Beat my depression

And I need it. Was actually in it at 12/13, until my mother pulled me from it and the meds. How do I put myself in therapy? How to pay for it?

And I need it. Was actually in it at 12/13, until my mother pulled me from it and the meds. How do I put myself in therapy? How to pay for it?

Part of the reason my depression overwhelms me so often is that I try to do too much. So today I pulled 12 goals, limiting myself to 30 acheivable goals. I have to pace myself, otherwise I’ll just start falling again.

And I’ve stopped feeling scared that I’ll relapse cos I’m confident that if I do, I’ll come through it ok.

I’m due to see the Doc later this month so I’m going to discuss going to an even lower maintenance dose of antidepressant and figure out when is the best time. I know there is evidence that the longer you stay on antidepressants, the lower the risk of relapse when you stop taking them. So my plan is to taper down very very slowly which will allow my body time to adjust and compensate for the serotonin boost it’s been getting. It’ll also give me time to reinforce the good habits I’ve been developing that help me cope.

for quite some time. I was first diagnosed with depression/anxiety when I was in my early teens, maybe 12, I’m now 20. I’m not entirely sure how it happened, what the cause or trigger was, but I feel I’m getting closer to beating it.

I dropped out of school after becoming agoraphobic and generally doing what I could to avoid going; making myself sick, self harm etc. It’s recently been pointed out to me by my psychotherapist, that, because I had no real/stable contact with my peers throughout my teenage years, I’ve no ability or knowledge on how to social with people, specifically people of my own age. Which is true, I just have to see people my age and I’m filled with hate, envy and fear, which pretty much destroys all possible friendships. After a year of counselling and some struggles, I started attending an education centre once a week. I’d had two counsellors, one who set me tasks and tried to help me out and another who focused more of the psychological sides of things; why I was like this. Needless to say, I didn’t find them that helpful, although it was good to have someone to talk to at the time.

I left the Education Centre at 16 after completing a few GCSEs. During my time there, I had made some friends who I’d never see again after leaving, gained a counsellor and confidant who would be with me up until I was 17, fallen in love and shortly after had my heart broken, cut off all contact with my dad, and started self-harming more aggressively.

Within less than a year later, I had entered college just to dropout after three months, made a friend who I secretly disliked but ultimately depended on because I didn’t want to be alone at college, been in four/five failed relationships, developed too many ‘relationships’ with older men online, depended on social-networking sites to make friends, continued to self harm, started smoking occasionally, stayed over at someone’s house who I barely knew for almost a week, took drugs, and even tried to kill myself.

One of the failed relationships lasted six-months, my longest, and was with someone I had been friends with for a few months prior. I still consider it to be my teenage-sweetheart-relationship even though it wasn’t my first, and has probably caused me the most grief, and is what caused me to spiral further into depression. The break-up was awful and happened due to my depression. I barely slept or ate, and I lived on the sofa downstairs for two weeks because I couldn’t bear to go into my room, even now I’m still not fully over it. I still know the person, and you could say we’re still friends, we got back together a few times but it didn’t work, we still slept together, and knowing he didn’t love me anymore, made me hate him. We’ve definitely drifted apart this past year. I depend on him for social contact and to be someone I can confide him, sometimes I wish him happiness, and other times I absolutely detest him. It’s a complex situation, too many things have happened to list.

The year after that I went back to college, and actually stayed for the full year and passed my exams. I made the first real friend in the entirety of my teenage-life, and even had some other friends that I hadn’t made online, but I was so eager to keep them that I didn’t let them see my negative side, they knew about my past, but when I felt depressed, I wouldn’t turn to them, I was scared it would push them away like it had others. In the later half of the year, I started drinking frequently, something I had never done, alone in my room. I still smoked and took some drugs occasionally. My self-harming was now less serious and was happening at much longer intervals than before. I’d had another suicide attempt, in which my ex actually took me to the hospital because of, at the beginning of that college year. And a few months before my exams, I found out my father had died, I still don’t know the cause, and have only visited his grave once.

Because of my new found friendships and sudden social-life, something I’d never had, the simplest things like walking to the bus station with someone became incredible for me. I can easily say – it was my happiest time. The next college year, pressure was put on for university applications. After finally finding happiness and friends, I was now being forced with the future that, soon, I’d have to be separated from them. I had no future desire, I have no future desire, for me, I’ve barely had any experience in growing into an adult. Socially, I feel I’m a child. I began to turn back to my cycle of avoidance, just like in school. After two months of my second year in college I tried to kill myself for the third time. I was 18.

Most suicide attempts, I think, are considered by most as ‘cries for help’; my first two attempts were probably that, my third definitely wasn’t. I wrote two suicide notes, one scrawled on my arm with thick marker pen, the other, a typed up ‘blog’ left open on the computer. I read it recently. I actually thought I was going to die, and I was terrified. I wrote about how I still needed to take more pills, how I felt sick and tired and how I couldn’t even walk. At that moment, I think every painful event, every loss and rejection, had crept to the surface to the point I couldn’t hold back anymore.

I’m not sure if it’s subconscious, but at about the time I became depressed in my early teens, I’ve managed to block out the majority of details from memories that, I suppose, would be painful. It’s made them vague, and almost seem unreal to me. The majority of what I remember from said events is the depression, and the after-events, I rarely have memories about the things that caused them. I remember trying to kill myself, but do I remember what initiated it? No. I remember the heartbreak of being broken up with, but do I remember the relationship? No.

At the time of that last attempt, I stopped attending college and slowly, the friendships I had made fell apart within months. I became unable to leave the house alone, purely because of fear and an intense dislike towards people. I destroyed my phone and all my social-networking profiles, got rid of msn and distanced myself from everyone. I was placed on anti-depressants and began seeing my GP regularly, after deciding counselling wasn’t enough, I was referred for psychotherapy. My smoking and alcohol intake ceased, but for a brief period of time my drug usage increased.

At this point in time, I’ve been on two different medications, seen two doctors and one psychotherapist. My psychotherapist has referred me to a Group Care Programme type thing (I’ve no idea what the official name is) which is supposed to help me get out of the house and socialize, I’ve been to see what is available but haven’t actually experienced anything yet. I keep an Anxiety Diary in which I write anything that causes me anxiety, and any times that I do leave the house and what happens. In the past few months I’ve become able to walk to the park myself (with dogs in tow) and stay out of the house for at least half an hour.

My next appointment should be within a week.

I just had my first appointment with my help from Guidelight today. I have to see the doctor about increasing medications first before we, that is to say myself and my help, go further. There are two things that my help said, Sadness and enjoyment. I have to get rid of the sadness with the help of medicaion before I can truely enjoy things in life. She made sense. She also said to me that I have to write a daily diary of how I am doing and wat I do during the day, like behaviors food activities moods ect. Also I have to think of the 10 most significant things in my life. I have to send that too her before our next appointment so she can see what is getting me down. Hopefully this will help me.
I need to see light at the end of the tunnel. I need to see something that is worth it. I just want to get out of here – I just dont want to feel like this anymore – it is going to kill me one of these dayz…

in the dark place again..

I wish I could say that I had a phenomenal, life-defining moment, where my happiness just fell into place, but I can’t. What I can say is that I am not depressed anymore.

The two best things I’ve done this year: letting go of my relationship with G, and admitting that medication is necessary at this point in my life. I was slowly choking when G and I were together, caught in an awful cycle of insecurity and self-depracation. We’ve only been apart two months, but it’s like the clouds have instantly parted. I am relishing being by myself and for myself. The sense of freedom is exhilerating.

As for the medication, if there is anyone out there reading this who is churned up about whether or not to give pills a try, I cannot recommend it strongly enough. I sometimes struggle with the feeling that I’m yielding control of my head to a little white tablet (and believe me, if anyone has control issues, it’s me!), but that’s not what it is at all. It takes more gumption to admit that you’re in need of something to supplement your efforts than it does to keep on getting sucked down into dark waters.

Done.

Blips are fine – I guess I was just scared I’d end up succumbing and getting dragged down into a depression I couldn’t climb out of.

I can honestly say I’ve had a few little laughs today (mermaid ponds – thanks to art4all’s cute little girl – and Little Britain have both featured). And I’m still smiling! I feel calm and healthy and oh-so-relieved that I haven’t lost the ground I’ve gained lately.

It’s interesting to notice the fear I have relapsing. I think it’s something I can conquer though.

By “sick” I am speaking figuratively. Mentally drained and emotionally exhausted, I am weary. I’m frustrated because there are things on my mind, on my personal mind, but there is no time to even think or organize my thoughts. There is no time, no space, everything is going to work and then trying to keep up with school. I do feel like crying a little. I want a break, I really do. But I know I’ve talked about why allowing myself a break is so difficult.
I want to breathe. I need to breathe. When I’m not writing a paper I’m researching for one, and then there is no time to study for a test. I drop all of that to go to work and come back exhausted, there is my final exam tomorrow morning and I have not had any opportunity to study, I’m finishing a project for another class due tomorrow also. I know I may be preaching to the chior here. I know my situation is not the worst. I also know I need to stop working myself like this but I’m so afraid to stop.

It’s my least favorite time of year again. Graduation photos are popping up in the newspapers and people are talking about their exciting high school graduation parties and plans for college. I hate this time of year so much, it is so terribly painful. The caps and those damn gowns, I feel like those are honors I blew for myself. Some of the most evil, unfriendly and coniving students made it to the podium, meanwhile I was wearing cuffs and being lead to a secure lockdown facility for “bad” boys and “bad” girls. These feelings and thoughts and self-declared inadecuacy consume me around this time every year since what would have been my graduation ceremony. In December, I’ll deal with the same flashbacks as the holidays roll around, when Christmas 2006 came and went without me, as I sat in custody awaiting a court date. When will I let this go? It just hurts so bad every time I look back.

Tommorow morning I head into the city for what will be the final day of the first round of summer classes. After that I have a few days off, then I work a few days, and then the next session of classes begins on Monday. I just want to get my diploma and walk at a graduation. For now I teeter mentally on what feels like a thin line between great success and great failure. If the day ever comes it will be overwhelming. I’d drag myself there even if I had pneumonia. It would be a very emotional day. That’s if I manage to get that far without either killing myself first or going to prison, the two terrors that are never absent from my nightmares.