WARNING: TRIGGER ALERT/ thoughts of suicide.
What a powerful word! What does it signify to you?
Here’s my story.
Earlier this year I went through a three long month depression. Shorter than most but the worst in a while.
My days were very hard to deal with. Showering and brushing my teeth was a chore!
Like most I had days of no productivity.
I have a good habit of talking to my husband, and telling him how I’m feeling each day. But one day in particular was harder than the others.
I did what I normally do each day, had coffee with my husband in the morning. Smoked a few cigarettes, and pet my dogs.
But, my head was feeling warm and tingling and I felt so depressed. I tried to shake it off, but wasn’t able to. Later that afternoon my husband took a nap. I couldn’t sleep if I tried, my depression was so bad. Which was unusual as depression makes me sleepy. I knew something was up!
I sat outside on the deck contemplating ending it all. I was scared that I had even thought of such a thing. After all, I have such a beautiful family, great dogs, and so much to live for.
Why oh why, would such terrible things enter my mind?
I went on-line to seek help. I couldn’t find anything more than sites basically telling me to “buck up, buttercup!” OMG, what was I going to do?
I smoked what seemed like a pack of cigarettes trying to pass this terrible feeling. Would I act on my depression, frankly in the state of mind i was in I needed help. I should have woken my husband up. But I didn’t.
You see, when I was 15 I actually tried to commit suicide. Luckily, I was unsuccessful!
But my attempt haunts me to this day. My depression hadn’t gotten this bad in several years. I talked myself down. I focused on the good, and read on-line stories on survival of major depression and tried coping that way to pass the time.
My husband woke from his nap and I was relieved! I told him I was having really bad depression, and we talked it out. He suggested I tell my psychiatrist on my next appointment.
I had an appointment with my psychiatrist that week, but failed to tell him I was so depressed I wanted to end it all. I just told him I had a really bad day. I was afraid he might send me away! Little did I know if I had told him I would have gotten more help, not be hospitalized as I was worried about.
Eventually, he would increased my dosage of Prozac from 20 mg to 30 mg to finally 40 mg.
That 40 mg finally did the trick. Mind you the average bipolar shouldn’t be on 40 mg of Prozac as it can throw you into mania. But that goes to show how bad my depression was. My doctor felt it better to medicate me rather than me harming myself.
I’ve been depression free for a month now, and grateful! I’m super glad I never followed through with my depressive thoughts. I implore you all, if your depression ever gets so bad you’re considering harming yourself, get help right away. Either talking to a trusted friend or family member, even talk to your psychiatrist or therapist. Or even contacting your local crisis center.
I know many of you have stories of depression, and I respect you telling your story. If you wish, voice how you survived your ordeal with depression in the comments. Or feel free to share to me directly via DM on twitter.