I can’t tell you what a privilege it is to be a counsellor and psychotherapist. But this blog is not about me. A client of mine wishes to share their experience of depression. I wont review it; I think their writing speaks for itself…
To the depths of despair, and back again
I cannot begin with the statement “it all started when” because I do not know when it all started. I cannot identify a moment where ‘it all started to go wrong’. I can however highlight moments; experiences that have contributed to a narrative. A narrative that both consciously and subconsciously shaped a large fragment of me. Of who I was. I cannot over emphasise the word was. As that is the most positive reflection of progression. A continuation of me. Which will always be the case. Health is a continuation. You continuously exercise and eat well to try and maintain physical well-being. The same should be said for mental well-being. There is no permanence. It is a journey of continuousness.
Struggling with anxiety has always being my biggest demon. It has dictated every facet of my life. The worst thing about my anxiety is how it manifested itself; how little I understood that it controlled a variation traits that I would not have assumed have any correlation otherwise. Anxiety led to compulsion, compulsion led to obsession and inevitably, depression followed. A cocktail of despair with little understanding of how or what I could do to manage my life, or pull myself out of these darkest of moments. Moments that were continuously exacerbated when life was anything other than mundane. The biggest challenge to overcome was that these difficulties had become the norm. So invariably when my life reached moments where continuity or normality rained, I was not able to deal with it. So the cycle reared its head once more. Anxiety, compulsive obsession, depression and self-destruction, with the latter being particularly prevalent in my relationships with friends, family and more prominently, relationships with a significant other.
The most distressing and debilitating symptom I have to deal with is compulsive obsession. This form of compulsion I have learnt to deal with is very much insular. Obsessive thoughts. The most debilitating, intrusive and difficult to control aspect of my mental health journey. These intrusions have driven me to breaking point. Why do I think this? Am I a monster? These questions along with the intrusive thoughts are a continuum that could last anything from a morning to weeks, months and sometimes even years. Just to make sure I wasn’t suffering enough. Another very destructive form of these intrusive thoughts manifested itself through the need for repetitive reassurance, especially from my significant others. This is what I like to think of as my other main challenge. The symptom that led to so many self-destructive and insecure tendencies, culminating in partners not being partners, but almost becoming carers. Relationships deteriorating into battles to ease my illness. The illness that allows for the flaring of insecurities. How little I thought of myself. I don’t deserve them – I do deserve to suffer. Why do I deserve to suffer? I could never answer that question – I didn’t need to. I just knew that I should suffer. I should continuously be unhappy. Unfulfilled. Insecure. Because? Just because.
Depression in my case seemed to be the cherry on top of the delicious ice-cream sundae of fuckery. Anxiety? Why not. Obsessive Compulsion? Go on then. Depression? Oh well I just can’t say no. Yum. Tasty. Fuck. Off. Depression seeped into due to my continuous despair. The despair that I had previously alluded to that was a causality of anxieties and obsessions. Depression was the affect. The consequence. Not that I want to detract any credibility from depression. Oh no. It still has its place in my life as a powerful and controlling entity that has almost gotten the better than me on two occasions. And you need not be a professor to understand what I meant by ‘it getting the better of me’. Two shining moments of despair so strong that there seemed no other avenue. A cul-de-sac in my life. Why did I choose to continue? I am not sure. I don’t think I could identify a specific reason. If I were to assign evidence, I would suggest it may have been a culmination of learned experiences that subconsciously told me that I could get through. As I had done with many other experiences throughout my life. I will survive. I will learn to cope. I will prosper. Because I have before.
My life leading to this point is and has been a journey. A series of choices. An education. I am continuously evolving and learning about me. This is what I identify as the most important aspect of learning. Because you have to learn. There is no other way to it. Just as you have learnt to walk, to laugh, to love – you have to learn to cope, and to evolve. I have found my own unique group of techniques; coping mechanisms. Ways that I can manage my symptoms better. So that I can prosper. I can learn to enjoy my life. To give myself a break. To learn to love the most important person in my life. Me. It has not been easy, and it will be a continuous journey. But. BUT. I can, will and have learnt. Learnt to cope. Learnt to manage and learnt that I can be happy. I will be sad. It is inevitable. But I have learnt to accept. Acceptance of the unknown – to ease my symptoms and to most importantly – live a little.
I have now served the hors d’oeuvres to my experiences. If these anecdotal hors d’oeuvres provide solace to one person, I would be happy to think that I have contributed to their journey in a positive way – just like so many people have done with me.”