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Let's just dive right in
Friday, August 22nd, 2014 12:03 amI've dealt with depression and anxiety as far back as I can remember. As a child, I didn't recognize it as such. It was just life. It was just how my life was. And to be clear, I'll state right from the start: it hasn't been all doom and gloom all my life. I have experienced many happy, joyful times, and to be honest, that's why I'm still here, because I know it's possible.
Depression really kicked in around the time I hit puberty (and I feel it may be hormonal for me, so I look forward to menopause). I was two years ahead in school, so I started junior high (6th grade at my school) at 9 and turned 10 a month later. I was physically as well as mentally precocious, so I was already wearing a bra and in the full throes of hormonal confusion. It didn't help that I was the youngest, smallest, and shyest kid in the class. I was picked on, and I retreated into my own world whenever I could - headphones on and nose in a book. Music and books were my refuge.
In my freshman year of high school, I turned 13 and my parents got divorced. Huge. I also had my first real boyfriend and stopped being forced to go to church on the weekends my dad had custody. Lots of major changes, good and bad, and that's when I really remember my mood swings starting. I remember crying a lot (at least once most days) and being in religious and sexual confusion. Most of high school continued this way, and I eventually got used to the division of my family and got over the repressive religious crap I was raised with.
Still I was moody, and starting senior year of high school and continuing into college, I had sudden panic attacks. When they first started I had no idea what was happening. I thought I was going insane. I was afraid to tell anyone. I hid it until my unexplained absences from freshman English class forced me to tell the professor that I freaked out in class. He let me retake the final exam if I promised to get counseling. I did, but it didn't help much.
I had a nervous breakdown the summer after my freshman year of college and was put on Tenormin and Klonopin. They helped for a while, for the panic, but I eventually had to stop both when my depression came back. I self-medicated for a few semesters with alcohol and pot, which looked like typical college partying and to some extent it was, but I eventually ended up calling a suicide hotline and being advised to flush the last Klonopins down the toilet and call a doctor in the morning, which I did, and I was put on Imipramine, my first antidepressant. For the first time since childhood, I experienced what it was like to feel "normal" (not constantly sad). It was a huge relief. Eventually though, I realized that it wasn't just removing my depression, it was erasing all my feelings. I was emotionally flat. Great for accomplishing schoolwork, not for actually living life. I eventually took myself off it.
To make a long story short: as I went through my 20's/30's, I had some more hormonal/mood/drug experiments including a pituitary tumor and more panic attacks/depression. I took Paxil (which horrifically sucked for me but may work for some - brain chemistry is very individual) and finally found Remeron, which so far (and hopefully forever) is awesome and minimizes the bullshit my brain chemistry has dealt me.
I am obviously summarizing and leaving out a lot. But I have told you all that to tell you this:
I know what it's like to get up every morning and not want to be here. I know what that's like. If you don't, you need to shut up. Period. If you don't know what it's like to hold a bottle of pills in one hand and dial a suicide hotline with the other, shut the fuck up, and do not judge people for the hard hard choices they feel they must make to end their pain.
I also know what it's like to look at the face of my little sister in a casket, dead before her time, dead for no fucking reason (not from suicide but from a blood clot at 31 that her idiotic doctor didn't catch), and know that it is a waste to check out before you have to, before you are dragged kicking and screaming from this life. I know what it's like to have to try to keep it together while telling her children that she's in Heaven now.
My point is, don't judge. Death is hard to deal with, but life can be even more so.
Depression really kicked in around the time I hit puberty (and I feel it may be hormonal for me, so I look forward to menopause). I was two years ahead in school, so I started junior high (6th grade at my school) at 9 and turned 10 a month later. I was physically as well as mentally precocious, so I was already wearing a bra and in the full throes of hormonal confusion. It didn't help that I was the youngest, smallest, and shyest kid in the class. I was picked on, and I retreated into my own world whenever I could - headphones on and nose in a book. Music and books were my refuge.
In my freshman year of high school, I turned 13 and my parents got divorced. Huge. I also had my first real boyfriend and stopped being forced to go to church on the weekends my dad had custody. Lots of major changes, good and bad, and that's when I really remember my mood swings starting. I remember crying a lot (at least once most days) and being in religious and sexual confusion. Most of high school continued this way, and I eventually got used to the division of my family and got over the repressive religious crap I was raised with.
Still I was moody, and starting senior year of high school and continuing into college, I had sudden panic attacks. When they first started I had no idea what was happening. I thought I was going insane. I was afraid to tell anyone. I hid it until my unexplained absences from freshman English class forced me to tell the professor that I freaked out in class. He let me retake the final exam if I promised to get counseling. I did, but it didn't help much.
I had a nervous breakdown the summer after my freshman year of college and was put on Tenormin and Klonopin. They helped for a while, for the panic, but I eventually had to stop both when my depression came back. I self-medicated for a few semesters with alcohol and pot, which looked like typical college partying and to some extent it was, but I eventually ended up calling a suicide hotline and being advised to flush the last Klonopins down the toilet and call a doctor in the morning, which I did, and I was put on Imipramine, my first antidepressant. For the first time since childhood, I experienced what it was like to feel "normal" (not constantly sad). It was a huge relief. Eventually though, I realized that it wasn't just removing my depression, it was erasing all my feelings. I was emotionally flat. Great for accomplishing schoolwork, not for actually living life. I eventually took myself off it.
To make a long story short: as I went through my 20's/30's, I had some more hormonal/mood/drug experiments including a pituitary tumor and more panic attacks/depression. I took Paxil (which horrifically sucked for me but may work for some - brain chemistry is very individual) and finally found Remeron, which so far (and hopefully forever) is awesome and minimizes the bullshit my brain chemistry has dealt me.
I am obviously summarizing and leaving out a lot. But I have told you all that to tell you this:
I know what it's like to get up every morning and not want to be here. I know what that's like. If you don't, you need to shut up. Period. If you don't know what it's like to hold a bottle of pills in one hand and dial a suicide hotline with the other, shut the fuck up, and do not judge people for the hard hard choices they feel they must make to end their pain.
I also know what it's like to look at the face of my little sister in a casket, dead before her time, dead for no fucking reason (not from suicide but from a blood clot at 31 that her idiotic doctor didn't catch), and know that it is a waste to check out before you have to, before you are dragged kicking and screaming from this life. I know what it's like to have to try to keep it together while telling her children that she's in Heaven now.
My point is, don't judge. Death is hard to deal with, but life can be even more so.