The Deep

This is a rant about the toll depression has taken on my life.

The problem with depression is that it sneaks up on you like a crazy m**********r in the street who wants to rob you. You have no idea what’s coming, or when, and then it hits you. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I have suffered from depression for too many years to count, and it keeps getting worse. It has affected my son, my family, my relationships. I have lost a lot of things in my life because of it … and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. The pain is absolutely real, no matter what anyone tells you. I feel sometimes like I can’t possibly take one more minute of pain, and I seriously consider giving up and just being at peace. Other times, I want to rail and scream against it, and I end up lashing out at the people in my life who try to help me. I never know how I’m going to be and act from day to day, and that sucks. My antidepressants stopped working, so I stopped taking them. Now I am in a serious mental health crisis, but am terrified to go to the hospital or check myself in somewhere. I’ve already had that pleasure, and let me tell you, you don’t want to go there. I was in a mental hospital twice and it was the worst experience of my life. I was away from my son, my life, and was locked up with a bunch of people who had said goodbye to the real world a long time ago. When I got out, I breathed the outside air and told myself I’d never go back to such a horrible place again. But then the depression snuck up on me, like it always has, and I had to leave and move away, just to get some help.

So here I am … married, with three stepchildren, something I never wanted. I enjoyed being alone, enjoyed my solitude. So what am I doing here? I fell in love with my husband and moved in with him quickly, acquiring not only three stepchildren but a large extended family. My husband suffers from depression and bipolar disorder and I have sat up many a night with him, telling him it will be ok and giving him the strength to get up in the morning. Now I need him to do that for me, but I need too much from him. I need to talk to him all the time and hear that everything will be ok. I need to get validation that I’m not crazy, that this will not last forever. I try to talk to my friends and family, just to give my husband a respite from me, but they can’t possibly understand the depth of my depression and pain. My significant other said that I can tell him anything or yell or scream or cry, but how much of that can one person really take? How long will it be until he says, “Enough?” I don’t want to lose him, but sometimes I can’t stop myself. I doubt everything, even his love, and question everything he feels for me. I feel like no one gives a s**t about me, or what I feel. How do I cope during these times? I want to take time away, but have too many responsibilities at home. How did I get myself into this situation?

I saw a crazy quack psychiatrist last week, who told me the problem was all in my head and that medicine wouldn’t do a damn thing for me. I left his office shaking and in tears, wondering what I had done wrong to get to this point in my life. For most of my younger years, everything came easy to me. I got whatever I went after, and life seemed peachy. Then, in my early teen years, depression started to encroach on me, no matter how much I pushed it back. Now I am usually in a full-fledged mental health crisis, but don’t know where to go for help.

I am in agony most of the time, and no one seems to understand. They nod their heads and cluck their tongues and just look at me in that simpering way I hate. All I want is to be level and balanced; is that too much to ask? I look at people on the street or at work and they seem so happy. It seems like they have no problems, or maybe they’re just hiding things better than me. I want everyone to listen to me and sympathize with me and hug me and tell me it will all be ok.

That’s all I want.