Living With Severe Clinical Depression

This is a post I have wanted to write for quite some time now. Not for myself, but to try and give others more of an insight and understanding into what I live with every single day of my life. I have until now, had no idea where to start, and so have always put it off. Now just feels like the right time for me to share with everyone what, to some extent, I don't even fully understand  myself.

Now I am more aware of my mental state on a day to day basis, I can understand that I have had some form of depression or mental illness since I was a lot younger than I originally thought. For a while I believed my mental illness came about when I was 19 years old, and was reliving an awful time of my childhood that I didn't wish to bring back to the surface. Now I can easily recognise that I was unwell from the age of approximately 16.

I have come to believe that nobody will truly understand a mental illness such as depression unless they have some experience of it themselves. Nobody 'gets it' until 'they get it'. This is because even though my close family members have done everything to understand what I am going through, how can I begin to explain, when I don't even know why I feel like this myself? People say they understand, but things people may say or do, just confirm they don't have a clue.

I have been diagnosed with severe clinical depression for the last 5 years now. I have periods of time where I feel I am above water, and manage to deal with life better, but I honestly feel most of the time I am drowning. I am NEVER okay. Which I know for many is more than difficult to understand. One of my friends has actually said to me 'you have a job and a nice car and are moving into your own place', 'you don't have any reason to be upset because you have a lot of good things in your life'. All of the above are materialistic things, and all things I have worked hard to get. Materialistic things ARE NOT what is important to me. I work hard to try and make my life the best it can be, but honestly, being well and alive is an achievement each day.

I first got extremely ill when I was 19. I was lucky enough to be working in a doctors surgery, so I had understanding people working around me. I was signed off work for 3 months. I know that if I had been employed somewhere else, I probably would have lost my job, or been replaced within a month or so.  This was one of the worst times of my life. I didn't want to be alive. I was put on anti-depressants which are used to lift your mood above the line of constant sadness. The problem is they take a little while to get into the system and start working to their full effect.

I self harmed. I didn't do it to relieve pain, contrary to many people's beliefs, I did it to have control. My emotions were out of control, and this is something I could control. It felt good, which again, I don't expect anyone to understand. I hid this for a while. My mum saw. I was taken back to the doctors, as she could see the seriousness of my mental health was worse than 'just feeling sad'. I had an assessment of my emotions and thoughts and was clear that I was severely depressed. My medication was increased.

All I wanted to do was sleep. It was like my body couldn't cope with the physicality of being alive, when my emotions were draining every bit of strength I had. Once asleep I was dead to the world. Nobody could wake me. This still happens on occasion. I lost all appetite and had zero interest in food. I wanted to die, so food was not important to me. I didn't even want to get washed or dressed. I had completely lost all interest in everything. I was watched closely by my mum and step-dad and they tried hard to make me positive.

Being on the maximum dose of the medication possible, I did see an improvement in my mood. Encouraged greatly by family members, I started to get back on track. I went back to the doctors every week so they could monitor my progress and soon felt well enough to try and go back to work for a few days a week.

The day before I returned I got my life saver. Without her, I promise I would not be here able to share this post with you today. My dog, my best friend, Flo. She is the only thing that gives me a slight bit of hope when I feel I have nothing left to live for. She is the only thing I want when I am at rock bottom. I look at her and just think, I couldn't leave you. Yes, she can be a pain in the arse, and a difficult dog at times, but I wouldn't change getting her for the world. She doesn't ask me questions when I don't want to talk. She doesn't judge me. She doesn't get angry with me. She doesn't need to understand me. She just loves me no matter what.

There are many things that will trigger bad spells and I have learned to recognised when I am going dramatically downhill and manage to catch it before I get really bad again. This unfortunately comes with experience.  5 years of living like this isn't easy, it is hell. Right now, I don't think I will ever be 'better'.

I've tried running away from everything. Just disappear. Nobody will even notice. I drove for miles and just sat in my car wishing there was an easy way out. Family were concerned. I didn't want to go back. Then my mum sent me this...

It crushed me. I realised how selfish I was being. Flo needed me and I needed her.

I have taken 20 of my tablets in desperation to feel better. Everyone can see how stupid that was, just like self harming. Most evenings driving home I think about driving my car into a tree. Then it could look like an accident and be less painful for my family to think I'd had an accident rather than killing myself.

I always distance myself from people. I like my own company. I'm quite happy living on my own. I don't feel the need to have loads of friends. I had a partner for 18 months, and I found this only made my mental state worse. I couldn't be sad without having reason. I couldn't be myself. I don't let people get close to me because nobody understands.

I don't really know how to end this post. I decided to write it, because at this moment in time, I don't want to be alive. I have come to my parents house for the weekend to try and feel more positive. I guess writing it out is making me see how far I have come...

The most worrying part of it all is many of my friends/family don't have a clue that I am unwell, unless I have chosen to share that with them. Depression is real. Real scary. It is not something that you can just snap out of.