Stop the Stigma

I see myself as a happy, easy-going person. I like to see the best in people, always giving them the benefit of the doubt. I love easily, I like to give to others and to help in any way I can, if my help is wanted, I do my best to be a good listener. I loved my nursing career, and though retired I still consider myself a nurse and want to help and care for others.

I don't think I'll ever be able to not want to help people. It just seems to be ingrained in me. Unfortunately, I'm sometimes not able to help myself, or at least not to the extent that would probably be the best.

When I was 12 years old, I remember standing in front of the living room mirror, looking at myself, crying, and asking myself questions for which there was no answer. What is wrong with me? Why don't I fit in? And then the next day I would be OK. And I never told anyone about this. But it happened several times a year for many years.

Did I have postpartum depression after the birth of my first child? I'm not sure. The story was a little bit different with her. My first child was born three months early, weighing only two pounds, four ounces. And yes, there was lots of stress at that time because we weren't sure if she would survive, I cried lots. I worried lots. And I spent hours, standing outside the nursery looking at my little girl in the incubator, not able to hold her.?Hoping and praying that she would survive. I was 17. And my husband was 20. We lived with his parents. We didn't have much money. But we were doing OK, except for the worry over our precious daughter. Any tears, sadness, or worry at that time were expected and accepted. I don’t recall any depression; it might have happened, or I might just have forgotten about it.

In 1969, after the birth of my second child. I became very sad at times. Not being sure of what to do. I would take the children out for walks in the sun. I would go to visit my mom (but never tell her I was sad and crying all the time, which would not have been acceptable). I would do my best to read stories to the kids, play games, and even watch a bit of tv with them. When I felt this way, I hated going out, I hated myself. I would do anything to not be by myself with the kids, to try and make myself happy so that I could look after them. There was no way I could leave them in their room to just cry. But sometimes I wanted to. I loved my children with all my heart and couldn’t imagine a life without them, they were and still are my life. It was only as the years went on that I was told that I had depression. What a stigma that was.

The number of times that I felt overwhelmingly sad, unwanted, not able to function, and unable to do what I wanted, I worried I was or would be unable to care properly for my children, unable to be a good wife, a good housekeeper, and unable to be accepted?by my immediate and extended family, were innumerable. Those times seemed to increase. In retrospect, I know I was loved. But I didn't feel that love. I felt like an outcast. I carried on. These bouts and feelings of being very, very low, crazy, and unaccepted carried on for years. My depression wasn’t situational, it was biological, I know that now. Heck, I’ve always had a pretty good life.

Things weren’t easy for my husband and me, but they were ok. Our life was pleasant. We weren’t rich, but we had a place to live, food on the table, and we had love.?We had what I considered a pretty good life except for these terrible, terrible periods of unexplainable sadness. A sadness so great that I couldn't explain it, a sadness so great that it took over my whole being, and it wouldn't go away, and I thought I was crazy and would get locked up if I told anyone. There were times I would think it would be better to not be here, but how could I leave my beautiful children? My depression was very difficult on my husband, and he didn’t really understand what I was going through. How could he? I didn’t understand. Eventually, I saw a doctor who reassured me that I was not crazy, and I was prescribed antidepressants. A pattern developed, on antidepressants, I would start to feel better. Off for a while and it would start all over again. Years passed before research studies showed that people were being taken off their antidepressants far too soon and having rebound depression. In the meantime, it was a vicious circle. I felt like I didn't belong. I couldn't do anything. No one loved me. I was worthless. After all, I hadn't even completed grade 12. I got pregnant and got married at 17. What kind of a life was that? What kind of life could I give my children?

My depression has been controlled now for many years. Yes, I go through periods of not doing so well, but with a bit of help, I can get through those periods without a lot of difficulties. I learned that antidepressants were going to be a part of my life. Not really what I wanted, but better than the alternative.

Years ago, when I was referred to a psychiatrist, I asked him “how long do I have to stay on my antidepressants?” he responded,” are they working?” “Yes, they are working”.?To which he replied, “Well then why would you want to go off them?” “I don’t like having to take antidepressants, there’s a stigma attached, and I gain weight.” He asked, “ if you had diabetes, would you want to go off your diabetic medication because it's working well?” “Of course not. That's just silly” to which he said, “well, guess what? It's the same thing. It would be silly to go off the medication that is helping to keep you feeling better.” I don't want to be zoned out and not notice the highs and lows of life. I want to be able to be sad, be happy. Get angry and upset because that's part of life.

I would still love to not have to take the meds, but I stay on them, on as low a dose as possible. Sometimes I have exacerbations of my depression and I go through periods of crying, and not being able to manage as well as I’d like. But once again, in the company of others, I'll smile, and no one will ever know. I am very fortunate that I never had to miss work because of my depression, but not everyone is that lucky.

How many of you go through a similar scenario; or know someone struggling with depression or other mental health issues? ?Consider reaching out, learning about their specific illness. Don’t abandon them. Isolation only increases the severity of depression.

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You can learn more about depression and mental health at:

https://cmha.ca/

https://www.healthline.com/health/mental-health/essential-oils-for-stress#takeaway

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