Depression
6 Dec
Mental illness, despite all efforts by so many parties, is still such a taboo these days. If I had broken my arm I wouldn’t have any problems with telling people that I had, how it happened and let them sign my cast. But taking a sharpie to my brain and writing ‘get well soon, Caz’ seems ridiculous.
I want to be open about my problems in the hope that maybe some good will come of them. If I can make a difference to even just one person because of this then it’ll be worthwhile.
I am depressed. Three weeks ago I tried to overdose on narcotics because I thought that if I didn’t die then hopefully they would make me feel again. I worry that I would have gone through with it if someone hadn’t come into my room at that moment. Tramadol hydrochloride and codeine phosphate, prescription drugs left over from my back issues, drugs which I hated taking anyway. But they were accessible. And they probably would have done the job.
I was never planning to tell anyone about that suicide attempt. It’s not like it was the first time. But something had changed this time, something big. The next day I went and sat with my college tutor. I didn’t know why I did it. And I don’t know why I stayed for so long. Maybe some part of me wanted to tell him, share how abysmal I’d really been feeling for as long as I could remember. Eventually I told him. And then the senior tutor. And then my counsellor. And then the GP. And then the Mental Health Crisis Team. It was a long day.
I’ve never been particularly good at talking. But this is where it had to change. Either I was going to end my life or I was going to have to talk and accept the help which was being offered. I was started off on sleeping pills, zopiclone – a hypnotic, and anti-depressants, fluoxetine – an SSRI. The zopiclone was fantastic. I could sleep and it was wonderful. Everything was fine when I was asleep, my brain couldn’t harm me, I was in charge. The side effects were pretty irritating: muscle weakness, exhaustion, confusion, patches of memory loss, but that was all fine because it was instead of the depression. The fluoxetine did nothing. Not that it was supposed to in the short amount of time which I was on it, but it was useless. When I came off the zopiclone and was just on the fluoxetine I was nauseous, terrified and horrifically panicky. I was scared of people, I couldn’t sit in the waiting room at the doctors, I couldn’t even see the people I loved without crying and wanting to throw myself out of a window.
I was changed onto citalopram, another SSRI antidepressant which also acts as an anxiolytic which sorts out my anxiety issues. Alongside that I was given propranolol, a beta blocker which helps reduce the physical symptoms of anxiety and is, in my opinion, an absolute wonder drug, and temazepam, a benzodiazepine Class C drug to relax me and make me sleep. Temazepam is shit. As is mixing it with half a bottle of wine. That is both shit and naive.
Give up on the temazepam after two goes and try melatonin since sleep still isn’t happening and it’s day 10 of the insomnia. Once the melatonin starts to work my mood feels as if it’s starting to lift. This is great. I start to go back to uni stuff, have meetings with people, perhaps start to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
According to Google, suicidality is prevalent a few weeks into citalopram treatment. Looks like they’re not wrong. I spent Friday and Saturday screaming that I wanted to die. There was no other option. I could see no light, only pain. Life wasn’t worth living, everything was futile. I was losing the people that I loved and I was helpless to help anyone who needed me. I was manic at the same time as being depressed and this expressed itself as being suicidal and in the right frame of mind to do it. I was referred back to the doctors and the Crisis Team, and given a prescription for diazepam, another benzodiazepine to relax me and calm down my mania. It’s possibly working, I’m not sure, but I’m at home and my parents now know everything about my depression, which drugs I’m on and that I’m suicidal. And that was hard. So hard.
I’m starting to come up again. Maybe in a week I’ll be able to feel the citalopram working and things will be looking a bit brighter, and that’ll be the first step on the road to recovery.
I just want to apologise to all of 6 Southend and to Tim Fowler for having to look after me when I’ve been quite so horrendous. It’s not been something I could control and I would like to thank you all for being so supportive and amazing when I’ve needed you most. You are all superstars and I don’t know what I would do without you all. So thank you, all of you. I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you but I will try my best. And a massive thank you to everyone else who has helped me too. You are all wonderful.
At times like this I forget how amazing friends are, and I’m delighted that you are the ones to remind me of this.
I hope you gain as much from discussing this with people as I did from discussing my past with you, and I really hope things start getting better soon.
Sorry for how poor this comment is.
Aidan
I don’t want any thanks other than the knowledge that you are still fighting this. I am so glad that you are so brave and that you told so many people who can now help you. I love you Caz and I always will, I’m not going anywhere I promise. I’m always here, I’m only ever a phone call away. xxxxxx
I said once before that you are the bravest person I know: this confirms it.
I don’t know who you are or anything about you aside from occasionally seeing your tweets crop up in my feed, but I felt I should say that even admitting to being in your position is incredibly courageous. Facing and overcoming these difficulties is evidence that you possess the greatest of both strength and spirit, as well as being inspirational to those around you.
Be proud of who you are and what you’ve done. Best of luck regaining your balance.
It’s going to be a long battle and I think you know that. Be proud of yourself, be proud of how far you’ve come, of your independence, and your ability to keep going, and know that as far as I am concerned you are still very, very brave.
Look after yourself.
I am always so sorry to read other peoples’ stories like this (James pointed me in the direction of your blog via his) and I really hope things get easier for you, and soon. Although I can’t really add anything except what James said – this could well be a long battle. All I can add is that I have made it out the other side, and I think from what little I know of you, if I can do it, you most certainly can. Best wishes,
Jenny
So I feel I should comment, even if I don’t know you quite as well as some of the other people with similar messages: I agree with James that it will be a long battle, but if there is ever a way I can help make the battle that little bit shorter or easier, just let me know.
I feel a bit stupid writing a comment about this- particularly as, for whatever reasons, i haven’t really made the effort to keep in touch with you over the years. And now it seems like a bit of a joke to say something empathic (like they teach us at med school!)- and ultimately, meaningless. But i came across your blog, read your post and couldn’t help but say something back to you.
I don’t know you now. But I did used to know you. And the person I used to know back then was an amazing, enthusiastic, interesting, fun person with a thirst for life. You were my best friend and you meant the world to me!
Depression is an illness- and you can and you will beat it. You’ve made that initial step which, in itself, takes enormous courage and strength and, to echo the comments above, you should be truly proud of yourself. Of course, it’s going to be really hard and it’s going to be a long battle. But, for the person you once were and for the person you are going to be, please keep trying.
And just for the record, I have every faith you’ll make it. Good luck. x