So, with today being RUOK Day in Australia, let me tell you a story.
Not many people know this, but I've suffered from depression for more than 14 years.
I find it really hard to openly talk about my illness for fear of being looked at or treated differently, like I'm less capable, or a little unstable, or just looking for attention. I'm not.
If I had to describe depression I would say it is exhausting. For a long time every single day was like going into battle against myself. I would fight to get myself out of bed, to get dressed, to go to work, to be a mum. Some days it was just too much. I physically couldn’t get up so I’d call in sick, making up a ‘real’ illness to cover my shame of not being able to cope.
This went on, on and off, for years, and by the end I was so tired, I was also very bloody angry. Angry at myself (for not being normal) and at others (because everything seemed so easy for them) and I just didn’t want to do it any more. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been suicidal but I have been so god damn bone tired that I just wanted to step out of life and sleep forever.
Gradually, with the support of some amazing people, some drugs, and some therapy, I’ve learned to coexist with my depression. I’d love to say I’m completely ‘cured’, but I’m not. My depression is still there. I can often now go months without even really giving it a second thought but it is there, lurking quietly, waiting for me to let my guard down.
There are two times when I’m still really conscious of it - when I’m really sad, and when I’m really happy.
Sad times are probably a given - when people I care about die or are in pain, when my children are sad, when I watch Notebook (every frickin’ time!), when I’m pre-menstrual – I get sad, I cry, I feel shitty like anyone else would. The difference is, I also worry. I fear that my depression might latch onto my sadness when I’m not looking and drag me down into the black bottomless pit of misery where I have been before. And I worry that maybe this is the time that I don’t have the energy to climb back out.
When I’m really happy, when I feel joyous and light and so full of gratitude I could burst, I also worry. I fear that I’m so high, soaring so far above the ground that if my depression does find a way in it will bring things crashing down so fast and so hard that i’ll never recover from the impact.
Like I said, it’s exhausting.
Given the choice I wouldn’t have depression. And maybe that’s the point of this very long winded post. Mental illness is not a choice. It’s a shitty condition that can rob you of some of the most beautiful moments, and without the right support and treatment it can take your whole life.
Unfortunately you can’t always see depression because we become pretty damn good at hiding it and pretending it’s all good, so I ask everyone - even if you think you know the answer – to take the time to ask the question - RUOK?
Not many people know this, but I've suffered from depression for more than 14 years.
I find it really hard to openly talk about my illness for fear of being looked at or treated differently, like I'm less capable, or a little unstable, or just looking for attention. I'm not.
If I had to describe depression I would say it is exhausting. For a long time every single day was like going into battle against myself. I would fight to get myself out of bed, to get dressed, to go to work, to be a mum. Some days it was just too much. I physically couldn’t get up so I’d call in sick, making up a ‘real’ illness to cover my shame of not being able to cope.
This went on, on and off, for years, and by the end I was so tired, I was also very bloody angry. Angry at myself (for not being normal) and at others (because everything seemed so easy for them) and I just didn’t want to do it any more. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been suicidal but I have been so god damn bone tired that I just wanted to step out of life and sleep forever.
Gradually, with the support of some amazing people, some drugs, and some therapy, I’ve learned to coexist with my depression. I’d love to say I’m completely ‘cured’, but I’m not. My depression is still there. I can often now go months without even really giving it a second thought but it is there, lurking quietly, waiting for me to let my guard down.
There are two times when I’m still really conscious of it - when I’m really sad, and when I’m really happy.
Sad times are probably a given - when people I care about die or are in pain, when my children are sad, when I watch Notebook (every frickin’ time!), when I’m pre-menstrual – I get sad, I cry, I feel shitty like anyone else would. The difference is, I also worry. I fear that my depression might latch onto my sadness when I’m not looking and drag me down into the black bottomless pit of misery where I have been before. And I worry that maybe this is the time that I don’t have the energy to climb back out.
When I’m really happy, when I feel joyous and light and so full of gratitude I could burst, I also worry. I fear that I’m so high, soaring so far above the ground that if my depression does find a way in it will bring things crashing down so fast and so hard that i’ll never recover from the impact.
Like I said, it’s exhausting.
Given the choice I wouldn’t have depression. And maybe that’s the point of this very long winded post. Mental illness is not a choice. It’s a shitty condition that can rob you of some of the most beautiful moments, and without the right support and treatment it can take your whole life.
Unfortunately you can’t always see depression because we become pretty damn good at hiding it and pretending it’s all good, so I ask everyone - even if you think you know the answer – to take the time to ask the question - RUOK?
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