My depression an unguarded explanation/expression of the struggle

I remember when my depression really started. At first it was just episodes of fatigue and disinterest or lack of motivation.  Then it started to affect all parts of my life, my relationships, my friendships, I started losing interest in things I normally loved. I felt trapped in a hollow blackness. Like something dark and evil was wrapped around my heart. Making me feel cold and disconnected. Sometimes feeling completely melancholy, other times completely overwhelmed and able only to cry hysterically, screaming into my pillow, wishing someone would hear me and ask if I was ok. I don’t know what I would have done if someone had asked, but I wished I could express it, name it, instead of masking it with a cheery outward disposition. I stopped feeling strong emotions when they would be appropriate, and feeling them only in overwhelming waves of anxiety and sadness. I wonder if I’d been given a diagnosis in my second year (2007), when I first started having those bouts of hysterical crying, a lot of my friendships might have been salvaged. I let a lot of important, wonderful people drift away as I sought solace in a single person. It must have been hard to lose your friend, the instigator and motivator of hilarity, and watch her stay home some nights where all she could do was cry or hideaway, I was probably exhausting to be around. I wish I could have explained what was happening to me. I’d give anything to get that time back, those friendships.

I will absolutely never forget the month (January 2008) that I spent in my mom and dad’s bed, crying hysterically, screaming that it hurt, that I didn’t understand, that I couldn’t do it anymore, crying until I could cry no more. Not eating, not showering, the only thing that got me through was that they were there for me, listening even when I made absolutely no sense.  I watched all 10 seasons of Friends, too. Some may not like the show, think the jokes are lame and the romance cheesy, but that show, along with my families support, are what saved my life and got me through the darkest time in my life. Pure distraction mostly, and something that could make me laugh, without thinking.

Thankfully, after a couple weeks of this, my mom and I insisted I see a doctor and that they start me on anti-depressants, any kind, just get the process started. I remember sitting on the paper on the exam table in emerg, not even worried about how I looked, or that I was revealing a taboo struggle, just too tired to hold back, and I told him I just needed help, that the bad days were more than the good, and that even though sometimes I knew I had no reason to be, I would be bed bound with what felt like grief.

Now that I’ve been medicated appropriately for 8 years, I have normal, human, ups and downs.  I have good days and bad days like you’re supposed to, but I don’t feel like there is a darkness lurking. A weight was lifted on my heart.  I’ll never forget that January in 2008. Some people have asked, “Aren’t there health risks to being on medications for so long?” And my answer to that is, “Those risks are nothing compared to what my mind does to my health without them.”