It’s been almost a year since I was diagnosed with “severe, severe” depression and anxiety. I know not everyone’s battle with these looks the same, but mine was so skewed from “the norm” that I want to share what I went through.
In May 2016, my ex-mother-in-law unexpectedly passed away. I still vividly remember driving on a two-lane country highway returning from her memorial service and suddenly thinking “I’m going fast enough that if I drive into oncoming traffic we would probably all die, and I wouldn’t leave my kids without a mother”. The thought didn’t shock me as much as it probably should have. I didn’t end up doing it because I didn’t want to end up the sole survivor when I had done it on purpose.
A week or two later, I was reading some article that just devastated me. I don’t even remember what it was about, but I remember sitting on my bed, curled up, rocking, bawling my eyes out and thinking “That’s so awful! How could someone do that! This world is such an awful place! I don’t have to stay here….”
After that, I realized I needed help. While I don’t distinctly remember having any suicidal thoughts before these two instances, I had a vague feeling that they were becoming more frequent and distinct. Almost like a dream you can’t specifically remember until you’ve had it several times.
I honestly thought going for help would be the hard part. I went to the county health department and was evaluated. That’s where I was told I was severely, severely depressed and had generalized anxiety. I was shocked that he repeated “severely” but relieved that the extent of my depression was recognized by someone besides myself. Then, I started crying when he said I would have to wait a month for a psychiatrist appointment.
After discussing it, I left with a sheet of referrals but no appointment. I felt that my depression was progressing enough that if I waited another month I may very well lose the fight. I seriously thought that all I needed to do was get some medication and it would be better. I took the first appointment I could at a local clinic with a sliding scale and discussed with her what I had been going through, what I had been told at mental health, and what I had read online about antidepressants and nursing. I started a very low dose of Zoloft.
I thought that would be the end of it. I’d wait a few weeks for the meds to kick in and everything would be better. Little did I know….
Things continued to worsen as I started packing for our move and started missing the hours I was supposed to be working. I would sit down at the computer and just stare at it, not realizing as the time ticked away. I would be so exhausted in the middle of the day that I would have to take a nap.
I continued having medication follow ups every month or so. The low dose of Zoloft didn’t help, so it was upped. Then upped again. And again. And then another medication was added. And another. After every increase there was a couple weeks of constant headaches interspersed with more severe migraines. The pain didn’t help with the depression or exhaustion. I was overwhelmed. The suicidal thoughts came back. I remember having this feeling of just fighting and fighting with the little energy I had but I just kept losing. Every day I lost a little more.
I wish I could accurately describe how this part felt. Every single day was a desperate, desperate, desperate fight...not just to get up, get the kids fed, mediate fights, etc...but just to survive. It was a very bizarre feeling that I had to keep fighting, even though I always lost, because if I stopped fighting, even to just take a breath, I would die.
I was urged to see a therapist because antidepressants have a higher success rate when coupled with counseling. Due to a sexual assault I had experienced years earlier I was eligible for free counseling. While at the time I felt like this young intern was using a lot of keywords, but maybe not empathizing, I did come away with two very big points from it.
I am a creative person. Seriously, I had no clue!
Depression can manifest as anger. And with this realization I feel like my world tilted a little bit. Depression can manifest as anger.
I had been dealing with depression for years. Years! This irrational anger that would explode out of nowhere was depression. Not bad diet. Not lack of exercise. Not righteous anger about my divorce. D E P R E S S I O N.
I thought depression was exhaustion, lack of interest and suicide. That’s how the antidepressant commercials describe it. I realized I had depression when it got that bad. But I’d been struggling with it for years before that. Years as in….before I even found out that my entire marriage had been a sham.
I remember seeing a therapist back in….2011….for what I was calling “the angries”. It was that irrational anger that always seemed lodged in the center of my chest and would bloom with very little prompting. I remember throwing a remote at the wall, but I have no idea why. I was just angry All. The. Time. Even if I didn’t show it, I felt it. I stopped going to counseling because “the angries” were attributed to stress and they were trying to give me coping techniques.
Things seemed to get better… I think. I can’t honestly say if that anger rock was gone, but there are times when I maybe didn’t notice it as much. Or maybe it did go away. I got married, had another baby, got another degree. But, as quickly as I got married things started falling apart again. He lied. It was my fault. His was sneaky. It was my fault. He lost my trust, it was my fault. He took money, it was my fault. Somehow it seemed that everything was my fault.
And I started to get angry again. It wasn’t the same as before. Maybe because everyone around me seemed to think it was okay that I was angry. So I believed that. But, really, it wasn’t. I would lose my temper at my kids and would hit things (not them!). I broke kitchen utensils, another remote, at least one phone screen.
I KNEW I was overreacting. I knew I was setting an awful example. And the pressure I put on myself to “get a grip” just made it all worse.
And it wasn’t until I traveled through the realm of “finding the right antidepressant dose” that I realized that I had been angry a long time. So when I asked the question: Can depression manifest as anger? And was told it absolutely could, I felt like I had finally been validated. And there really WAS a reason that I had been so angry.
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Now, a year or so later, I can’t say I’m “cured” but I am “better”. I haven’t even mentioned the thousands of dollars I spent trying to fill a hole with things. I haven’t mentioned the days where my kids would beg to just go outside and I was too exhausted to walk downstairs. I don’t even know how often we have ordered dinner because I was just too exhausted to figure out food. These smaller symptoms still creep back from time to time.
But the good days far outweigh the bad and the feeling of fighting a riptide is gone. I still slip back. I still occasionally feel angry for absolutely no reason, but now I recognize these things for what they are and that can actually help me control my actions. Instead of fighting the anger, I can accept it as a temporary feeling that will go away. Not having to fight gives me more energy to control it.
So, I suppose the moral of my story is: if something doesn’t seem like it’s right listen to yourself. If you try to find help, and the answers you are given seem to trite, keep looking. Don’t give up. Don’t let the answers that don’t fit make you feel like you’re the one that’s wrong.
Depression isn’t just exhaustion. Anxiety isn’t just panic attacks. Everyone’s brain is wired differently. Find the answer for YOU, don’t try to force yourself into someone else’s mold.
Never give up! Never surrender! :)
