Depression; My Story

I’m not one to seek professional advice about my self, but when I do, everyone knows its serious.

I’ve been depressed for 8 months now. My friends saw it building, I stopped laughing as much, stopped socializing as frequent and stopped helping other people.

I’m a person that always helps others in need even if I’m in more dire straits then them. I love good company and having fun, laughing and talking in general. But it all changed at the end of last year.

Nothing traumatic had happened in other peoples eyes, just my own. I’m not going to go into detail on what happened but instead I’ll say what I feel.

I felt lost and alone. Even though I’m surrounded all the time by people.I started to feel lonely and useless. Unwanted even. I was getting taken advantage of. Money, vechiles, even clothing. There was no positivity in return. No thank you. No appreciation. No gratitude.

But what I got in return was nastiness, and horrible lies about me. When I was told this, I broke down and cried. I was so angry, hurt and confused. But it proved what I was thinking all along. What I thought off how they thought of me was true. I was a nobody.

Yes, my depression started because of one adult. An adult that whenever he needed help I was always the last person he called but I was the first person to help. I always offered help, financially, or vechiles or food. I did what any parent does and go without for them. And my greatest strength was my weakness.

So many nights I would cry myself to sleep. So many days I would stay in bed, lost in my thoughts. A nasty voice had moved in, telling me that I don’t need to talk to anyone about it because they don’t care. I stopped talking to my friends and became a listener. That voice telling me they don’t care for my opinion, they don’t want to hear what I want to say. They don’t want to know what Netflix show I recommend or book or movie because they have no interest in it.

The voice continued to tell me not to bother my husband with my problems because he will always choose me last, no matter the dilemma. That he is too tired to deal with my crap. Then it worked its way to the children. Saying it’s my fault that some of my stepchildren moved in with their mother, they think I’m mean, that I am raising them like my mother. That I’m exactly like my mother. That they don’t respect me. They don’t care for me. 

Then it got nastier. The voice told me why I was really there. I was only the maid. I was only the cook. I was only the laundress. I was only the cleaner. I was only the ATM. I was only the babysitter. I was only there for sex. And for a while, I believed that.

My friends noticed I was sad. They noticed I no longer cracked jokes, I no longer smiled or laughed.

I turned down invitations for parties, girls night outs, bbq’s, any social gathering. I was in my pajamas by 3:30pm everyday, showered or not. I would cook dinner, serve everyone out but myself, then I would go to bed by 6:30. But I would never fall asleep before 1am.

I spent 45 minutes crying in the boot of my hatchback at a family outing, away from where anyone can see me. I would cry in the toilet or shower so I wasn’t being asked a million questions. I would drop the kids to school then go straight back to bed.

So I sought out help. I started on anti dreppesant tablets. I started seeing a physiotherapist. I spoke to her about my problems. And when I finally told a stranger they longer seemed important. My problems sounded silly, petty even. But it was the voice in my head again telling me that.

I started to feel better, even though I wasn’t eating still. I had lost 5 kilos in a month and lived off coffee. I wouldn’t snack. I wouldn’t sit down with my family at meal times because I felt like I was a disappointment to them all. That I was the problem. That I was unwanted and unloved.

My clothes were getting too big, my husband noticed that, as much as he noticed me playing with my bras that were now too big as well, I had to constantly keep pulling my pants up, my loose shirts that looked nice on me were now too baggy.

I looked sad and sick in my face, which I covered everyday behind make up so I looked happy and healthy.

I had good days. I had horrible days. But everyday was me laying in bed lost in my thoughts, crying. It may have been for five minutes or hours.

My husband didn’t know what to do. He had never seen me like this before. He had never gone through this before. 

But recently, another voice broke out in my head. Strong and stern. Willful and powerful. It was the opposite of the first one that was nasty, vindictive, controlling and manipulative. This strong voice was mine. The one I had before I went downwards.

It was my voice but it was my husbands. It was my children’s. It was everyone that I hold dear and near to me. And what it said was powerful to me. It was remnants of memories. Reminding me of what good friends I have. What a supporting family I have. It said stuff like “you are the exact opposite of your mother.” “You are passionate and so thoughtful.” “You have the biggest heart I know. You have a heart of gold.” It was all the “I love you” and all the hugs. It was all the smiles I have received and given. “You are not useless or unwanted.” But the strongest and loudest of them all was mine. “GET UP.” 

I obeyed and got up. I showered and washed my hair. I washed the clothes, the dishes, the floors, the rugs. I worked. I sociallised again. I laughed and smiled. I cuddled and let out more I love yous’ and played. I went out with friends. Hubby and I started going out again. I still see a shrink, I still take my medicines. I am eating again. But in all this, I still have a battle in my head, the good verse the ugly. But the odds are looking good. 

Because I love my life, I won’t change a bit of it. I love my family. I love my kids. I love my work. I love what I do. I LOVE my life. I may have depression, I may have a battle with it for another month, six weeks, two years or longer. I don’t know. But I don’t care because I am happy right now. 

I keep myself distracted by baking and cooking. Doing housework. Looking after my kids. I work with kids. They make me happy and they can be so funny. I go out with my friends and have fun. I watch movies I never seen before, I count while I knit or crotchet. I play video games, I work, I volunteer. I am a busy person and I will be damned if I’m going to lay in bed wasting my life on one problem when I have so much more to look forward to and to enjoy.

I have so many new and happy memories to create. I wanted to laugh again. To smile. And when I decided to get up and do something productive, my husband compliment how much he missed my smile. My friends also complimented how much they missed my laughter. My children noticed I was getting happier, I was in a better mood each day.

I may be depressed but I’m not letting it win. Because a hell of a lot more people like me then people that don’t. Because people are interested in what I have to say. Because I make people laugh. Because people do enjoy my company.

So screw you depression. You may be here with me, but you won’t be here forever because I will win. You may hold a few bad moments of my life but my happy days, my fun days, my awesome days, they outweigh my bad days. The best memories of my adulthood are fair more superior to my bad memories from my whole life.


Author: Having a Say

school mum, stands up for my beliefs, proud australian

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