Living with Mental Health | Depression and Faith

When I first got diagnosed with depression, I was incredibly angry at God. I felt that he should have prevented the situation which was one of the main causes of it. I couldn't understand how a God of love, could allow the suffering I went through. Now I'm out through the other side  I still don't understand but I know God has taught me lessons that I couldn't have learnt any other way, and I will talk about those lessons in another blog. Because what I want to talk about now is how my faith got me through.

Like I said, when I used to be very angry at God, but now I'm not. Even in the darkest of times, I kept going to Church. In fact, at my lowest points, I used to scream out to God blaming him for everything I was going through. Because, in my eyes, he was to blame. I started to read the Psalms (for those of you who don't know what they are, they are songs mainly written by David (the David who defeated Goliath). They are songs of pain and suffering, but also songs of conviction and statements of truth about God. At they helped me to feel justified about my anger and pain. I felt as a Christian I couldn't have pain and anger at God, at yet these songs that were included in the Bible had them. And my favourite thing about them was that they would often start in anger, but come round to the truths that, I as a Christian, believe about God.

I also found my faith to be strongest in the darkest times, I couldn't depend on myself and it was only through reaching out to God each day for help, even just to get out of bed, I managed to keep going. God also provided me with the most important things I needed to keep going. He provided me with amazing housemates that didn't bring up my depression, and yet were also there whenever I needed them. He provided me with friends on my course, that helped me hand in my work on time and made me laugh and keep enjoying Chemistry. But most importantly, God provided me with loads of different people in Church that kept me going, supporting me with all my problems an doubts, and loving me even when I ended each service in floods of tears.

I've found these past 18 months tough, but I know that I could have not managed to get through without my faith. It has been the rock that I have been able to cling to when everything else has seemed to be sinking sand. I'm not saying that I've not had doubts, because I have, I have doubted God's existence and his love for me, but at the end of the day, it's been what I'm holding onto.

"He lifted me out of the slimy pit,

out of the mud and mire,

he set my feet upon a rock,

and gave me a firm place to stand."

Psalm 40:2

Living with Mental Health | Depression and Friendship

I was diagnosed with depression in October of last year. In reality, it had most likely been going on for most of my teenage years but the summer after my first year of university was where things got bad enough that I couldn’t cope. My friends quite literally ordered me to go to the doctors – with one memorable threat that I’d be picked up and dragged there if I kept putting it off – as the changes in me managed to destroy my relationship with my then-boyfriend and were clearly visible to the people around me. In fact, that’s what this testimonial is about, really: my friends. Yes, anti-depressants and visits to the Open Door team helped me, but my friends have been the driving force behind my recovery so far.    There was one piece of advice I received shortly after diagnosis that has helped me more than anything: don’t let it be a secret. So many people see mental health issues as taboo, and keep them quiet, but if the people closest to don’t know what you’re dealing with, they can’t help you when you need them or cut you some slack when you’re at your worst.

Last year I was, to be perfectly blunt, a fairly rubbish friend. I missed birthdays and skipped meet-ups, and when I did show up, I spent most of the time sat in a corner feeling awful or trying to pretend everything was ok when I wanted to be back in bed ignoring the world. I was much the same with lectures – attending a 9.15 was a rarity, and workshops and tutorials pretty much ceased to even exist to me. But despite all this, my friends never once refused me notes to copy up or help with work and the invites to events kept coming. I honestly expected them to turn their backs on me, not through malice but just because being friends with me must have been akin to being friends with a brick wall or a goldfish.

I will forever be indebted to my best friend and housemate, who managed to curb the worst of my thoroughly self-destructive habits. I never self-harmed, but my sleep and eating habits became more messed up than I thought possible: some days I ate near-constantly, as if I was hoping to counter the deep, gnawing pain I felt with copious amounts of food. Other days, I would look at the clock and realize it was nine or ten o’clock at night, I hadn’t eaten a thing all day and I wasn’t hungry in the slightest. She kept me from eating only chocolate, reminded me – and occasionally outright ordered me – to eat something, and is probably the main reason I didn’t end up with severe nutritional issues, as I sometimes went days without wanting to eat. She also offered an ear, a shoulder and a hug whenever I needed it, and let me ramble on about what was going on inside my messed up little head without judging.

There are a few more people (who will probably know exactly who they are, if they happen to read this) who I will probably never be able to repay for their friendship. I have one friend who was pretty much the only person to get real smile out of me. Another who must have given me a few hundred hugs in the past two years. Yet another who would tell me outright if I wasn’t telling them the things they could actually help with and then give me solutions to the problems he could. These and others are the people who have kept me going, and the people that I could not have gotten through the last two years without.

To anyone reading this who is suffering: tell your friends. Don’t beat around the bush and hope they guess. Sit them down, and tell them you’ve been diagnosed with depression and exactly what that means. Let them know that if you don’t see them as much it’s not because you don’t want to, it’s because you can’t face the world today.

To my friends, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I’m getting better now, but even if and when I’m fully recovered, I will NEVER stop owing you.

Anonymous

Living with Mental Health | Family, Friends and Depression

I think my experience of the way illness can affect your life started when I was thirteen. My mum got physically ill, and I started to feel increasingly alienated from her. I often felt that I was at fault in situations that, in reality, were outside of my control. Looking back, I understand that she was frightened and having to deal with a lot herself, but at the time it was very difficult to see that. Nevertheless, my relationship with my Dad was strong and, apart from the usual day to day stresses of being a teenager, things were generally fine.

But aged about sixteen my relationship with my dad started to deteriorate too. Sometimes I would make a comment or snap at him a little when things were tough. Things he would previously have tolerated, at worst. But instead of tolerating them he would ignore me, perhaps for a few hours, perhaps for longer, even when, at times, I would stubbornly continue to talk at him. He never shouted, just sort of withdrew instead. Again, it made me feel that I must be doing something wrong to deserve that sort of treatment: that I was a terrible person and an even worse daughter.

I'd always worked hard at school, but I became even more determined: determined to prove my worth to myself, my teachers and above all my parents. Exam results and making my parents proud became my God. But exam result after exam result failed to change the situation. I knew deep down that my parents loved me, but this only made me feel worse: here they were, feeding me, clothing me, and yes, loving me, and all I could do was make them angry, disappointed, cold and withdrawn. I was hurt and frustrated but I was sure I was at fault and didn't want to cause my parents any more anger and upset. Instead I often turned my anger inwards. I was filled with self-loathing, desperation and despair, and self harmed regularly.

I didn't tell anyone about it at the time, what reason would I have to do that? I was a disappointment, I was the one at fault and the only person that I could take out my pent up frustration on (and the only person I thought deserved to be hurt) was myself. It was simply my own logical decision. I didn't want anyone else to know, especially not my parents, who I thought would just be even more hurt and disappointed by my selfish attitude.The stigma attached to and lack of understanding that many people have for self harm can make it seem impossible to talk about. The thought of it often still fills me with tongue tying, heart racing panic. But I am blessed with close friends and over the past few years, with their help I've been coming to terms with this part of my life, gaining more of an understanding of why I acted in that way. I still self harm sometimes, but more often than not I don't.

This week is about Mental Health Awareness. I am yet to discuss my experience with a doctor. I feel safe talking to my good friends and I know that although they don't always understand, they still love and accept me; and they've been helping me to love and accept who I am too. My relationship with my parents is much improved and we're all healing in our different ways. So I'm not sure I'm really talking about me anymore.

Instead, where did this start? I think it started with the social stigma of depression. We just don't talk about it, do we? It's something bad, something that weak-minded, self-centred people (or perhaps usually strong people who are just going through an awful situation at the moment) suffer from, isn't it? Why don't they just get a grip, man up and muddle on with that oh-so-British stiff upper lip like the rest of us? But depression isn't like that; it isn't just about being a bit sad sometimes. Depression is an illness, just like anything you could suffer from physically. It's time we accept that. If society were more accepting, if people felt able to talk to each other, rather than hiding behind their forced smiles, then people like my dad might be able to speak up sooner.

For people who have friends or family suffering from mental health issues such as depression, I pray that they have shared what they're going through with you. I hope you understand that they don't hate you, they aren't ignoring you, but that sometimes that is the only way they feel able to deal with how they're feeling, particularly if they don't want to hurt you by shouting. It also really isn't your fault, no really, it isn't, just as it isn't their fault. After all, nobody is to blame when they are diagnosed with breast cancer, likewise with depression! So simply, I urge everyone who is reading this, whatever you're going through, to set aside your mask: be more open and willing to talk with people, laugh and cry with them and seek to truly understand what they are experiencing. No-one should feel like they have to suffer in silence. It's time to break free from the shame of depression and the damage that shame can cause.

God be with you,

Anonymous

Living with Mental Health | Depression and Perfection

I suffered from depression at high school. This was something that took a lot of time to overcome. There are many things I learned which have helped me overcome depression. In this post I want to focus on just one, which is sometimes an issue for me to this day. I have always been a perfectionist, and I really believe that to do a good job, I should focus on past mistakes. Since I have always considered this to be one of my better qualities, at high school it never occurred to me to question whether this was contributing to my depression. However, I have since realised that there is a right and a wrong way to go about learning from mistakes. And there is a fine line between learning from mistakes, and dwelling on them.

For example, if I said something stupid when talking to a group of people I didn’t know very well, I would tend to not only feel embarrassed at the time, but remember the incident long afterwards. Of course, everyone has some monumentally bad moments in their lives that they will always remember. But at some point I realised that I was keeping a mental list of small bad moments to - and I remembered bad moments much more clearly than good ones. This was because I felt I had to keep going over my mistakes in order to avoid making them again. I think this is where I crossed the line from learning from bad experiences to not being able to let them go.

For example, during my last exam period, when I was incredibly tired and stressed, I left my laptop at a bus stop. Luckily, someone handed it in to security and I was able to recover it. When I went to pick it up, the person behind the desk seemed to think I was a complete idiot (probably not an unfair assessment given the circumstance). The lesson was pretty obvious – if I’m tired and stressed, I’m more likely to be forgetful, so I should just carry it in my bag. But I kept dwelling on the fact that the person behind the desk thought I was an idiot. Feeling bad about this, I started reviewing my mental list of everything I had ever done wrong, and felt worse and worse. After a while I realised what I was doing. With some effort, I put aside the bad memories, and tried to focus on something else (a hot chocolate and an episode of How I Met Your Mother always seems to do the trick!). I haven’t left anything at a bus stop (or anywhere else!) since, but I also haven’t brought up the bad memory. Of course, this gets harder the worse the experience, but I remember a time when a small incident like this would have made me feel miserable for weeks. For me at least, the main barrier was realising that it is ok to let go, and that doing so won’t lead to repeating the same mistakes – just because I don’t feel the need to regularly revisit the bad memory, doesn’t mean I won’t remember the lesson.

Anonymous 

Living with Mental Health | Borderline Personality Disorder

A friend asked me to write about my experiences with mental health recently. 

This is my attempt to describe how it feels to have emotionally unstable personality disorder, or borderline personality disorder.

The symptoms I experience include: extremes of emotion that are hard to control; impulsive behaviour; desperation for the good opinions of people I care about; black and white thinking, things being either entirely good or entirely bad; and self-destructive coping mechanisms. If my tendency towards chaos comes through my writing style, I apologise, organising my thoughts is tricky at the best of times.

My life is filled with a near constant barrage of intense emotion. Every day is filled with panic, fear, elation, terror, rage, depression and joy. Sometimes I am so sad that my chest seizes up and I feel that I would do anything to make the physical and psychic pain go away. Sometimes anxiety will make me feel like I am going to be sick. Recently, I watched something that made me cry so hard that I vomited. On a night out, I flipped between joy and despair. In the space of an hour I had danced to my favourite song, cut myself in the ladies’ loo, got asked out by someone and was incredibly flattered and euphoric, then went out into the street to cut at my arm until my sleeve was soaked with blood, then came back inside and danced like a wild thing, happy again. It was the best and worst night of my life.

At other times I don’t feel like a human, I feel dead inside and a crushing emptiness that threatens to devour me. Sometimes I feel like everything is unreal and that I don’t really exist. The first time it happened to me, I was convinced someone had drugged me, and I was trying to panic whilst being unable to experience emotion. During my January exams, I was so stressed that I felt like I was floating outside of myself, unable to return to my body.

I don’t have fixed idea of identity, of what my character is. I sometimes feel as if I have too many characteristics – some of which are conflicting. I’m something of a chameleon by necessity; I adapt and edit my own personality in order to fit in with a particular group of people. I feel I’m always hiding pieces of myself away from them.

My inability to regulate my emotional state makes it difficult to carry out normal tasks. At the moment, a good day for me is one where I’ve managed to eat three meals and then perhaps done the washing up or laundry. A bad day will be one where I sit in my bed, tying nooses and self-harming, convinced that nothing will ever be good again.

Conversely, the times that I spend with my friends and family and people I care strongly about will put me in the best of moods. I feel an intense love for my friends that I know other people are unlikely to experience and it makes me hyper, excited, enthusiastic to see them, like it’s Christmas morning every time.

The more I learn about my disordered thinking, the more I see how it affects every aspect of my life. There is no ‘cure’ for this, only non-destructive coping mechanisms and talking therapies. There is hope though, it’s hard to remember at times, but I’m still alive. As long as I decide that the answer to the question of whether “it is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all”, is still that the highs of love are worth the lows, I have the strength to continue. 

Anonymous

Living with Mental Health | Depression

I became depressed in late 2011, when my family moved back to the country of my heart. But my gran says my voice hadn’t been right since mid 2008 when we moved back to the country of my birth. My voice came right again on the 25^th July 2012.

I never knew how much I relied on my family, and I never would have believed that the place you live could have such an effect on your mental state. I would have always told you that friends were important, but I would never have thought I could have neglected my friends so much.

My experience with depression… I thought I was ok, I was in denial for the best part of 6 months. But I cut myself off from the rest of the world. I obsessed over course work, it made it look like I was a model student, despite my less than perfect attendance at lectures. While inside everything was coming apart. I was self harming, I pulled my hair out and punched myself. I over analysed everything and worried constantly about my family who were living so very far away. I ate, far too much, and exercised far too little. I was very lucky for most of the time to have a gorgeous, loving boyfriend. But, sadly, about a year ago, he broke up with me. And my depression was cited as a reason for the break up. I was cut to the core. And I spent a terrible 3 hours alone, but surrounded by people on public transport. I don’t want you to judge him though. He also has his own cross to bear. He was there with me through my darkest hours. You may say if he truly was there for me he wouldn’t have dumped me. But I am grateful for the times when he held me up and enabled me to get through the day. It was after he dumped me that I started to scratch myself. My wrists and my ankles, my wrists because they were accessible, and annoy me anyway because of an old injury to them. My ankles, because I could hide what I was doing. It was my coping mechanism. I was, then, punishing myself for not being good enough to cope without my family, and for not being good enough for the man I loved.

I made the best decision possible, I started counselling, it took me several months after I had been diagnosed and started the meds (because despite the diagnosis, I didn’t want anything to be wrong with me, I really REALLY wanted to be ok). It helped me to see that I had managed to distort the world around me, which getting less than an A was ok, sure the injuries to my wrists suck, but at least I can still use them for every day life! I did cope without my family, and I was strong enough to try and protect them, succeeding for a very long time. And I was good enough for him, but things just didn’t work out.

The next big decision I made was to move back to the country of my heart and live near my family again. That was when my gran told me my voice belonged to me again.

And I’m back with my family, back in the country of my heart. Once I made the decision it took me a month. And the university I transferred to was only too happy to gain me as a student (not that I would blow my own trumpet, but I am a good student). I feel like my life has started again because I’m enjoying it. I have friends who I talk to almost every day when they can stand it, because I often act a little crazy.

Looking back, one thing really stands out, and that is the support I was given by my friends and family once I owned that I had a problem. The way, despite walling myself up, they welcomed me back and looked after me.

This week I had my last check up for a recent episode of anxiety, and I am very glad to say that I’ve been given a clean bill of mental health for the time being (and a flu jab, ouch!). I can see how far I have come, in just 12 months, despite my last little hiccup. I have lost 20 of the 28 kilos I put on due to comfort eating. My cooking skills have also excelled ;).  When I’m very stressed I have to admit that my fingers to immediately go to my hair, but I have some good friends who look out for me and will take me for a cup of tea if they notice I’m not coping too well (like if my experiments are going very pear shaped). I’m a lot happier, and my life sometimes surprising me at how interesting it ends up being. I’ve found gardening and sewing rather relaxing, and found that the small achievements I made in both have helped when I’ve been having a bad day.

Today its 2013 and I am a happy, strong, beautiful young woman. And I am helping someone else, a friend of my brothers, cope with her depression. What others think of me doesn’t matter because I am unique, a little bit mad maybe, but I’ve found people who appreciate and accept me. I wouldn’t be where I am today without the support of some lovely friends, most of whom are a long haul flight away, but another who now only lives 20 minutes up the road, between me and university. She means the world to me, and I can never repay the debt I owe. Nor can I repay the debt to my other friends who loved me when I was entirely un-loveable. I’ve also created a strong support network with the new friends I have found.

If you know someone with a mental health problem all I can say is keep loving them. If their hurts were visible, they would probably be swaddled in bandages, they might be in hospital, but they are defying the odds. If you do have a mental health problem, remember what a beautiful person you are (inside as well as out). Tell someone if you are having a bad day, because they care and will want to help. And if you feel like staying in bed all day doing nothing, go ahead and do it! But the next day you need to get yourself up, I know its really hard. Celebrate every little achievement. There was a time when just getting up was an achievement for me. It was an achievement when I first managed to sleep all the way through the night for 8 hours. I spoilt myself with a new hair cut when I realised my hair was growing back out. And every time I find a new dress that fits, I dress myself up and believe the compliments people give me (which are a lot now I listen to them). Don’t forget that there are free call support numbers if you need someone to talk to but feel a friend or family member isn’t the right person. Anything you say is confidential. I know some people who volunteer for these services and I’ve used them. They are some of the most open minded, comforting people to talk to.

Remember: ‘We are all a little broken, and that’s ok’.

Also, did you know, blind people smile, despite never having seen one, it’s a natural human reaction. Its time for me to sign off though, my uni assignments are calling me... Thanks for reading this, I hope it has inspired you that you can get through and to help anyone you think may be struggling, sometimes a smile is all it takes. 

Anonymous

Living with Mental Health | Depression and the Dark Place

I was diagnosed with depression in November 2011, although looking back I think I had it a lot longer than I realised, but undoubtedly over the summer of 2011 my mental health drop significantly.

Prior to suffering with depression I thought self-harm was silly, I couldn’t understand why anyone ever would. But, now I know. When I was in a dark place, I felt consumed with pain I couldn’t express. My body would shake with tears, but they wouldn’t express the sorrow I felt within. But the physical pain, of feeling something, did. And so, I discovered, like so many others, an instant release of the hurt I felt within. Unfortunately, when I come to my sense, I feel ashamed of my weakness, my desire to hurt myself, and the spiral of pain drag me back down to a place where it was acceptable to damage myself.

When I became brave enough to talk about my feelings, and how dark, the dark place truly was, my friends would say that I could always ring them when I felt like that. And whilst I was grateful for their offer, when the dark times return I couldn’t bring myself to get in contact with them. I felt so ashamed, so weak, so unworthy of their love.

Only a few weeks ago I hit a dark place, and first time I called out for help. It was terrifying, and yet as my friend replied to my text, I felt calmer, I felt loved and slowly I felt at peace again. I didn’t self-harm. For me, it was a massive victory, not only had I conquered my fear of rejection that no one would answer my call for help, I’d also had a triumph against self-harm.

For friends of people who suffer from depression, I want this to encourage you. Don’t give up on us. I know what it is like to stand on the sidelines and watch people battle with depression. It sucks, but I also know that we’re incredibly grateful that you are standing there. Because when we feel strong enough to reach out for help, you’re already there offering a hand. To help me with my depression, I’ve taken anti-depressants, I had counselling but the best treatment I’ve had is friendship. With my friends I laugh, I cry, I talk about what hurts, I talk about the lies I believe, and my friends listen, they tell me things I ignore about myself but most importantly they let me be who I am. Together we live a life worth living; together we make memories worth keeping. 

Anonymous

Living with the D word

Depression: it's a social taboo. 

Nobody talks about it, nobody admits to having it.

Why?

Because it's the unknown, people who suffer from it often feel 'adnormal' 'weak' and 'hopeless' and so often wear a mask to hid there true feelings from the world, meaning people don't realise something is wrong. Unlike with a physical illness, where there are physical signs of an illness - mental illnesses have fewer physical signs. And lets be honest, we've all suffered from off days. We've all had days when we have felt 'depressed' but do we really know what depression is?

The 13th-17th May 2013 is Mental Health Awareness Week, whilst the theme of the week is physical health and exercise, I've asked people to write a short piece on there first hand experiences of depression, this maybe through suffering themselves or from supporting a friend. The aim of this blog is to help people understand where friends maybe coming from, to help support people with depression - to help them see they are not alone, other people have been where they've been, because a problem with depression is it makes you feel so isolated. Makes you feel so alone.

Why? Because statistics suggest that depression is a lot more common then you'd think, so the likelihood is you know someone who has depression, and whilst they might tell you, it doesn't mean they aren't suffering.

The blogs you read are all anonymous, stories from people in all areas of my life, I've asked people who I thought were willing to share their story, but if you'd also like share something, it can be any length, feel free to message/email me (jesv@hotmail.co.uk.)

I hope this blog helps you, in various ways

God bless,

Jess

The posts:

• Depression and the Dark Place
• Depression
• Borderline Personality Disorder
• Depression and Perfection
• Friends, Family and Depression
• Depression and Friendship
• Depression and Faith

(Image taken from this website: http://www.actionondepression.org/campaigns)