This is the second in my series of articles on depression — my depression. They are written from a very personal perspective; they are my views of how I see things working and what it feels like on the inside. Your views and experiences may be vastly different. My views and experiences are not necessarily backed by scientific evidence or current medical opinion. These articles are not medical advice or treatment pathways. If you think you have a problem then you should talk to your primary care physician.
I was first diagnosed with depression back around 1980 — certainly some time in the two years after Noreen and I married. I have been on and off antidepressants ever since. And over the years I’ve tried just about every possible approach to managing the depression: drugs; psychiatry; counselling; CBT; giving in and curling up under the duvet.
Talking therapies don’t work on me and they never have; I know (and have likely tried) everything they try to suggest and I know already it doesn’t work. Such is the curse of being intelligent, questioning and experimental. The last thing I need is for some therapist to give me something more to do.
For the last couple of years I’ve been having monthly-ish hypnotherapy sessions and even this has not yet been very productive, although I remain hopeful; it feels closer to a solution than many previous attempts.
Looking back I have probably been depressed at least since my teenage years, maybe earlier, although no-one, including me, realised. It may all be tied up with being shy; a loner; and not having many friends.
The first real trigger I can remember was at the start of my second year at university (so over 40 years ago) when my girlfriend of over 2 years and I broke up (at her instigation).** This, piled on top of other circumstances, left me paralysed with depression for several months; I’m very lucky I didn’t totally screw my chances of getting a degree. Of course being male, and young, and not really knowing what was happening, I never got medical help but just tried to struggle on.
Since then, although I have had bouts of more serious depression, above the background level, I am not conscious of any particular thing which has been a trigger. I’m lucky in that I have never been seriously suicidal or into self-harm; that’s something I’ve not had to cope with. Nor do I have bipolar disorder: I never have the highs.
But one general trigger does seem to be a high level of change and overload. Too much to do and/or too much change. This happened when I was at work; everything occasionally got on top of me and I had to take a duvet day. This did my career and reputation no favours, and I was well aware of it. This is also why I never pushed to get higher up the ladder than I did; I knew I didn’t want the aggravation that went with it, much as I would have liked the recognition. It is also why I ended up retiring early, because I could not have done another year of the “project from hell” I was working on.
And this overload/change effect still happens, because I still keep doing things. I cannot not be involved. If I didn’t get involved I fear I would quickly vegetate. As someone expressed it to me the other day: “if I sat at home all day I’d go senile”.
But sometimes everything gets too much. I try not to let it get in the way of things I have committed to do for other people – just as I tried to avoid it affecting my professional life. But that means all too often the fallout descends on my personal life. Hobbies get neglected; and far too often I end up ducking out of something we’ve booked to do. However much I need to find that space, I always feel bad about it because it always affects at least Noreen as well. I’ve got to the stage where the only real way to mitigate this is to book as little in advance as I can. And that in itself is demoralising and depressing.
I’m very lucky in that Noreen does her best to understand this and ride with it, even if she cannot really understand from the outside what the depression is actually like on the inside. Understandably she feels helpless to do anything to alleviate my suffering. I’m continually surprised, and hugely grateful, that Noreen is as understanding and patient as she is. She does a lot to help: doing bits and pieces for me; mopping up after me; quietly, behind the scenes, helping me achieve a lot of the things I get involved in. And she stops me getting involved in too much! I don’t think she realises just how much difference she makes and just how grateful I am. In this I am truly lucky; it is probably the one thing which really keeps me going.
To be continued …
** I’m not going to write in detail about this because although 95%+ of it would be about me there would be things about other people from whom I cannot get consent and who, should they happen to read this, may not wish to be reminded of what happened.
Love XXXXXXXXXXX etc. You know…
I’m so sorry for you, it’s so much worse having nothing tangible to show for your pain. If someone developed type 1 diabetes or ulcerative colitis for example, we’d accept that the organs of the pancreas and colon aren’t working properly and that the problem would have to be managed for the rest of their life, and yet we find it much more difficult to accept the brain as an organ that has malfunctioned in the same way and believe that we should be able to cure the problem. My daughter, now 37, was diagnosed with depression in her early 20s and was told by her GP that she would likely be on anti-depressants for the rest of her life – disheartening, but, like you, her Dad suffered with it, as did his Dad. Perhaps we under-rate the genetic significance. Good luck with managing it.
Joan … Thanks for the comment and your kind thoughts. Yes, the way people, not specifically doctors, treat depression (indeed all mental illness) would be completely unacceptable for physical illness. I came across this cartoon recently which sums it up: . I know there is more to my depression than the genetic component and I feel sure if I could fix the rest then the genetic element would be manageable, even if that does mean continual antidepressants. So I try not to be disheartened, although I do find having depression is somewhat recursive in that it makes one more depressed. Maybe one shouldn’t think about it so much! Anyway, thanks for your kind thoughts and here’s hoping your daughter can successfully manage her depression too.