Depression Lives With Me #3

...I went to see my doctor. He suggested more pills. I suggested he shove said pills up his arse. I changed doctors; a decision that changed my life. After many attempts I finally actually told my new doctor everything. Absolutely everything. He listened. He actually listened. I FELT HEARD. For the first time in my life, someone heard what I was saying. He suggested I see someone. A friend of his. A very nice lady, who I could talk to if I like. And yes, some pills. Not zombie inducing pills, pills to help turn my head off. WHAT? After 26 years someone was actually going to help me. I cried. I cried with relief, joy, I cried for the child in me that was no longer being ignored by medical professionals. I went to see this nice lady. It took me 4 months to build up the courage, because I knew it would be difficult. If ever there was an angel sent here to look after me, she was it. A quiet, older lady with twin sets and pearls. A gentle soul, who listened at the right times, spoke at the right times, empathised at the right times. Who also was able to tell me I was talking shit at the right times.
                                    She taught me that everything wasn't all my fault. That I didn't have to worry about everyone else's problems as well as my own. That I didn't have to look on the negative side, and internalize stuff.To walk away: to say no. She taught me how to meditate and clear my mind without drugs. Turns out I have a very unique brain. A very intelligent brain that doesn't know when to stop. One that plays and re-plays scenarios like video. One that already had a chemical imbalance without taking the Roaccutane. She taught me to accept the bad days as well as the good. To get through the bad times because they don't last. She also taught me that there are many ways to look at situations. I realize now that our coping mechanisms are habits we learn from our micro system. The key is to unlearn those habits and learn more positive ones. 
                                  I have helped lots of people through my job as a community worker. I have also gotten people the help they needed. Depression is an awful thing to have in your life. There is more sympathy for a person with a broken arm, because their symptoms are more visible. The suffering of a depressed person is not always visible. Tolerance is not always given to the depressed person. Being told to give themselves a shake doesn't help. As someone who contemplated suicide many times, I cry when I hear about someone taking their own life. It means the pain became too great to bear. To hear people asking why, and calling it selfish drives me mad. The one person who can answer that is gone. To them, it seems the less selfish option. To me, every time someone takes their own life it means we have failed them. Failed to listen, failed to hear.
                                    I am a very different person now. I know how to say no. I know how to let people be responsible for their own shit. Am I happy? Most days, yes. Life is hard. I try to make the most of it. I've had more than my fair share of troubles to deal with. Yes I get down. Yes I get worried. The difference is, it comes....and it goes. I talk and talk. I write. I blog. I am off anti depressants for a long while now. I'm doing ok. Each day at a time. Please please try to understand depression. It's not something that can be turned on or off. It's not simply feeling blue. It is a real illness.More needs to be done to help. More talking therapy needs to be available. There needs to be more awareness of the condition. More understanding. If I can ask just one thing of people, it's this: Instead of asking "How are you?" or "How are things?" ask "How are you feeling?" You might be surprised at the answer. In the beginning of my life, I lived with depression. Now depression lives with me.I kicked it's butt. :) 

SharonAnn

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