My entire family (both parents; older sister and younger brother), excluding myself until last year, suffer seriously from depression. I was always aware that I too had a tendency towards depression but seemed to possess an innate ability to redirect my mind towards thoughts and/or activities which averted falling into a depressive state.
Even when a close mate died of a drug overdose after years where I was the only person who remained to support him through many attempts to get, and stay, 'clean'; even after his family denied him a funeral because they didn't want anyone to know he'd been a drug addict, I sought counselling and worked with families of addicts for years afterward by way of 'processing' all that happened.
But that changed just over 12 months ago when the brain damage I had so miraculously avoided when I 'died' of a pulmonary embolism on 31/10/2007 (I was clinically dead for 45 minutes apparently, then comatose for almost a month) was diagnosed as beginning to happen. Essentially, the diagnosis was that I would likely have all of the symptoms of Alzheimer's within 5-10 years; it's fair to say that I have always been proud of my intellect and strength of mind and the diagnosis struck directly at both. I couldn't divulge the diagnosis to my family and told only a couple of my closest friends. Not long after, the family learned that my father had been gambling once again. The combination hit me badly. I called in sick to work for the week that Sunday night as I could feel - for the first time in my life - a physical weight descend around me, crushing me. I know now it was my first - and only - episode with clinical depression; in a way, I knew it then.
Later that night (I have only admitted this to one person, a mate of 20 years + who had battled clinical depression for several years), I literally started trying to think if I should end it all.
The only thing which snapped me out of the downward spiral was my dog. After spending quite some time with him (saying 'goodbye' I suppose), Ned (very unusually) disobeyed my instruction to go outside and I went ballistic at him.
Ned was terrified, the first time he'd ever cowed in front of me. Having been an abused dog when I adopted him (in April 2007) who'd become confident to the point where few could imagine he'd been a scared, abused little dog when I adopted him, that cut me to the bone. It penetrated the 'fog' around my psyche; all I really immediately understood was that his last memory of me be frightening.
I spent the rest of that night just holding Ned, trying to make it up to him and sought help the next day.
But, had he not defied me and then responded with such obvious terror of me, I honestly don't know what would have stopped me doing something stupid that night. I have no idea what would have happened to be honest; intuitively, I believe I would have found something to cling on to. That, perhaps, is convenient revisionism; all I truly understand is that, for the first time in my life, I was literally careering out of control.
Now having experienced it, I am strong again. Work has been tortuous in recent months (they've actually tried to use my future disability against me) and, if I was as vulnerable now as I was then, the outcome of recent months may not have been pretty. But I'm not. I am strong again and no one other than myself can undermine me mentally again. My sister and several close friends have proved whom I can lean on when, and if, I need it.
Depression, anxiety, stress and other related issues
in The Jim Smith Room
Posted
My entire family (both parents; older sister and younger brother), excluding myself until last year, suffer seriously from depression. I was always aware that I too had a tendency towards depression but seemed to possess an innate ability to redirect my mind towards thoughts and/or activities which averted falling into a depressive state.
Even when a close mate died of a drug overdose after years where I was the only person who remained to support him through many attempts to get, and stay, 'clean'; even after his family denied him a funeral because they didn't want anyone to know he'd been a drug addict, I sought counselling and worked with families of addicts for years afterward by way of 'processing' all that happened.
But that changed just over 12 months ago when the brain damage I had so miraculously avoided when I 'died' of a pulmonary embolism on 31/10/2007 (I was clinically dead for 45 minutes apparently, then comatose for almost a month) was diagnosed as beginning to happen. Essentially, the diagnosis was that I would likely have all of the symptoms of Alzheimer's within 5-10 years; it's fair to say that I have always been proud of my intellect and strength of mind and the diagnosis struck directly at both. I couldn't divulge the diagnosis to my family and told only a couple of my closest friends. Not long after, the family learned that my father had been gambling once again. The combination hit me badly. I called in sick to work for the week that Sunday night as I could feel - for the first time in my life - a physical weight descend around me, crushing me. I know now it was my first - and only - episode with clinical depression; in a way, I knew it then.
Later that night (I have only admitted this to one person, a mate of 20 years + who had battled clinical depression for several years), I literally started trying to think if I should end it all.
The only thing which snapped me out of the downward spiral was my dog. After spending quite some time with him (saying 'goodbye' I suppose), Ned (very unusually) disobeyed my instruction to go outside and I went ballistic at him.
Ned was terrified, the first time he'd ever cowed in front of me. Having been an abused dog when I adopted him (in April 2007) who'd become confident to the point where few could imagine he'd been a scared, abused little dog when I adopted him, that cut me to the bone. It penetrated the 'fog' around my psyche; all I really immediately understood was that his last memory of me be frightening.
I spent the rest of that night just holding Ned, trying to make it up to him and sought help the next day.
But, had he not defied me and then responded with such obvious terror of me, I honestly don't know what would have stopped me doing something stupid that night. I have no idea what would have happened to be honest; intuitively, I believe I would have found something to cling on to. That, perhaps, is convenient revisionism; all I truly understand is that, for the first time in my life, I was literally careering out of control.
Now having experienced it, I am strong again. Work has been tortuous in recent months (they've actually tried to use my future disability against me) and, if I was as vulnerable now as I was then, the outcome of recent months may not have been pretty. But I'm not. I am strong again and no one other than myself can undermine me mentally again. My sister and several close friends have proved whom I can lean on when, and if, I need it.