Depression

Hey,

My name is Glenn I suffer from Bi-Polar. It is quite a surreal experience writing those words and seeing them on the screen. Just two little words "Bi-Polar" I mean if I said "Polar Bears" that would of been quite cool. Although I am not sure how one would suffer from "Polar Bear"

I'm just like every other 30 year old. I am married. I have a job. But I also have this demon inside of me. Never knowing when it is going to explode and try and fuck up my life again.

I am quite open talking about depression, but I detach myself from it when I am talking how it affects me. So I am going to give that a try.

My first serious bout of depression ensured that I spent a few days in the local Mental Hospital. Looking back it was such a surreal experience. I didn't really pay much attention to what depression was or how it affected people. I grew up around depression, not saying my childhood was this cloud of depression but that my Mum had it due to without doubt the most horrific childhood that you can't even imagine or would want to imagine. But that didn't stop her from being a wonderful Mum and staying strong through the tough times we went through as a family. People wouldn't really be able to tell what demons my Mum faced or is still facing. She is the glue that holds the family together. My Dad who was until recently in the RAF (happy retirement Dad!) has this strength of character that I wish I had. Whilst he may not show his emotions. He has picked not only myself up, but the whole family up in times of crisis. He never spoke about work (even though he was a highly ranked non commissioned officer) so we as a family can only imagine the responsibility he had. But he never put that burden on the family. So if my Mum is the glue, my Dad is the rock. So I had a good upbringing. Even though it involved lots of moving about, my parents couldn't of done anymore for me than they did and still continue to this day. Without their support and love over the last few years. Things would probably be a lot different for me.

Onto my wife Linda. I really have no words that can express or justify how I feel about her. Even though I have done things that really do not deserve her love. She has always been by my side. It can't be easy for her. To watch me spiraling into the black hole that is depression. Not only does she have to deal with me, but whatever problems she may have, she can't then share those with me as she doesn't want to burden me. I struggle sometimes to understand and accept how people can care about me and love me. That is what depression does to you. It takes any joy and happiness you may have and just shits all over it. It is just like a constant nightmare that is on repeat. So to my wife Linda. All I can say is thank you. Words cannot justify how your strength and love has pulled me through some of my darkest days.

Anyway getting back on track to today. At the moment I am typing these words I am tired. Not your normal "I haven't had enough sleep" I am tired of knowing that at any point I have this ticking timebomb in my head that could go off and I am back in that dark place.

But yeah I have been okay for the last year. I had fallen into a nice groove. I was a changed person. I was very much more laid back and more attentive and appreciative of what I had. Then a few months ago, I just started to feel really tired. I was constantly falling asleep. So I thought it was due to the amount of medication I was on. So I went to the Dr's and after a year wait I finally had my referral to getting a mental health worker called Hannah who has been pretty fantastic so far. So we tried to tweak my medication but every time we did. I just had severe withdrawal symptoms. So you have to make a choice. Do I stay tired but with less chance of a relapse or do I start tweaking and there is a bigger risk of me falling into the pit of shitness.

Well anyway I had that choice taken out my hands, I know my warning signs now. The thing with the warning signs is that you are playing russian roulette. It is almost a catch 22 situation. You link the warning signs that YOU will then suffer a relapse when of course it is quite possible you won't. But depression doesn't give a fuck about that. It just keeps telling you over and over that it is coming back to get you. That this could be the day.

I knew I had to seek help as soon as possible when last Friday, when I had fallen asleep without taking my medication. Woke up at 4am in a state of panic and feeling like utter shit and took some diazepam to calm me the fuck down before I had to get up for work at 6am. But I couldn't do it. The bastard had won it's first little battle. I had to phone work to tell them I couldn't make it in (well at least that is what I thought I said) to be honest I was all over the place so I could of easily of said I had been run over by a magic carpet.

So that weekend all I could think about was that it had come back. It was coming back and it was going to fuck me over. I just wanted to give up, I do not have the energy in me to beat depression again. It is a huge mental fucking struggle. Not only for you, but those around you. You feel this sense of guilt and shame. You think to yourself that you can't put your loved ones through this again.

Luckily by chance I had an appointment that was booked a month ago to see a shrink with the aim of cutting down my medication. But it turned out to be a different appointment. It was me looking into the eyes of the Dr and begging for his help. Telling him that I can't be dragged down again. That my life can't consist of feeling okay then periods of fucking shite.

The Dr swore. I liked the fact he swore. He apologised that in his eyes I had been let down by the system. He explained that I had the crap version of bi-polar where instead of having highs and lows. I just have a level where I can function where I won't experience much joy or happiness but I will experience the fucking lows. The problem was that with my previous bouts of depression they just throw drugs at you. He said that is fine short term but clearly it is like trying to fix a broken leg with a plaster. It is no good throwing tablets at me if I am still going to feel like crap. They need to try and find the cause of what causes my low moods.

So the next few months are going to be tough. My medication is being changed left, right and centre. I am going to taking a new drug which hopefully will pick up my mood and keep it stable. The downside being that it is pretty lethal and I have to have blood tests and all sorts before I can take it. And of course taking any new medication you have side affects and throwing in the fact that they are making adjustments to the medication I am on now. It means I am going to have some very interesting days. I admit that during the session with the shrink that I cried. Not out of sadness but out of hope. Everything I had gone through previously he had a reasoning for. The fact my bouts of depression where getting shorter in length between each one and the fact that he told me that not only does he want to get me out the rut I am in now, but that for a better phrase he wants to try and help me to the extent that hopefully I won't experience another bout of depression.

He then insisted on meeting my wife who was patiently waiting in the car for me. He told her what was going to happen which I think my wife found reassuring.

There is still a massive stigma attached to mental illness and it is a bastard to treat. Like the shrink said yesterday if I had a physical condition that kept on flaring up they would find the cause of what was causing it. But with mental health it seems to be the case of just throwing tablets at people.

This needs to change, it is not the GP's fault. They do not have the knowledge to be able to offer the support I am getting and all they want to do is help. So they prescribe medication.

But there is hope, I am lucky enough to have great family support who will make sure that I keep my head above the water. I am lucky enough to be under the care of a Dr who knows what he is talking about and swears. I am lucky enough to have a mental health worker who although has to do the job with her hands tied behind her back makes herself available whenever I need her.

I feel no shame in admitting I suffer from depression. Why should I? If anybody judges me on having depression, they can literally fuck off. Nobody understands how the human brain so we will never understand depression fully. What we need is acceptance. There are people out there who are probably struggling with this burden and not sure what to do. They may even kill themselves. That can't happen in this day and age. How can be live in a country where we continue to let people kill themselves.

I will try and be updating this blog as much as I can. But I will fucking win. I will fucking smash the ball out the park. I will score that century. That hatrick. Depression can kill you or it can be the making of you. But I am going to fuck depression so fucking hard that I will leave depression crying in the corner like the little fucking bastard bitch it is.

I just want to end with a big thank you. To everyone who has said kind words to me, who haven't judged me. To my family and friends. To my wife. My brother and sister. All the health workers and Dr's.

I want to get rid of the stigma of depression. It can go fuck itself. There is a light that never goes out. I will make sure that light always stays on.

If you have read this thanks for reading.

Glenn

(Bi-Polar and proud)