Depression Lives With Me....
Because it is depression awareness week, I thought I would write a bit about my own experience of depression. When I was a young child, I was always thought of as "the quiet one". I am an only girl with three brothers. They seemed to make enough noise and bluster without needing any help from me. My father too is a larger than life character, what he lacks in height he makes up for in personality! So I used to just keep to myself, and let them get on with it. I never saw the value in small talk. I always knew that when I had something to say,people would know all about it. So I lived up to that label. As I grew older I became detached from the rest of the family, preferring again to stay in the background. We weren't very well off, and of course there were arguments about money. I stayed out of it for the most part. Soon my label became "the deep one". As in, "ah you know Sharon, she's the deep one." All I know is, although I may have been quiet and deep my head hurt like hell. all the time. My brain ached. I longed, and still do, for a switch. So I could just sit, and not think. Do you know what it is like, to over analyse and to pick apart every single minutia of life? and then to re-pick and re-pick? And of course, being different I was bullied in school.
I was never happy in school. You see, I've never followed the crowd. I've always done my own thing. Never part of the clic...So the incessant verbal and emotional abuse continued in secondary school. I was an easy target. I knew I wasn't any of those things they said I was, so why should I validate them with a reply? The bullies however saw this as a weakness. Around this time, at 15 years old, I met the love of my life Pat. We became great friends, before anything romantic ever happened. Our friendship was another stick for the bullies to hit me with. I didn't have a break at home either. My oldest brother bullied me too. I stayed out of my house for as long as I could every single day. I rebelled big time. I started drinking at 12 years old. It made all the bullies go away. It made my parents sit up and notice. I didn't even try to hide the fact I was drinking. I married at 20, had my first child at 21 and thought I was happy. But my brain still hurt. When I was 22 I discovered I was pregnant with my second child. The dark thoughts had returned by then, and my head was so sore. My second son was born in a rush. Because of this he was bruised and swollen. I didn't feel anything for him. I told the nurse to take him away. Something I have regretted every day of my life since. The nurse was lovely, she understood. I was tired. She washed him and dressed him and brought him back.I wanted to run away.I felt swamped, unable to cope. I went through the motions. The nurse sent a psychologist to see me. And a social worker. They said nice things, but I was screaming inside. Why couldn't they hear it? It was deafening me, why couldn't my family hear it? My mother took over the practical side of looking after my new baby, but tried to encourage me to take an interest. I was "suffering with my nerves" at this stage. It came to a head one day when I walked in to the restaurant where Pat worked, on my own, and sat down and ordered a meal. I knew I had forgotten something, but couldn't quite think what it was. Then people were shouting about babies. They were shouting at me about babies. I had left my two beautiful boys aged 19 months and four weeks, alone in our apartment. Locked the door, and went off. To this day I can't remember details.
"Post Natal Depression" they called it. It happens to new mums. I tried to tell them that I had these feelings pretty much all my life. Drug therapy was recommended. This meant I spent three months like a zombie. The drugs made me put on loads of weight. I didn't like this feeling at all. I can't remember the first year of my son's life. I chose to come off these drugs. they weren't helping. Just replacing one set of shitty feelings for another. I went to see a doctor once, who abruptly told me that I wasn't to have any more children and that would solve my problem. I told him that my problem went deeper than that. He patronised me, and sent me on my way. I felt he was blaming me. I blamed me. By this stage, my head hurt beyond belief. My heart hurt. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to go asleep, and never wake up. It would be better that way........
to be continued.........
I was never happy in school. You see, I've never followed the crowd. I've always done my own thing. Never part of the clic...So the incessant verbal and emotional abuse continued in secondary school. I was an easy target. I knew I wasn't any of those things they said I was, so why should I validate them with a reply? The bullies however saw this as a weakness. Around this time, at 15 years old, I met the love of my life Pat. We became great friends, before anything romantic ever happened. Our friendship was another stick for the bullies to hit me with. I didn't have a break at home either. My oldest brother bullied me too. I stayed out of my house for as long as I could every single day. I rebelled big time. I started drinking at 12 years old. It made all the bullies go away. It made my parents sit up and notice. I didn't even try to hide the fact I was drinking. I married at 20, had my first child at 21 and thought I was happy. But my brain still hurt. When I was 22 I discovered I was pregnant with my second child. The dark thoughts had returned by then, and my head was so sore. My second son was born in a rush. Because of this he was bruised and swollen. I didn't feel anything for him. I told the nurse to take him away. Something I have regretted every day of my life since. The nurse was lovely, she understood. I was tired. She washed him and dressed him and brought him back.I wanted to run away.I felt swamped, unable to cope. I went through the motions. The nurse sent a psychologist to see me. And a social worker. They said nice things, but I was screaming inside. Why couldn't they hear it? It was deafening me, why couldn't my family hear it? My mother took over the practical side of looking after my new baby, but tried to encourage me to take an interest. I was "suffering with my nerves" at this stage. It came to a head one day when I walked in to the restaurant where Pat worked, on my own, and sat down and ordered a meal. I knew I had forgotten something, but couldn't quite think what it was. Then people were shouting about babies. They were shouting at me about babies. I had left my two beautiful boys aged 19 months and four weeks, alone in our apartment. Locked the door, and went off. To this day I can't remember details.
"Post Natal Depression" they called it. It happens to new mums. I tried to tell them that I had these feelings pretty much all my life. Drug therapy was recommended. This meant I spent three months like a zombie. The drugs made me put on loads of weight. I didn't like this feeling at all. I can't remember the first year of my son's life. I chose to come off these drugs. they weren't helping. Just replacing one set of shitty feelings for another. I went to see a doctor once, who abruptly told me that I wasn't to have any more children and that would solve my problem. I told him that my problem went deeper than that. He patronised me, and sent me on my way. I felt he was blaming me. I blamed me. By this stage, my head hurt beyond belief. My heart hurt. I wanted it to stop. I wanted to go asleep, and never wake up. It would be better that way........
to be continued.........
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