Behind the curtain

My experience with depression goes back to my earliest memories… two in particular. In one I wished I were my teddy bear because he was never sad. The other is on the floor in my bedroom begging God to kill me because I didn’t want to live any more. Depression has come and gone from my life ever since then. I am now in my early 40’s.

But no one knew the real torment going on in my head.

My episodes of depression and suicidal thoughts typically centre around difficult situations. They rarely have come out of the blue as I grew up. In high school it got particularly bad again. I made plans to kill myself but never followed through. I was unbelievably unpopular and the hurt from that was worse than I could ever explain. But no one knew the real torment going on in my head. Who would care, I thought.

The next time it surfaced badly was in college. I was just getting used to having friendships and living away from home. It was a terrific time of adjustment. I started with a school counsellor and graduated to seeing a psychologist and psychiatrist. I began taking Paxil which definitely helped my mood. I don’t think I cried for six months. It sounds great in theory, but was quite frustrating at times.

Depression has been more or less a constant companion to this day. There were short reprieves from it here and there, but it rarely completely left my mind. There was a half-hearted suicide attempt in my late 20’s. I again went for treatment, but that did not last for long.

I married my best friend and thought I was getting my happily ever after.

At 31 I thought my depression would all be in the past. I married my best friend and thought I was getting my happily ever after. Instead I was in a horrible marriage, 1,000 miles from home, in a place I hated. I suffered borderline emotional abuse almost from the beginning. I wanted out but was afraid to admit defeat and didn’t know where I’d go. We were married 11 years. In that time, we had one son who got cancer twice, we suffered multiple job losses, financial troubles, my husband’s addiction, and a home filled with anger. A year ago I decided I had to get my son out of the situation so I fled back home to live with my parents, file for divorce, and am working on filing for bankruptcy.

I currently suffer from depression, anxiety, ADD, and PTSD. Moving my life forward is a horrible challenge. I feel like a terrible mother, a failure as a human being, and truly wonder if life can ever get better; if I can ever experience happiness again. I’m currently on Zoloft which clearly isn’t doing the job. Most days the thought of killing myself at least crosses my mind once. My doctor said if I didn’t go get help immediately she’d have me go involuntarily with a court order. I’m in the process of getting the therapy started.

But for myself, I have no desire to go on most days.

I “should” be happy. I have a chance to recreate my life. My son is a survivor. We are both safe. But it’s just not there. I have a dear friend who insists on helping me even though I often feel like a lost cause. I’ve promised him and my mother that I will never try to kill myself. That can be a hard promise to keep. But I’m determined to, if for no other reason than my son would have to live with his dad who isn’t a proper parent. But for myself, I have no desire to go on most days. I hope that will change as I start talk therapy. I cannot rely on others to keep me alive. At some point I have to do it for myself.