You wouldn’t send a footballer back onto the field with a broken leg, you wouldn’t send a child to school with chicken pox, and you wouldn’t go to work with a migraine, food poisoning, in fact when your sick most of us stay home in bed. I have had a mental illness for more years than I would like to count, it’s been a very long time, and for me, it feels like more than a lifetime. I dream that one day I will be so well that I can go off my medications, and the only diagnosis I would have is that of happiness. But I know that this is unlikely, that once diagnosed depression never leaves you, no matter how you are feeling it is always there hiding in the background.
I have started to believe that not only has depression defined who I am and the path I have taken, it has left me broken. Like a shattered vase can be glued back together it still is actually broken, that is how I feel – broken.
I have experienced so much darkness, loneliness, pain, sadness, fear, distress, and tears that it has torn me to shreds, it’s sapped all my energy, all my willpower, all that I can be, all that I am. Depression over so many years has literally taken me, and broken me beyond any repair that therapy, medications, ECT, medical appointments, hospitals, or anything in between can do for me.
The last 18 months has been some of the hardest times of my life, I nearly wasn’t here to start or write a blog. I have seen all kinds of therapy, seen many people, some who call themselves professionals in the field of medicine and psychiatry. I have been to hell and back between what I did to myself, and what treatments were tried on me. Even there is a little bit more sun in my life, days I am almost ok, most of the time I just feel broken. There are times when I write about my recovery from the depths of hell, but recovery in its entirety, I am unsure that someone who is so broken can ever recover, be normal again.
I look at the people around me – full of energy, always smiling, work or play is no object, they have no health issues affecting every aspect of their day, and they just enjoy, love their life – it’s all so natural for them. I don’t understand how this can’t be me, why does even the simplest things be the hardest for me? Why can’t I just smile and bounce through life without a trouble in the world?
I don’t want wealth, overseas travel, a luxury home, material objects and possessions, I just want to feel well, to be diagnosed as happy, and not be so broken.