The title of this may just give away the general theme of this post, but don’t let that dissuade you from reading it… hell there are a lot of reasons not to read my posts, don’t let me being blindingly obvious be one of them. Anyway, I’m here for the good news stories.. everyone loves a happy ending don’t they?
Last time I wrote of my apparently amazing, practically overnight recovery from years of depression.
If I gave the impression that a visit to a shrink solved my problems overnight, then I am sorry. I know some people do permanently overcome depression, but I’m not going to giving you a false sense of comfort. I changed, over a long period of time, from living with – accepting – depression, to managing it to the point where it doesn’t interfere with my life. Some times it doesn’t rear it’s ugly head for long periods of time, other times, when life is rough, it takes some conscious effort.
But, that 1st trip to the shrink did bring me back from the brink, I had a purpose again, I had assistance to get well, it was no longer hopeless… there was a future and there was an immediate lift in my mood.
Anyway, back in story telling mode…
A few years after getting help and sorting my life out, a time that involved timeout by myself, changing habits of a lifetime, working crazy hours on crazy hard projects, even nursing my brother-in-law through home-based palliative care (and staying on a while longer to make sure my sister had a good chance of getting back on her feet), one of those things that you only see in pathetic chick-flicks happened.
Taking one step back. Many of my friends were concerned that I was fast approaching the big 4-0 with no partner on my arm. Some were even more concerned when my office moved to the middle of an industrial estate populated by mechanics and other tradies… but then one day…
I was walking past the reception desk on an overcast day, when I was startled by a ray of sunshine coming through the front automatic doors, stepping from that ray of sunshine was a beautiful Indian woman in a beautiful Saree.
Yeah told you it was sucky.
Nothing much happened for a while, until I returned from a trip to Zimbabwe… then… well, 2 weeks later I was engaged.. 6 weeks after that I was married.
It was bliss, for a long time, but then the black dog reared it’s head.
Not in me… in my wife.
I was still acutely aware of the impact of depression and managed it when I needed to, but my wife didn’t have the tools or the understanding.
I thought my family was psychiatry-averse and depression deniers, but I hadn’t met a culture that that wouldn’t face it. I guess in a way, she would have been in the same position as my parents… get over it, we have living to do, no time to deal with depression.
It was one of those hard periods in life as well, both of us were working, both of us were studying (yeah, I actually went back to University), times were tough and this was just the icing on the crap cake.
We just lived with it.
A couple of weeks after my wife’s graduation party, we had that news that nearly all newly weds dream off… we were going to have a baby.
Life couldn’t get any better…
… or worse.
The black dog wasn’t just nipping at our heels now, it was curling up on the end of the bed at night, it was right at home, in our home.
Pausing the story for just a moment, the crazy thing is, Australian has a brilliant (well maybe not 100% top notch, but pretty close) PUBLIC health system. All these years I have been cursing the government for taking my tax dollar and giving nothing in return, and you know what – there it is, when you need it, you just need to ask. You just need to realise you aren’t taking a handout, you are taking what you have been paying for, for years, waiting on the day you might need to claim.
Forcing the issue.
On the way to our last checkup before Odin was born, I told my wife if she didn’t mention the depression to the nurse, I would, I had to. This was no longer about just her, it was also about Odin as well. I didn’t need to say anything, when asked, my wife told the nurse.
Holy shit… I have never seen services scramble so fast in my life. let me tell you, next time you break your arm, don’t wait in the hospital emergency for 4 hours, go tell someone you are pregnant and depressed – IMMEDIATE FUCKING ACTION.
It was awesome! Seriously, the efforts that the nurses and doctors put into helping my wife over the next 18 months were amazing, right down to arranging whole-day childcare just so she could get time out for herself.
This is fantastic, but what it underlines of course, is the lack of services if you aren’t a woman with PND (Post-natal depression), because the services don’t jump in the same way. There are services, up to 12 counseling sessions in a calendar year (seriously, if you are in Australia and concerned about your mental health, go talk to your GP… IT DOESN’T COST YOU MONEY!), but nothing compared to the services now available to combat PND.
You know why?
Because PND is now accepted by the general population. It’s real, it exists, it’s a danger to the mothers and their children. 20 years ago other women would scoff at a woman with PND… now days, men or women understand and want to help.
But depression for the average “man” in the street still doesn’t have that profile, although events such as Movember are working to change that.
Back on track once again, things between my wife and I weren’t getting any better. If you have ever had a child, as in a brand spanking newborn child, you will know that you can be in peak physical and mental health and still get the stuffing knocked out of you.
Things got bad…
Things got worse…
There wasn’t just one black dog in the house now… there was two… and we knew that soon there was a good chance that our black dogs were going to spawn a puppy for Odin.
My black dog grabbed me from behind. I was worried about my wife, worried about my child, worried about my work, worried, worried, worried.
I was so worried about everything else, that I forgot to worry about one thing… me.
Off topic for a moment…
A friend of mine once asked for assistance when she was fighting off the black dog. At that point I couldn’t give it to her, I just wasn’t personally in a position to do it and I made it clear through this analogy.
Imagine my mental heath as a cup of coffee.
When it’s low, as it is now, I barely have enough to sustain myself.
When it’s high, when it’s overflowing, I have more than enough to share about.
On topic.. yeah but for how long right?
My cup was full for a long time with my wife, but over a long period of time it had drained low. I had been so busy giving, that I had neglected to sustain my own safe levels of mental health.
I mentioned in my last post , that before I knew I had depression and sought help, I thought about suicide every day. My wife was similar, but with one major difference, she felt she had no choice but to do it. Not just once, many times. Thankfully I foiled every attempt, only one becoming serious enough for her to be hospitalised.
But imagine that.
Imagine going to work every day not knowing whether your wife would be alive when you got home.
After a while even the strongest person becomes drained under those circumstances.
I mentioned that one time it was serious, serious enough for her to be hospitalised for a week. Serious enough for child services to enquire whether our child should be removed for the sake of safety.
Not surprisingly, I too hit rock bottom, but this time I didn’t have the luxury I had the first time I sought help. I needed to be fully functioning – today.
I did something I was reluctant to do. I went on medication. The black dog was locked in it’s kennel. I could still hear it’s howls, but I was in control again. I was able to manage my life, protect my wife and my child while I sought counselling, while I got my life, our lives, back together.
Don’t be scared if they recommend medication. If it means you don’t walk in front of the bus when leaving the doctors surgery it’s worthwhile. It takes time to tame the black dog, and it’s a crafty mongrel, use whatever weapons you can to put it down.
Remember that if you are helping someone with depression, then you need to keep an eye on yourself as well, maybe even go so far as to check in with your doctor about resources to build your resilience.
Serious decisions
Last year my wife and I made a very serious decision.
We ended our marriage.
We had acted too slow, hurt each other too much, allowed the black dog to come between us permanently.
Foremost however, was our concern for Odin.
When I looked at him I saw that little boy on the chairlift with his Dad. I, we, didn’t want that future for our son.
Our separation is amicable. We did it for each other, for Odin. We have pulled the pack of black dogs apart so we can manage them individually. They are still there, but now we can support each other from a distance to keep those mongrels in line.
We worked at it.
We worked hard at it.
But in the end, life is too short as it is.
Why make it less worth living?
Why risk it being shorter than it can be?
As for Odin… his mood lifted almost immediately. Three days after our separation he appeared a normal happy boy. Occasionally he asks whether his Mummy and Daddy will ever get back together (despite the fact that his Mummy now has a new boyfriend), but he is also well aware that we now all much happier and capable of handling what is thrown at us.
He is also aware that Chocolate Mo’s are in fashion this month…
He just needs someone to enourage his Dad to buy him more.
As does Gnomeaggedon… sure a Mo is better than a bare-face Gnome… but I can’t play WoW right now, because I break down in tears every time I get to the login screen!
You can give via Visa, Mastercard, Amex or Paypal.
Paypal, perfect for those abstained coffee donations
Gnomer and Out!
Other Posts of mine on Movember:
- Shave and a Haircut: Movember
- Just in case you thought I wasn’t serious
- Depression in the family: Movember
- Youth gone wild: Movember
- Married with child and depressed: Movember
- Depression in the workplace: Movember
- Talking about it saves lives: Movember
- Better Off without me
- Aware People are Supportive People: Movember
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
http://gnomeaggedon.net/2010/11/20/married-with-child-and-depressed-movember/
great Khadgar’s beard, Gnomey, i want to nominate this series for an award. it’s so touching, so personal, so full of insight and helpful information… thank you for writing it. i hope that those who need help with depression heed your words and take that step.
I hope so too, but I know the black dog is a cunning mongrel and one of it’s primary weapons is lethargy.
You don’t want to get out of bed in the morning, even though you know the very act of getting out of bed will beat the black dog back.
You don’t want to talk about it, even though you know it will help to reset the imbalance.
You don’t want to seek help because that takes effort, more effort than just getting out of bed, and that’s hard enough.
It steals your sense of self worth… you aren’t good enough to hold a job, go to the party, see your friends, walk down the street etc.
The thing is, the smallest of steps, getting out of bed, going for a walk, practically anything that gets you moving is like opening the curtains in a dusty old room on a bright sunny day.
The light floods in, your perspective changes, hope is reborn and the dog is beaten back.
The challenge is dragging yourself out of bed the next day, the day after, the day after that.
I’ve made it to the other side, dragged myself free of the quicksand that is depression, multiple times and it’s worth it, like surviving winter and waking up to a beautiful spring morning.
Speaking of which, it’s a beautiful spring morning here right now, sun is shining, birds are singing.
Shit it’s good to be alive!
hear hear. i don’t have any problems with depression, but i’ve had friends and family who have, and some i’ve lost because of it. it’s horrible, and something not talked about enough. you’re doing a great, wonderful thing.
reading this, reading your story….I was going to say you have no idea, but the truth is, it would have been an empty trite phrase – you have a very good idea.
I’m lucky. I’m lucky that my husband and I are stronger together then apart, that no matter how loud the black dogs get, we can control them better together.
I look at him, I look at our puppies, and no matter how bad it gets, they are worth living for, worth getting better for.
I’m glad that you and your wife found a solution that helped you keep your black dogs at bay, so what if its not a conventional happy ending, who cares.
I think I’m going to roll an little alt, just so I can grow a mustache on him for the rest of the month. I wish I could donate something more substantial then virtual mustache.
Yeah I have a pretty good idea.
We tried to fight the dogs together, but we failed, so we chose a different path. These day’s it isn’t such an unconventional ending and best of all it is a happy ending for all parties.
Each of us will find a different path.
I am doing my best to avoid giving advice, rather just trying to share my stories so that:
1) It’s not in the closet, it’s out there, people are reading and thinking about something that for some reason is kept behind closed doors.
2) People may see something in my stories of themselves or their loved ones and maybe gain the strength to stand up to the black dog themselves.
My story is mine and I know there are many out there that make mine look like a holiday.
Talking, sharing, thinking.. it all helps to bring depression out into the open where it can be tackled… but that’s for another post.
As for donating something more substantial.. you already have, you have shared your good new story and thrown you hand in the air and exclaimed:
I deal with my depression myself…
I’m fortune to say that I know exactly what causes mine, though. I know what I could do to make it go away. But there is also the fear that holds me back, preventing me from taking that step.
Mine stems from who I am as a person. Mine stems from who I’d choose as a life partner if I were given the choice. But so long as I live where I do, and want to retain the two good friends I do have, I have to do the show and dance to keep up appearances. I have to maintain the illusion just well enough to where I can deceive those who trust me enough to simply take my word for it.
Deceive…
I wonder when the day might come where I feel comfortable enough, and confident enough, that the risk is worth taking.
There is a poem that I really love and have grown attached to. It resonates with me and with my personal battle.
-Paintbrush-
-Bettie B Young-
I keep my paint brush with me
wherever I may go,
in case I need to cover up,
So the real me doesn’t show.
I’m so afraid to show you me,
afraid of what you’ll do,
that you may laugh or say mean things,
I’m afraid I might lose you.
I’d like to remove all my paint coats
to show you the real, true me,
But I want you to try and understand,
I need you to accept what you see.
So if you’ll be patient and close your eyes,
I’ll strip off all my coats real slow.
Please understand how much it hurts
to let the real me show.
Now my coats are all stripped off,
I feel naked, bare and cold.
And if you still love me with all that you see,
you are my friend, pure as gold.
I need to save my paint brush, though,
and hold it in my hand.
I want to keep it handy
in case somebody doesn’t understand.
So please protect me, my dear friend
and thanks for loving me true.
But please let me keep my paint brush with me
Until I love me, too.
Thanks for that poem, it’s awesome and pretty well describes the deception (internal and external) that occurs with depression.
I think I will lift it to more prominence in the body of a post.
I’m guessing that you have more reasons to deceive than just depression, but of course depression itself is a good enough reason to deceive.
You deceive everyone that you are OK, that you are coping.
You deceive yourself that you are better… or that you can’t get better and there is no point in trying.
The one thing is, ironically, that you don’t deceive yourself that you are deceiving yourself… not that it helps, in fact it’s just another reason to despise yourself, more fuel for the black dog.
Your post was deeply touching….I think you’re a brave and honest man to make all those tough decisions and share them with us. I know I wouldn’t be strong enough to do that. Thank you for your post, and let’s hope your life will make new wonderful turns!
I think you have, in your own way, purely by acknowledging these posts.
Good luck fighting the black dog!
I’ve been an on-and-off lurker here for quite some time . . and I’ve fought depression for even longer. The stigma against the mentally ill here in the US is strong. I went it alone until I found my fiancee, and she kicked my butt until I went to therapy. 6 years of therapy made a minimal dent in my troubles. I fought both my psychiatrist and my girl every day for those 6 years on whether or not I needed medication to help regain control of my mind . . . .
They were right.
I went on my new meds two months ago, and there are literally no words for the immense difference between the two states of being.
All I know is that being alive doesn’t hurt any more. Thanks for sharing your story.
The stigma is the real killer, not the illness. If there was less stigma, there would be more understanding, more treatment, happier lives, more lives.
Speaking for myself on the meds, it’s funny that after years of happily consuming prescription drugs, non-prescription drugs, alcohol etc, all for a momentary mood lift (followed by the inevitable extended low mood), that I wasn’t champing at the bit to take a drug that would help make me happy… long term happy.
They don’t fix the problem, no more than antibiotics or disprin do for physical ailments, they just help us, help our body and mind fight the “intruder”, the illness. They give us respite where none is otherwise possible.
I wonder how many other people, that like me, we opposed to anti-depressants, take other meds as a matter of course for even the most minor of ailments.
Taking antidepressants doesn’t make you any less of a person, it just makes you stronger.
Think of them as artillery cover fire while your internal infantry gets down fighting the black dog in the trenches.
[...] Married with child and depressed: Movember [...]
Depression is a major issue that is overlooked in a lot of circumstances. Being a licensed mental health counselor and having my BA and Masters in clinical psychology, the power of depression is all to often misunderstood. It is debilitating and affects not only the individual but the whole family. All too often the impact resonates more than one individual and the rest of the family misses the individual that is depressed.
One thing that I wanted to point out is that clinically there is no such thing as post postpartum depression. Clinically it is a major depressive episode with a post postpartum onset signifier. All a signifier is is a time period in which a major depressive episode is more likely to occur. The majority of studies that have been published indicate that it is not a separate disorder, but that it is a period of time where depression is more than likely to occur.
What is interesting that is backed up by multiple studies is that a major depressive episode is more likely to occur during the postpartum period than all other signifier periods. Which in psychology is interesting because of our tie to the scientific method. There is significant statistical difference between the postpartum signifier occurrence and all other signifier periods. There are still more studies being done but they seem to indicate the massive biological changes that a woman goes through as the major cause. There have also been studies looking at the postpartum occurrence happening in men as well.
Two last things:
One we were taught in our classes that diagnoses must only come when you are absolutely certain. Most people do not distinguish between disorders and instead tend to lump them all together under the title insane or crazy. They told us that a 5 minute decision to label somebody will give them that label for the rest of their life.
Second in regards to medications. The occurrence rate of AD/HD and ADD is approximately 3-4% of the child and teen populations. In the US approximately 60-67% of that population has been diagnosed and is on medication for those disorders. I have heard of cases where teachers have refused to let a child back unless they were on drugs for it. You can see a child that does not need the drugs and get on them turn into a zombie on them, while ones that need them turn normal.
Thanks for that Tyrsalt, good to have something more than my amateur experiences for people to read.
This makes a lot of sense, as my ex-wife was already depressed, it just hit like a truck after our son was born.
This topic has really come alive for me tonight after a phone call from her current boyfriend asking what to do, as she had just overdosed after an argument.
It’s just so unpredictable… I was only talking to her a few hours back, she was very excited about a new rental property they had just received the lease on.. things were moving forward. Hopefully she will recover alright, but it will be a long path back again for her.
Bloody rotten mongrel of a black dog.
Ohh and I agree whole heartedly on the diagnosis and the medication. I remember getting a preliminary positive diagnosis for diabetes once (I know not quite on the depression angle).. this threw me into a black despair for a week.. I expect it to come at some point, just wasn’t ready then… only to get the all clear a week later. Diagnosis needs to be correct 1st time (wherever possible), because it’s something that people carry for a long time.
As for ADHD meds… or their overuse. Once again, it’s about the right tool for the job and I think that people often give up on kids too easily, especially with the hectic and troublesome lives some of us live, it’s very easy to find a solution in a bottle.
and finally (this comes to mind after speaking to a mate the other night that is dealing with depression and on meds), just because the Doc has given you meds, doesn’t mean they are the right ones for you… there is a bit of trial and error… so if someone is prescribed meds and they don’t seem to be working, or are having adverse effects… go straight back, there are a lot of choices, it’s about finding the right fit for each person. (I got lucky, my ex-wife went through several sorts and doses until she found one that worked for her… for a while anyway)
How correct, each drug alters a chemical in a different way. SSRI’s inhibit the seratonin rectors that absorb it, while MAOI’s inhibit the body from absorbing monoamine oxydase ihibitors. They both are used to treat depression the may be caused by the chemicals in the brain being off but they do it in different ways. Sometimes the therapist does not do enough investigative work to determine what one would be the best and essentially put you on a drug trial until they find the right one. Some do not even give you the precautions on the drug like with MAOI’s there is a laundry list of things to avoid (wine, cheese, and st johns wart to name a few) that will kill you if you take them. We need better therapists who care about taking care of the people who need their help.
Then the body get used to drugs. After a long period of use the body eventually adjusts for the presence of what ever it may be.
I will keep your ex in my prayers. Even though you are a mage. But depression can hit anyone no matter who you are. I have been trying to pull myself out of one, though mine is more circumstance related. And you can have a low level depression and then wham all of a sudden it hits you like a mack truck. A major depressive episode.
Cheers and you are in my thoughts and prayers.
Thanks for your thoughts and prayers. She is out of hospital, which is hopefully a good thing. Now it’s back to rebuilding.
For her…
For her boyfriend…
For Odin…
For me (and all the other people this will effect in some way or another).
It is going to be particularly hard for her boyfriend, a depression sufferer himself, this will be hanging around his neck for a long time to come… I know, I’ve been there.
One last thing. It is amazing how much we are still trying to decipher about the human mind. For example with depression there are several things to look at. Is it just a personality construct based upon life events and/or circumstance? Is it something low level like cyclothymeia that can be easily treated with a prescription? Is it something more complicated like a major imbalance of chemicals or a catastrophic and traumatic brain injury? Something wrong with the structure or process? Is it some other part of the body such as the thyroid?
There is soo much that we don’t know that we need to know to effectively treat others.
Once again, so right… we haven’t yet scraped the surface when it comes to knowledge of the human mind and body. We all just need to stay alive long enough to benefit from the amazing things that are being learnt on a daily basis.
[...] Married with child and depressed: Movember [...]