I suffer with depression and anxiety disorder. Like many sufferers, I can be generally ok but a bad episode (which can potentially last years) can be triggered at any time by events out of my control.
History
I was a very sad child, often feeling lonely, small and weak. I was an easy target for bullies and didn't cope with it very well: even the light teasing could make me cry and set me apart from the other children. I did have some friends I played with in the playground etc but I never really felt like I was on a par with any of the other children. I've never really had a 'best friend'.
This continued and evolved right through my time at school. Looking back, some of my peers were very forgiving: tried to make me feel like one of them but I didn't make it easy for them: by then I didn't know how to be "normal" and respond in normal ways to normal situations. So by my teens the sense that I didn't fit in, and as a consequence, my sense of self-worth had become self-perpetuating. My peers must have thought I was quite weird and I only seemed capable of continually proving that to be true. I tried to fit in - I wanted to fit in - but my clumsy attempts just made me look even more odd. I found things to blame - such as the fact that my parents couldn't afford the branded trainers or games consoles most of the other kids had - and that was what made me different. I lied to make myself seem more normal. The usual things: a fake girlfriend that they didn't know; a working brother who had the clothes, stereos, games consoles etc that the kids had and I wanted (that was partly true but I embellished).
Parents and teachers will hopefully be more aware nowadays than they were in the 1980s. But if a child seems overly-burdened, isolated, sad, or reactionary, don't let it go on. It may not be that easy to spot, especially in a crowd, but it's imperative that we do.
I've often wanted to compartmentalise my past and hide it away. I tried it as a child, when we moved house and I went to a different school - but there I was a bit different: I had a slightly different accent and was generally brighter than most of the kids in my class. I tried again when I started College, but I was socially immature and failed again. I have memories of that period: my older brother moved out and I finally got my own bedroom. I spent many hours just lying on my bed staring at the wall, unable to summon the energy to do anything at all. I wanted to study, or do something creative, or do anything but I had absolutely no power move myself, other than to do the absolute minimum to exist and not get kicked out of College and University.
My parents suspected all was not well and my Dad clumsily tried to talk to me but I clammed up. I'd never felt particularly close to my family and they weren't the right people for me to talk to. There wasn't really anyone I could talk to at that time. My tip here would be to try to keep your own social circle and try to make sure your children have a social circle. I never did. As well as struggling to make friends at school, my parents didn't have a social life either - I'm not entirely sure why - and so apart from a cousin - who was equally as odd as me anyway - there wasn't anyone around my age to practice socialising with. I grew up with brothers nearly 8 years older and 6 years younger than me and they were my friends (not that it felt like it at the time!).
Socially, things improved a bit at University and again when I moved to Manchester: I was able to shut off my previous life and mostly start again. However, in my mid 20s, I had a bad episode of depression and acted in ways I'm now extremely embarrassed about: drukenly performing horribly depressing songs (I was in a band; I knew those songs would never see the light of day) to a couple of friends who had come up to my flat for a nightcap; storming around with the weight of the world on my shoulders; reacting badly to perceived criticism; ranting angrily against anything I didn't like (which was most things). I'm still friends with some of the people who saw me like that and I think that will always be at the back of my mind when I'm around them. It was around that time I was first offered counselling, although I wasn't really in a good place for it and it didn't do me much good. Eventually I struggled through it and mostly came out of the other side.
Depression hit again in my early 30s after being made redundant and stayed with me during a fairly lengthy period of unemployment. I had thought about suicide a lot as a child and adolescent but I was scared and also wanted to prove "everyone" wrong. The only time I've really thought about how I might do it was in 2009, staring out of a fourth-floor window, wondering whether I could make that work. What stopped me was knowing what it would do to my girlfriend and my parents. That time, I was more aware that I needed help and saw the GP when I found myself unable to cope. Many months later, when work and new friends had come along and my depression had lifted, I had CBT for depression and anxiety disorder. It helped me to understand some of the mental processes behind my illness and tried to give me the skills to break the cycle. I think I saw some benefits from it but although I was engaged and keen to help myself, I don't think I was really able to change all that much: perhaps my ingrained processes felt safer; I knew them and knew they'd kept me going. They were what made me me.
One of my own barriers to overcoming mental health disorders is the length of time I've suffered and believed in the existence of this flawed, angry victim. I've developed coping mechanisms which are counter-productive and, in the depths of an episode, I have to fight against the idea that I should stay this way. For some reason, I have an urge to be true to the person I feel I've always been, as though feeling well, positive and happy would make me a different person, someone I don't know.
My latest/current episode
For what felt like a long time, things were ok. I still struggled more than a lot of people with anxiety (failing to pass my driving test - twice - due to what felt like completely debilitating nerves) and had periods where worries were overwhelming, or I felt my anger at the world coming to the surface too quickly. But mostly, I was able to enjoy things and react relatively normally to situations.
Then, two years ago, my Mum passed away. My complicated feelings about my childhood and what makes me the way I am resurfaced at the same time as grief was starting to develop and worries for my Dad were prominent in my mind. Over the following weeks I was in a daze, battling on with work and raising a child on auto-pilot. A few months afterwards, I felt the depression rumbling towards me: I can't describe how I knew, I just knew. It was like I could sense a tidal wave headed towards me but I knew I was buried up to my head in the sand and I needed to get help.
I saw my GP and for the first time, I tried anti-depressants: this time, with a family and a more stressful job, I really needed day-to-day help. However, the side-effects were too much to cope with and I stopped taking them. This was one of the hardest periods of my life. I think my depression may have been deeper in my youth but this time, I had responsibilities. Again, it took a long time to get some therapy and I was really clinging on, crying at work almost every day (fortunately I have my own office so I could do that in private), shaking inside as I tried to deal with the demands of a toddler and my own expectations of what I needed to try to be as a Father; knowing that at that time, I was falling short. I'm not sure how things might have played out if I hadn't had such a supportive wife.
Eventually, therapy came. I was able to delve into my past and relate it to my present, exploring things I've thought about for years and finding new explanations for the ways that I act or deal with certain situations. I also tried some other anti-depressants and the side effects were considerably more manageable and my body overcame some of those (such as the tiredness which put a temporary halt on my exercise regime - which of course is meant to help with depression).
Some people don't want a diagnosis and I understand that: they don't want a label, feeling that it might define them. For me, it really helps to have a professional confirm that the way I am is understandable given the circumstances of my childhood and to agree with some of my own assessments of my problems. I took a lot of notes and will be able to refer back to them in future to remind myself of possible ways to head off future possible episodes or to deal with them if they do take hold.
At the moment, I'm still on anti-depressants but I'm considering discussing coming off them with the GP. Some of the more manageable symptoms are still an issue and I'm keen to see how I feel without taking the drug. I'm nervous, though: last year was hell at times, but I want to see if I can be like this on my own.
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