Comparing then and now

Since my first episode in 2000, each depression gained in intensity and length until in 2006, while recovering from a 4-month bout and home from my first hospital stay, I became pregnant with my son. I recovered quickly, taking anti-depressants throughout the pregnancy, and I remained well for the next 3 years until my latest and most severe episode of depression suddenly began.

I had been gradually coming off my anti-depressants with no ill effects and was tremendously busy, moving into a new house, returning to full-time work and helping my son settle into nursery school, but I began to struggle to cope with these demands.

Then, one day when travelling by train to see friends, I started to have intrusive thoughts about the people around me, thinking they were 'happier' than me, more 'balanced' than me, in short 'better' than me. Later, when my friend’s partner told me about his high-flying job in the city, rather than just feeling impressed, I felt threatened, ill-equipped and inferior; my overriding thought was 'I couldn't do that', and from there, things just got worse.

My depressions are dominated by fear, and I particularly worry about how long it will last and how I will ever get out of it.  The overriding feeling is one of threat. The threat is the condition itself and what it will do to me, my family and my work – it feels like a constant, painful weight in my chest. I quickly become less confident about my abilities, feel like a fraud in my job and worry that I will never be able to cope again, and while I try to bear it in public, I ache with pain inside.

Depression takes a huge toll on relationships. It was bad enough before I became a mother, but this time was worse as I had a 3-year-old son. I felt like every interaction we had was going to affect him badly, that I was damaging him emotionally, that I was letting him down. As I found it increasingly harder to function, I also felt guilty because my husband had to do nearly everything.

The absolute worst thing for me is if I feel I'm not coping at work, and I wasn't. I couldn't think straight, my brain slowed down, I wasn't eating, I couldn't concentrate and I became anxious that I would lose my job. My job is so important, not only for the income, but because it is wrapped up with my self-belief, my social networks and my ambitions for the future. When that is threatened I feel I lose my grip on everything.

For me, being depressed feels like a physical illness, and the suggestions of some friends like “why not read?” or “can’t you take some work to a cafe?” made it clear that they didn’t really understand. Every moment is painful, just like when you have a sore throat or a headache. You ache inside, you feel very tired, washed out, tearful, drained. Nothing is enjoyable.

My son was starting to notice I was ill, so I decided to go and stay in our local Priory. Unfortunately the month in hospital did not really help. The doctor kept advising me to “let go” and “just relax” but I could not stop continually assessing myself and my feelings. I frequently found myself in uncontrollable tears in the group therapy sessions and I felt terribly guilty about being away from home.

When I came home and was no better, my parents offered to have me stay at theirs for a while which meant I could see my family every day, but also have time apart. My mother devoted herself to encouraging me to get up and out and keep occupied, but I begrudged her terribly and cried every day for 2 weeks as I felt nothing was getting better. Then some time after that I began to feel calmer, and slowly the light emerged.

Now...

Here I am, a year later with my husband, in my own home, with a happy 4 year old and a flourishing career. But the last year has by no means been peaceful. I was diagnosed with hypomania in November and am now taking mood stabilisers. This could or could not have been caused by the high dose of anti-depressants I've taken for so long. The diagnosis followed about 6 months of high moods and reckless behaviour, which started when I had a string of affairs. I had been approaching strangers and colleagues without a thought for how inappropriate or dangerous this was, and when my husband found out I felt no remorse, just annoyance.

I became argumentative and loud and was cautioned at work for swearing, but when my family said I’d changed, I argued that this was the 'real me' and that the 'me' they'd known before was one dampened by anxiety and the dread of depression. I felt little concern that I had hurt people or that others found me noisy or overbearing. Overall I felt I was right and people should listen to me or just accept me as I was.

I had no idea that any of this was abnormal and – when my husband made me go - was reluctant to accept what my usually trusted psychiatrist told me. I'm now beginning to understand that these behaviours and beliefs were out of character, rather than a fundamental part of my self.

I'm writing this blog as I thought it might help and that others may recognise aspects of their own experience in it. I have no idea where this journey is going to take me next, but I hope it is somewhere more predictable and less threatening to me and those around me.