Depression: A Secret Never-ending Battle
With the holidays so close at hand, I felt the need to talk about something that I find a lot of people struggle with but keep silent about it. It's depression. I have major depression disorder. On the outside no one sees this except perhaps my husband. I fight every day not to let my children see it either. It is so hard to show the world a sense of normalcy when inside the despair can be suffocating.
Normally, this would be a “skeleton” post on my blog. I wanted a different label put on this one. I have found, quite accidentally, other people whom I follow on Twitter that are struggling with depression or mental illness. I really wanted to speak to these people who are silently struggling, or just barely getting by with the medications they are on. It’s a frustrating search to find just the right medication that works with your brain’s chemistry. Most often, it’s not just one medication, it’s several in combination to hopefully produce the effect you need. I know many a time I wanted to just stop and throw it all in the toilet. Knowing in my 20s that I would be on medication the rest of my life for just migraines and arthritis was difficult enough. Add depression on top of that, and well, it’s a recipe for feeling flawed, worthless, and a downright burden on those around you.
I have a journal. Its use is not like many use theirs for. Mine is for journaling emotional pain, and depression. Once it is in the journal, I never reread it. Rereading years of how fucked up your emotional state was, is never good. I’m breaking that rule right now. I found the journal where the depression was at its worst. I had post-partum depression on top of my major depression disorder (which is sort of like kicking you when you're already down). I was coming off of 100 microgram Fentanyl narcotic pain patches to prepare for going into a special hospital for treating migraines. Doctors would perform what they’d done three years prior: strip my medications and start over from scratch. I had daily migraines lasting 12 hours. I wasn’t caring for my own children. My husband was. I was experiencing major narcotic withdrawal just tapering down. My husband will be embarrassed this is out for everyone to read, but if it helps anyone to feel they are not alone and should get help, I’ll accept responsibility. So, shall we begin? Hang on, it’s going to be rough.
July 26, 2003
I couldn’t hold and cuddle E this morning, and I know she desperately needs me. She called her auntie “Mama” yesterday and it broke my heart. My heart is broken and I am weak and cannot take care of them. It’s devastating! I keep telling myself this is just the drug withdrawal, but all I keep thinking is how they can survive and thrive without me in this world.
I sacrificed my health because I wanted children. I never thought how devastated my health would be after each birth. My head feels like someone is drilling into my temple. God, I don’t want to do this!! I know I have to, but this is horrible! I just want to scream in agony and I can’t stop crying. I try to rationalize this too will pass, but it’s horrible. I hope none of my children ever have to see or face this. All I want to do is die. I keep telling myself that my body is craving the drug and that my body can’t produce its own neurotransmitters replaced by the drug’s loss. All I think is how much in despair I feel…how it might be better if I were dead. The only good thing I try to focus on is that I have several bottles filled with morphine and I’m not craving it mentally. My body is just screaming for it.
It doesn’t bring any consolation. Looks like I’m going to need something for the withdrawal. I just hope methadone starts working or I’ll wind up in the hospital. That’s just not an option.
July 27, 2003 8:00PM
Took my first dose of methadone 2 hours ago. I suddenly feel like I need to make out a will. I don’t think I’m going to make it through this. R, I hope you find this when I am gone.
"R, I want you to know it’s okay to let go. You can let me go. I love you and I always loved you with all my heart. You made me feel safe in a world of chaos. I knew with you things would be okay. I know every time things go bad, I would have you to hold and love forever. You would be my only safe harbor I could rely on. It will be alright. You will get through any tough decisions and grief. I believe in you. As for my girls, I want you both to know I wanted the both of you so dearly to risk my health and life. I was an extremely mentally tortured child and was reminded time after time that my parents wished I was never born. I can never say the same for you both!! You are my shining light and the reason for carrying on and struggling to exist. Learn one thing from your mother, the tenacity to survive despite great emotional and physical pain. I love you both. Each smile, kiss, hug and twinkle in your eyes brought me such joy to my life. I just hope neither of you ever have to struggling in life in the same way I have. I love you."
July 28, 2003
The worst day is finally over. I didn’t think I would ever survive the day. I thought of ending my life and how it would be simpler than suffering. I mean after all, my father told me I wasn’t a mother to my children; he and mom were. I figured I’d prove them right. Then I realized it is not an option to leave my children without a mother. I keep picturing the smiling faces of the girls as a ray of light to hang onto when I’m nearing the end of my rope.
Like Thomas Jefferson said, "When you are at the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on." It’s the only thing I can do, but this to me makes hell look like a resort town.
Yes, narcotic withdrawal sucks ass. Eventually, I was stripped of all medications and started over with different medications. I was completely off of narcotics, and I don't regret that decision at all. What wasn’t being treated directly was the depression.
December 10, 2003
Well, it’s nearly Christmas. It’s actually raining today, and we’ve only seen snow briefly last month. Money is practically non-existent, and yet I have to make a lot of the presents. This is due to the lack of cash flow. It’s hard for me to deal with because I know if it weren’t for all of my medical bills, prescriptions, and over the counter stuff that was prescribed, we wouldn’t have this tension. So, I briefly considered stopping certain meds. I know it would be stupid to do so, but I feel so much stress and hear the stupid little censor in my mind saying how much things could be better if I wasn’t around.
I feel lonely and sad and isolated. It’s starting to be a struggle just to get through the day. I know it’s depression rearing its head again. The fear is my meds aren’t working because I’m tolerant to the drug’s max dose.
I feel so tired and depressed and I feel so fake acting like nothing’s wrong. I know R is under so much stress and he’s burned out. I don’t feel I can tell him what’s going on because the “Uh oh…here it comes again <rolling eyes>” reaction he’s going to have, worries me.
Inside I’m still that little girl sitting in the corner of my walk-in closet in the dark with my knees drawn up, clutching my stuffed dog, Patches, sobbing and crying uncontrollably. I just want to cry out, “Make it stop, please!” pleading with God to change the situation. I feel tortured again. At least the past abuse isn’t haunting my thoughts anymore. It’s just replaced with sadness of wanting more from life. Yet I can’t ask or demand anything due to the sacrifices R has made, our money situation, and the burden I put on him for all these years. I don’t dare demand anything. So, I sit here depressed because I feel like an automaton marching through life with my aspirations on hold. I don’t want to wake up in my forties and the only example or legacy I leave my children is the resentment that I didn’t do something with my life.
It’s December of 2009 and I look back at those entries as if it was another person living that life. This past summer I had a “nervous breakdown” for lack of a better definition. For the first time in my many years of struggling with major depression disorder, I would finally get to see a psychiatrist. My neuropsychologist suggested a few, and I took the one she thought was best for me. I had to admit it. I have a mental illness. I can’t wish it away. I can’t deal with it alone. I needed help and I readily accepted it.
My extended family doesn’t know this has happened to me. I began a new antidepressant regimen. It’s taken four months to get to a place of being functional. The other day, I felt happy. I felt so happy that I wanted to cry. That feeling was so absent most of my life. To look at it now, I realize I was faking happiness. This is now the real deal. It took nearly 40 years to get to this point. It’s like climbing out of a dark hole that I considered my home, to realize there is so much more I missed out on. I know it’s not too late to be what I might have been.
I wrote this for all of the people who have struggled with chronic pain and severe depression. I feel it is a hidden disease that people don't understand. The stigma of mental illness has to change. You aren't crazy. Know you are not alone. Do not give up, and do not feel ashamed.
Posted by kitterztoo at 12/9/2009 2:00 AM 
Categories: Facets of Me, Skeletons
Tags: depression emotional pain struggles medication blog mental illness emotions journey chronic pain twitter
Categories: Facets of Me, Skeletons
Tags: depression emotional pain struggles medication blog mental illness emotions journey chronic pain twitter
I'm so glad you're finally feeling some real happiness after all these years. I've been fortunate enough to not suffer from mental illness myself so far, but some of the closest people I've had in my life have battled with it so I've seen some of the pain it can cause first hand. I applaud your strength.
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I have migraines and depression - neither usually as severely as you seen to have, but I do "get" at least a bit what you are going through, or have gone through. I'm grateful mine aren't any worse than they are, though it's been difficult enough. My father had depression (mom had the migraines) and spent life growing up with my mom continually saying "I sure hope you don't get depression like your father." So of course when I got it I didn't want to admit it. I'm sorry I realized this only after he had passed away - because I understand a lot of why he acted the way he did only now.
It's a rough thing to go through - and like you said a lot of people - most people actually - don't understand it - even today with all this out there about it. It can freak one out to admit one has a "mental illness." The medicines I've tried over the years usually have made me feel worse, not better and I frankly have given up on finding one that works - I do better without it now I think. And I thank God for Imitrex - which is pretty much the only thing that helps my migraines now (most of the time). I wouldn't wish either on anyone - but you feel a certain kinship with people who have the same issues and you know they understand what it is like.
I like your blog - it's open and honest - I don't know if I could be quite so out there about so much in my life - though I am pretty open about sharing myself. Oh and I LOVE your story of how you do Santa Claus in your house - man, you are Thorough with a capital "T!" LOL
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I've had migraines since age 9 (variant of migraine with aura). I'm not sure where the depression came from, genetics or circumstances. It took a long time before I finally found a good medication combination. I've only been "normal" for about 6 months. Being on a buttload of medications for migraines is bad enough without having to admit I needed help for the depression. I've since realized it was worth the struggle.
A lot of people say they couldn't put what I've written "out there" for everyone to see. I refuse to hide anymore. If people are going to look at me as if I'm crazy, I might as well get it over with right up front. Do I say these things in real life? No, I don't. If someone asks, I would tell them.
Thanks so much for the compliment! Yeah, I go all out with the Santa business. I have no idea what to do about the Easter bunny.
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