"I didn't know why I should wake up." Personal story about life with depression

2024 Author: Malcolm Clapton | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 03:44

A depressed person may look and act completely normal, but that doesn't mean they don't need help.

Usually, when people find out that I have depression, I hear something like “I never would have thought!”. This is how stereotypical thinking works. Many believe that a depressed person stops smiling, lies and thinks about death all day. But in reality, depression has many faces, and it is different for everyone.

Someone really falls into complete apathy, ceases to contact the outside world and looks very sad. And someone, like me in one of the episodes, leads a full life during the day: goes to work, dines with colleagues, laughs at jokes; and in the evening, when he comes home, he goes to bed and cries for hours, because life seems gray and meaningless.

How it all started

There are three diagnoses in my medical record. The first - panic attacks - appeared at 22 years old. The second - depression - at 23. Anxiety disorder - at 25.

I am 28 and I am finishing therapy after another depressive episode. There were five such episodes in total. It seems to be called recurrent (recurrent) depression, but officially this diagnosis is not on my chart.

Panic attacks and anxiety disorder are now in remission.

I was officially diagnosed with depression at 23. By chance. I went to a neurologist that day because panic attacks became an integral part of my life. At this time, I had not left the house for almost two months. A step beyond the threshold, and it begins: it darkens in the eyes, the heart is pounding, it becomes difficult to breathe, and you think that you are about to die. With panic attacks, the safe space (where you feel normal) gradually narrows. By the time of my visit to the neurologist, it had narrowed down to the area of a rented apartment. Then I decided: it's time.

In general, the neurologist suspected me of depression, which was triggered by the panic attacks. It happens. Panic attacks are very stressful for the body, and constant stress can trigger depression.

So I found out that I have two whole diagnoses. With whom I had to live, work and fight.

In fact, depression appeared much earlier. During sessions with a psychotherapist, we determined that I experienced the first episode as a teenager. I deliberately used the word "experienced", because I did not understand my condition - I was just very sad. The parents did not notice anything, and, accordingly, I did not visit the doctors. At some point, the depression just ended. It happens.

After that there were a few more episodes. And this one is the fifth.

Depression and life

Even in the most difficult moments of depression (I call them “pits”), outwardly, I remained an ordinary person: I led an active life, went to work, and met friends. And I was also a person who was doing well. That is, if you look at my life from the outside, I had nothing to be sad about. And by the beginning of the last episode, I did not have a life at all, but a fairy tale: a happy marriage, a prestigious job, good earnings, two cats - in general, whatever you want.

But depression doesn't work that way. This is not a disease "out of nothing to do", not a disease of "fat-mad" people.

Depression is not about "just thinking about good things more often."

In the book “Go crazy! A Guide to Mental Disorders”depression has been aptly compared to the kiss of a Dementor. It sucks all the joy and pleasure out of you. And only the shell of a person remains, who either closes in on himself and lies in bed all day, or continues to live his usual life, but does not see any special meaning in his actions.

There is no exact explanation for the causes of depression. So far, doctors agree only on one thing: most likely, it is triggered by a violation in the exchange of neurotransmitters - serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine. But the reasons causing these violations can be different: both external and internal.

The person may have a genetic predisposition to depression. And my doctors agree that this is my case. Each of the episodes had its own reasons: general stress, the death of grandfather, stress against the background of panic attacks, again general stress and the last episode, the reasons for which we have not yet figured out. For most people, these are undoubtedly stressful situations, but a person copes and after a while returns to normal life. And I could not cope - hence the idea of a genetic predisposition appeared.

In each of the pits, I felt the meaninglessness of my existence, I did not know why I needed to wake up, I did not know why I needed to get out of bed.

On weekends, I couldn't even kick myself into the shower. During such periods, I just lay there, ordered food, smoked on the balcony, sometimes drank, wandered around the apartment, surfed the Internet and ignored calls and messages from friends. At night I lay in bed and sobbed. I didn’t do anything useful and I don’t remember anything - a solid colorless stripe. If an art house director decided to make a film about the life of a depressed person, then my usual day, alone and obsessed, would be perfect as a script.

One of the symptoms of depression is anhedonia, that is, a decrease or loss of the ability to have pleasure. I was not interested in anything, I did not want anything. I remember that on December 31, 2018, I lay in bed and with tears told my husband that I didn’t want to go to celebrate the New Year, that I wanted to stay here under the covers. In the end, guilt overcame me. I understood that my husband would not go anywhere without me, which means that I would ruin his holiday. By 10 pm I was with friends and drank champagne with everyone. It took a lot of effort to collect myself and go, but I was able to.

Both before and after this episode, I found myself in this situation hundreds of times, but I always found the strength to force myself to do something.

I understood that every pit has a bottom, and if I go down to this bottom, it will be difficult to get out.

Usually it happened like this: I woke up, lay in bed for a while and gathered strength to get up. Then I got up and for a while just sat on the bed, sometimes I started crying, because I didn't want to do this at all - to get up, to go somewhere. Then I went to the shower and spent about an hour under running very hot water. Sometimes I didn't have time to get ready, then I jumped up, pulled on the first clothes I came across and flew out of the apartment - I just didn't give myself time to realize what was happening and get stuck in a swamp of apathy.

From the outside, I looked like a completely ordinary person and behaved like a completely ordinary person. But something was wrong inside me. Something constantly prompted me to think that this state will never end and I will live with it forever. That I will never begin to enjoy life, and I will only laugh when everyone laughs, for the sake of decency.

Treatment

Since the first time I was diagnosed with depression, my treatment has not changed: it is a combination of medication and psychotherapy. Pills help me put my body and brain in order, and psychotherapy helps me figure out what's going on in my head.

Several times my antidepressants were changed because the previous ones did not work or worked poorly. But this is not a problem with the doctor, it’s just the way the brain works. Some drugs are suitable for some, others are suitable for others. And everyone's tolerance to medicines is different. For example, my friend, with whom we are treated by the same doctor, literally takes away from a quarter of the pill of one sedative, and even half does not take me.

One of the problems in treating depression is that it is taboo. You can't discuss it with anyone outside the medical room. People may not understand, decide that you are crazy, or start bombarding with “useful” advice like “Take a break, watch a good movie”. And you may also come across an incompetent, indifferent doctor.

Once my psychiatrist was on vacation, and I started having somatic breathing problems. This wasn't the first time it happened, and I knew exactly what to do. So I just signed up for a hospital psychotherapist for insurance. I left in the middle of the party, slamming the door loudly. To say that I was furious is to say nothing. The first time I heard the classic "Think good before bed and everything will pass." I still don't understand how this doctor got his education. A person comes to you for help, and you devalue his problems and talk to him like a child.

This attitude of doctors is another problem, because of which people are afraid to go to the doctor or do not continue treatment after the first session.

One day I got up the courage and told a friend about my condition. And it turned out that my friend was looking for exactly the same person with whom he could share all this. But just like me, I was afraid.

This was one of the turning points, in my opinion, of the treatment. I decided that I would not be afraid to tell people what was happening to me. I will not hide my condition and will not blame it on a bad mood. This is very important because hiding emotions only increases nervous tension.

Since I began to speak openly about my condition, I discovered that there are a lot of people around, the same as me, and at the same time others. Friends and acquaintances of acquaintances wrote to me, told their stories and asked for advice. Most often - recommend a doctor. I already wrote that depression has many faces, like other mental illnesses. And all these people were different. Someone was worried about what they would think of him. Some didn’t want to take medication for fear of becoming addicted (and some drugs are indeed addictive). Someone feared that he would be branded as "psycho" for the rest of his life.

Recovery

Now I am finishing drug therapy, that is, I stop taking pills. My psychiatrist thinks I'm ready for this. To be honest, I'm not very sure about that. Treatment for the last episode was based on three pillars: medication, therapy, and support from loved ones. And there will be two left. It's a little scary. I would compare this fear to riding a two-wheeled bicycle without safety wheels.

It's scary, because everything can happen again. And my medical history does not exclude such a possibility. Most of all, it is not the illness itself that scares me, but the state in which I find myself during these periods. Sometimes it starts to feel like it will never end. And such thoughts, as you understand, do not contribute to recovery. I had periods when I began to understand suicide. No, I didn't think about suicide at all, but sometimes it really seemed like the only way to get rid of this condition.

But in fact, I'm really better. For all the episodes that happened to me, so I can say for the first time. I'm in a normal mood. Not good, just normal. You need to be at the bottom of the emotional pit for a long time to enjoy such things. Interests appeared again, I returned to my favorite walks and I read a lot. I don't spend my weekend under the covers. And I laugh when it's really funny.

Can I count this as a victory? Yes. Can I say that I am completely healthy? No. My therapy is not over yet. This is not my first depressive episode. And there is no guarantee that he will be the last.