I know it's eleven weeks because I counted it and was shocked at how little time has passed and how very different I feel. I hadn't methodically planned to kill myself or thought the plan through fully, but there was a vague plan that had been brewing and being modified in my mind for the weeks and months before hand.
It's funny how clear hindsight is. It's like not realising you would miss something until it's gone or not valuing freedom until you've been enslaved (figuratively or literally.) This is how I feel about clarity of thought after being banished to confusion and half truths for a time. I don't know quite how long I had depression for before I recognised it for what it was. I found a poem in my journal yesterday dated almost a YEAR ago. The date surprised me more than my own words:
She stops. Shocked by the reflection that catches her eye.
Slowly, deliberately, she touches the cheek of the woman before her.
She looks closer, deeper into her eyes.
She recognises that feeling.
Look away.
Keep going.
Don't stop to feel or wonder.
Get
To
The
End
Of
The
Day.
One day I'll sleep forever.
The fog of confusion that has plagued my mind for God-only-knows how long appears to have left. I don't know exactly when but I think now that there are only shadows of it left. Thankfully shadows are evidence of darkness leaving and light being allowed in. The shadows themselves are not the darkness I felt, but reminders of what was and where I no longer want to be.
I imagine surviving to the other side of depression is a different process for everyone, but I thought some of you might like to know what I did and perhaps it might help you or someone you love.
The first thing I did was recognise that another trusted person looking in on this situation might have better judgement than me at that lowest point. This particular someone came to my house and, with Jason's permission, took me away to stay at my Pastor's house for a few days. I honestly had no idea of the seriousness of my actions and ideas until many weeks later.
I rested. Painfully and forcefully I submitted myself to rest. I started a medication that caused me to sleep all through the night and then during those days away, I journaled and doodled and read. I met with people I trusted from my church and they encouraged me, prayed for me and gave me practical advice and guidance. They allowed me to sob out my feelings and confusion without judgement. I can't express the value of having people listen with love and empathy.
I was as honest as I could be with Jason and worked out some steps to take, for our relationship, for our family life and for our future together.
I truthfully told some of my girlfriends what was going on. You can't know what a relief it was, during the worst times, to have them tell me, "if you feel like you want to self harm, text me. I'll come right over." Something that stopped me trying to work out how to hurt myself without detection was one of them saying, "it won't matter what 'accidents' you find yourself having. I will suspect you did it on purpose." Tough love is still love.
I stopped blaming myself for things that were beyond my control. I took responsibility for things I was guilty of. I got help to decipher the difference. This wasn't comfortable - no one likes to be in the wrong. I tried (am trying) to right my wrongs.
The reason I waited so long to talk to someone was that I didn't believe I was depressed. I knew why I was feeling the way I was - and since no doctor or therapist can change my circumstances and because I didn't feel like I had words to explain what made the circumstances hard, I didn't ask them for help. I only went to the doctor after taking an online mental health test...(not recommended - the internet told me I had many mental health issues including bi-polar.) Dodgy diagnoses aside, I knew by answering some of these questions that something was wrong. My friend told me to get off the computer and see a doctor. So I did. Who knew "reactive depression" was a thing? I do now.
One other thing I did was stop taking the medication I was initially on. I found that after a few weeks, I was having extreme and regular panic attacks that I didn't previously have. I can't recommend coming off medication that your doctor has put you on. I can, however, recommend listening to your body, reading the leaflet that comes with the tablets and involving others in your decision to take them or not. In my case, Jason could see the day-to-day change in me and was more objective than me in identifying the behaviour I was exhibiting and feelings I was having pre-medication versus the time I was taking it. Your doctor should be able to advise you how and when to transition off medication.
There are other practical things I did and am doing to stay mentally healthy. I know now the circumstances that will invariably cause me to sink into despair again and so I try to avoid them if possible or when faced with them, try to work out a better plan of action (and plan of thought, where necessary) to keep things clear.
I exercise to burn off adrenaline and release endorphins.
I draw, paint or write - anything creative releases something in me and brings me contentment.
I pray and find peace and hope.
I worship and practice deep thankfulness to change my perspective.
I take time off to rest.
I date my husband to revive and keep moving forward.
I realise this is long. I'm not through yet, but it is getting better. It will for you too.
