No, I’m not gay. I guess this title is a little misleading and perhaps you are a little disappointed as the gossip isn’t quite as juicy as you were hoping for. The reality is that I have a mental illness. I’ve lived with depression/anxiety for the past 17 years. I’m one of those people who can’t “just snap out of it.”
For those of you who have never experienced depression as an illness, this is way more than just feeling down. Depression is debilitating. You can’t get out of bed, keep yourself from crying or move on. What’s worse is that you have no reason to feel depressed – which makes you spiral out of control in your mind beating yourself up for feeling this way.
When I first showed signs of depression at the age of 15, I thought it was because I was “fat.” If I only I could just lose weight and be skinny like all the other girls then I would feel better. So I did just that, I dropped the weight I didn’t really need to lose and guess what – nothing else in my life changed. It wasn’t magical like the pretty, skinny girls have it in the movies. This started my addiction to my drug of choice – food. Manipulation of food and exercise was an obsession of mine.
Back in 1995, depression wasn’t talked about. In fact, I had no idea such a thing existed. When I experienced it, I just thought I needed to try harder, think positive thoughts, maybe lose more weight, but certainly not take medication. I resisted the idea of medication for years. Even when going on it, I didn’t take it properly and I’ve always had the goal of getting off the meds. “Once I’m strong enough and have enough will power, surely I won’t need medication.”
Of course, medication was only part of the road to recovery. I’ve worked out a balance with diet and exercise (some days of course are better than others), and sought counselling. The medication I’m on is a very small dose of an antidepressant. Can I survive without it? Yes, I can cope, but every day is extremely difficult. Why would I want to live my life fighting off the demons of depression when I don’t have to?
What does the medication do? It doesn’t dope me up or shut down my emotions as I was initially afraid. It simply enables me to think more clearly. It slows down the pace of my spiraling thoughts so that I can breath. It stops me from reaching the lowest of the lows.
I’ve finally come to a place where I’ve accepted that this will be a lifelong struggle, and that’s okay. Everyone has their own shit. It’s what makes us human. For me, I will always have times when I feel really down and can’t get out of bed, but they are becoming less and less. Now I know when I need support and I have ways to get it. I’m no longer in a dark hole with no way to dig myself out. Whenever I do have a bad day, I know this too shall pass.
Recently, I had to visit the doctor to get a refill of my prescription in Sri Lanka. I was referred to a psychiatrist because here a GP can’t prescribe an antidepressant. Anti-psychotics and powerful sedatives are available in this country without a prescription, but you have to see a psychiatrist for a low-dose antidepressant? I shrugged off my confusion and looked at the positives. In Canada, I would have to wait a minimum of 9 months to see a specialist, here all I had to do was pay $30, text a message and voila, I had an appointment. Maybe this specialist could add some insight into my condition?
I arrived at the hospital only to wait 3 hours for my appointment. In fact, the doctor wasn’t even there for the first hour. When I finally got in, I explained my situation and asked for a renewal of the prescription I’ve had for the past 10 years. I even brought in my Canadian medical records. The doctor simply asked me if I was suicidal. When I replied no, the doctor asked if I really needed the medication. Thank goodness I’ve reached a place in my condition where I am confident enough to advocate for myself. I left 5 minutes later, prescription in hand and baffled. How would someone who was experiencing depression for the first time have felt when a respected doctor questioned their condition? It takes so much to finally reach out for help. I can’t stand the thought of people being turned away.
Sri Lanka really does have top medical care and their doctors need to have 2 years of training abroad. They have excellent training and knowledge, so why is the mental health care so far behind that some psychiatrists don’t really believe depression exists. It obviously goes much deeper than the training? Culturally the stigma is so entrenched. The situation in Canada is better, but we still have a long way to go.
This is why I’m writing this blog despite fear of the consequences. I’m terrified that writing this blog will make prospective employers think twice about hiring me, parents of students I teach wondering if I’m qualified, and other people thinking I’m just vying for attention. I’ve chosen to write about this because it is time to talk about mental illness just as candidly as we would talk about other ailments.
Trina
June 3, 2012 at 12:12 pm
Good for you, Trina!
As you might know from our letters in the past, I, too, have had my bouts of depression. I’ve taken various kinds of anti-depressants for various amounts of time. None have had much affect on my condition, except to make me physically ill. Talking helps, so that I did not feel alone.
I taught for 24 years and managed to do well enough by my students. I was interested in HOW they learned and how I could assist them in that process. Being depressed had nothing to do with them, so I could do my job quite well.
Find yourself some kind of support group and continue to talk about this. It won’t necessarily rid you of your depression, but will give you a new perspective on what depression is all about.
I also find that questioning my thoughts helps. Quite often I am speaking to myself (in my mind) about an assumption I’ve made about what someone has said or done. When I stop and consider whether or not the thought/assumption is true and what purpose it has in my life, things lighten up.
Be okay with yourself.
Love,
Auntie Nettonya
June 3, 2012 at 1:11 pm
Trina, I admire your courage.
Lieve
June 3, 2012 at 1:26 pm
Thanks for sharing this with us Trina. Having returned to the UK from Sri Lanka more aware of mental health issues, I am sorry to say that the situation is not so very different here. Keep well and thank you both for writing this blog as it brings back many memories!
Ali
June 3, 2012 at 9:44 pm
Trina! Thank you for posting!
June 3, 2012 at 9:56 pm
Having been on anti-depressant medication for well over two decades and trying to go off the medication at least three times, I’ve had just about every thought one could have about mental illness and medication. My conclusion is that my life’s too short and precious to spend it as a martyr in a dark hole when the medication helps to keep me out of the hole. I have yet to see a tombstone or a eulogy that reads – here lies a person who lived a miserable life but, hallelujah, he or she didn’t take any medication.
Love, Judy
June 17, 2012 at 10:43 pm
Hi Judy Humphries
June 4, 2012 at 1:44 am
I am very proud of you Trina
Love Uncle Rick
June 10, 2012 at 2:05 am
I have been there and know many people who have too. It takes a lot of courage to seek help and to be up front about it. I hope your posting encourages those who may be suffering in silence to get the help they need. Good for you!
June 10, 2012 at 10:03 am
Thank you everyone for your positive comments. Getting so much love and encouragement from friends and family makes talking openly about my struggles much easier. I truly hope it does make a difference for others who read it.
June 11, 2012 at 10:42 am
Thanks for sharing Trina- Very proud of you and very proud to call you my friend:) xo
June 14, 2012 at 11:08 am
YOU are AMAZING, Trina and I love ya! Cannot wait to see you soon, catch up and have a good visit. I couldn’t agree more with Sonia…..I too am very proud to call you my friend! xo
June 17, 2012 at 7:53 pm
I knew Judy Humphries since Grade 10. I was one her favorite student. I used to greet her every morning. Judy and I got to know one another. She wrote me some letters because she knew I was leaving her behind so I would be her friend.