made it to get his attention, to get him to talk to me. And he did. He left me a message that if I took down the web site that he would deign to speak with me. So I did. That site was up for a few weeks at most. Of course in the meantime some work friend of his copied it and posted it to Reddit and from there a bunch of losers made it to be 300x worse than the original site which was truly for his eyes only. Now I have a libelous Google footprint that can’t be erased due to its anonymous sources. Edward Snowden like hidden sources.
So to cease communications with me the engineer took out a restraining order against me. I was devastated. He really must hate me. Did he ever care about me as he’d claimed? He’d helped me with so much even while knocking me down. Since writing wasn’t a real career to him [even though I made 50K at my last position as a Donor Relations Officer], he paid for me to get my Certified Nursing Assistant certificate and associates degree in Medical Assisting. He and paid for nursing school.
Strangely, even though I haven’t seen him since our “goodbye” dinner at Upstairs on the Square in December 2009, he’s attempted to renew the restraining order every year even though I don’t care about his new life, his family, don’t know where he lives. I do feel I wasted a decade of my life with him and there’ve been dire consequences. In a low moment, I tweeted his name a few times and a judge granted him a restraining order that I can’t tweet about him.
When I finally found myself at the Brigham and Women’s Psychiatry clinic three years ago [apparently it takes a true crisis/ hospitalization to actually secure an appointment with anyone], I was in rough shape. I’d yell at everyone. I’d cry a lot. I’d done a lot of regrettable things. I punched my hand through a window at one point. That hurt and scared me. I’d get easily enraged and would act out on that anger. I’d yell. I’d confront people. I’d swear and make a scene.
The psychiatry resident diagnosed me with a mood disorder, unspecified. This made sense to me. A mood disorder means you get low lows and some highs. My mood disorder isn’t as severe as a bipolar disorder but it’s something that needs to be managed with medication and therapy. I take Cymbalta for depression, Topamax for a mood stabilizer and Klonipin for anxiety. I take a multi-vitamin and also prescription Vit-B and Vit-D which both help with mood. I also took a Dialectical Behavioral Therapy [DBT] class and a Cognitive Behavior Therapy [CBT] class. Both DBT and CBT help you to think before you react, to reduce your stress levels and to appropriately deal with your feelings.
If I’d known that I had depression and a mood disorder I’d have done things so much differently. I don’t think I’d have ever lost my position as a Development Officer at Children’s Hospital Trust. Sure I didn’t fit in exactly but I’m an excellent writer and researcher and no one questioned my work, they questioned my attitude. And due to the mood disorder I could only improve my attitude so much.
I’m not a victim but I have an illness. Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed about as it’s a chemical imbalance. It takes an entire support system of professionals and vigilance on my end so that I don’t end up on the street or locked up in a maximum psychiatric ward. I’m now calmer and better equipped to deal with stressful situations. Things still bother me. I keep a mood journal. I see my psychiatrist every few weeks. Unfortunately Brigham and Women’s Hospital no longer accepts my current insurance so that’s a new hurdle. [I’ve been seen there since the mood disorder diagnosis and I’ve been a BWH patient for 20 years.] I have constant med checks and medication changes but I feel much better than I did five years ago.
Stephen Fry has bipolar disorder. He recently admitted that he attempted suicide last year. His first suicide attempt was at age 17.
Speaking to comedian Richard Herring, Stephen said:
“I am the victim of my own moods, more than most people are perhaps, in as much as I have a condition which requires me to take medication so that I don’t get either too hyper or too depressed to the point of suicide. I would go as far as to tell you that I attempted it last year, so I’m not always happy – this is the first time I’ve said this in public, but I might as well. I’m president of Mind, and the whole point in my role, as I see it, is not to be shy and to be forthcoming about the morbidity and genuine nature of the likelihood of death amongst people with certain mood disorders.”
My name is Amy Steele.
I am a journalist, a nonprofit writer, a volunteer, a vegan, a medical assistant, a feminist, a compassionate individual.
I have major depression, anxiety and non-specified mood disorder.
everyone’s afraid of the truth. it’s easier to judge. to avoid. to stigmatize.
When I was 16, I developed bouts of anxiety when traveling to France –had an incident on the plane– but was fine during the exchange program. In college, I spoke to some therapists about feeling sad but no one ever said I needed medication or I was depressed. When I drove X-Country at 22, it got a bit worse. I felt strange driving in some wide open spaces or when camping but I managed it through visualization and breathing. After my first year of graduate school in Washington, DC, my housemate and I drove South and I just couldn’t make it beyond North Carolina. I went home to Boston and finished my masters degree at Boston University. I went to a psychiatrist and he prescribed Xanax which helped.
I really don’t remember anyone officially diagnosing me with depression but I had an awful time finding the correct medication and a decent psychiatrist. I started meds at age 27. I’ve tried beta-blockers, Zoloft, Paxil, Prozac, Serzone, Abilify, Lexapro, Wellbutrin and many others. I’m now 42 and in the hands of a resident at Brigham and Women’s Hospital department of psychiatry. I’m taking cymbalta for the depression, clonipin for my anxiety and topamax to keep my mood from swinging too far out-of-bounds (don’t want to be yelling or crying too much).
Over the years I’ve gained weight, lost weight and felt crappy. I’ve been briefly and mistakenly hospitalized and lost many friends. I’ve had people unreasonably judge me. I’ve had people who know nothing about me call me “bat shit crazy” or “insane” when I’m not. I’m *still* being harassed online due to my mental illness. I had to change my phone number and email and twitter. I lost my best friend two years ago because I had a breakdown and he cowardly wanted to get married and end our friendship.
People often don’t want to take the time to understand what you’re going through. Those are the people who should feel shame. Those people are despicable. If I had cancer or a physical illness, I wouldn’t be judged at all but because mental illness is just that people think that we have some sort of control over the chemical breakdown of our brains. A guy recently told me it was all “mind over matter” and being on meds was “BS.”
We do the best we can. We need support. We don’t need the stigma. We don’t need to be put into a box and told we’re having a bad day or going off the edge or that we’re crazy or that we’re having a meltdown. Don’t do that to us. You can hug us. You can listen but don’t label us.
I have an illness that I’m managing with a very good therapist (I’ve been seeing him for eight years), an excellent psychiatrist and medication. It’s not easy. I have good days and bad days and better days and worse days. I walk. I eat well. I do yoga.
My name is Amy, and I have No Shame.
Please visit The SIWE Project to share their stories and hear others’ accounts of their battles with mental illness and to check out @thesiweproject on twitter, hashtag #NoShame.
On Monday, Catherine Zeta-Jones’s publicist announced that she’d been hospitalized for treatment of bi-polar disorder. She has bi-polar II disorder which means she has more periods of depression than mania. She’s had a stressful year and external situations take a toll on anyone and particularly those who already have a mental illness. The best part of this is that Catherine Zeta-Jones can provide a high profile example that mental illness is a disease like alcoholism that needs constant monitoring and treatment but shouldn’t mean that people feel the need to keep the person at a distance.
according to the CDC, 1 in 10 Americans reports depression at some time during their lives.
Although Tom Cruise disastrously stole away her true message, Brooke Shields wrote a wonderful book about her post-partum depression called Down Came the Rain.
Ashley Judd has a new memoir, All That is Bitter and Sweet, where she discusses her battles with depression.
Judd also stars in the film Helen [available via netflix instant] where she plays a woman who hides her depression and has a major breakdown. It’s an excellent performance and quite a good film. I have depression and I thought the depiction very accurate. Although depression manifests itself differently in everyone.
The rich and famous aren’t immune.