I found a letter today that I wrote during my last bout of "double depression". This happened during the summer of 2011. I didn't understand what was happening. I had been taking Prozac for almost 4 years and didn't notice myself slowly slipping back into the moody, emotional state that I had left by taking Prozac. It was a gradual downward spiral, and it never occurred to me that something wasn't right. We were in the middle of a lot of changes and stress, and I've never been one to stop and evaluate how I'm feeling. Then all of a sudden BAM! I felt like complete shit. I was taking my pills every day, so it never occurred to me that it was my depression. I just felt like I couldn't deal with anything and had no idea what to do.
I had never seen a psychiatrist or counselor, because what would they do for me? I've never had any issues to cause my depression - it's just always been the way it is! But this was BAD. I had written a letter to my husband (it's the best way that I communicate) and evidently he felt like I was blaming him for how I was feeling for no good reason. I wasn't stating reality, just how I felt. Here was my second letter to explain my first letter:
"Imagine having someone walking by your side, 24 hours, 7 days a week, wherever you go, whatever you do, they're there. Imagine they are right up against your ear, constantly whispering the most negative things they could think of. Telling you you're worthless, ugly..." (quote from a great Twilight fanfic called Through His Eyes by it's-rpattz-baby)
My "depression" is no one's fault. However, I cannot let go of the feeling that it IS MY FAULT. How can it not be my fault that I can't control my thought and feelings? I grew up assuming that it was my fault, my behavior - that I'm just too emotional. If I were a stronger person I could control my thoughts, doubts, and sadness and "snap out of it". I can't. And that makes me feel worse. I start kicking myself when I'm down. I'm mentally curled up in a corner and want to make myself so small that I disappear. The feeling of absolute hopelessness surrounds me and squeezes me into a smaller and smaller ball. But I can't disappear. I cry out to God to help, but it's just black. Nothing. I just want to end the hopeless/helpless felling. My life means nothing.
I stepped up and tried to share where I'm at instead of hiding. I'm not good at talking. My brain stops, or my mouth refuses to work. I'm good at writing. I can write pages and pages of how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking, but ask me to speak at I shut down.
This is about ME. This is not about you, except in that I need you to understand how I feel! I felt 10x better this morning when I woke up. Then you made the 'rotten husband' comment and I feel like shit. I know you're a good guy. I know I have a good life and you take good care of me.
My "depression" is not your fault. But when I'm down on myself, the last thing I need to hear is that things could be worse and how good I've got it. What I DO need: Don't make fun of me. Don't assume blame. Don't ask me what's wrong, because I'll say "Nothing". Don't tell me I'm over-reacting. Give me time. Give me support. I love you.
So I went to a councelor through work. He literally saved my life. He was kind and explained that sometimes drugs lose their effect in cased like mine. He said that I may have to switch drugs several times throughout my life, but that it's okay. He reminded me of what I'm dealing with - what I've BEEN dealing with all my life. And I learned about "Double Depression". Depression is hard enough, but then it's like being kicked to death when you're already down. How fun.
It just amazes me how quick I went back to believing there was something wrong with me, that there was no other reason that I felt the way I did. To me, it was all my fault. I began to look back and realize that this wasn't the first time I'd been though a double-downer. I continually think about that councelor and how he helped me through that dark time, and thank God every day that I had the courage to ask for help.
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