IT'S BAAA -AAACK!

Janet Camilleri, Editor of Footprints Magazine for Australian Christian Women continues with her series on her depression journey, and she shares with us in the post what happened when her depression returned.
______________________________________________________________

I have been re-visited by an old foe -depression, that is. I didn't really notice at first. It's funny how I only realise the extent of it, in hindsight.

I was diagnosed with clinical depression in November 1998 and began a course of anti-depressants. Things were going well -1999 was the year I began pursuing, and achieving, my dream of freelance writing. Soon the black days were a hazy memory. On January 7, 2000, my 33rd birthday, my doctor and I decided it was time for me to try "flying solo" again. So I started weaning myself off my medication gradually.

I took my last antidepressant on the 1st of March.

By Easter I was feeling rather stressed. Uh-oh, I thought. Could it be? But I was able to rationalise it, explain it away. I had a lot on my plate -writing assignments due; deadlines for my newsletter for Christian women; I was organising a stall for an Easter festival and also the school fete; I had a couple of speaking engagements to prepare for. To top it all off, I'd lost three loved ones quite suddenly since the beginning of the year. Even somebody without depression would be feeling less than their best!

So I decided to wait it out. I began clearing my diary and cutting back my workload -I wanted to have a break and see what happened. Hopefully once the stressful circumstances had disappeared, so too would the disturbing symptoms.

By 1 July 2000 I was back on medication. Why? Because the evidence overwhelmingly suggested that I was once again wrestling with depression, despite all my vows, prayers and good intentions. Here are just a few of the symptoms I was experiencing:

•             I'd lost interest in food and had dropped 5 kilos (about half a stone or more).

•             My husband and I were beginning to squabble over trivial things.
•             I didn't want to go out, phone friends or socialise. Everything just seemed too much of an effort.
•             I started having difficulty concentrating. I was forever losing my train of thought in conversation, and I became quite forgetful.
•             My aches and pains -headaches etc -returned.
•             I didn't want to write. Amazing for me!
•             I thought about death often. Even though I don't think I would ever commit suicide, I sure thought about it lots.
•             I became anxious about little things, such as what I had to do that day, or about going to public places such as the shopping mall.
•             My relationship with the Lord suffered and I found it really hard to pray. I was beating myself up about this, until one day I had a stunning revelation: when I have depression, all of my relationships suffer. Most of my friends think I have dropped off the face of the planet. It's not that I love them any less; it's just that depression makes me want to curl up quietly under my rock and stay there. And it's the same with my relationship with God. It's not that I love Him any less; it's just that I find myself unable to put into words what I am going through. I am always aware of Him and His presence, but not always so capable of "talking" to Him as such.

My doctor said I was "very sensible" to go back on the medication. It was quite a simple decision really. I realised that I don't have to live like this anymore! I'm not content to settle for second best. Now that I know what it's like to taste and enjoy food, I've been missing the experience of looking forward to and savouring a meal. I'm tired of being negative and tired all the time. I couldn't face the thought of living in the depths of depression and I knew medication would help me to find the way out.

Of course part of me resisted at first and wanted to do it in my own strength. But I was shocked by how quickly I slipped back and now feel I have lost the past three or four months.

I'm still waiting for the medication to kick in fully, but at least now I know there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It's only a matter of time.

Paula C. Whitehouse for A Scarlet Rope of Hope

BRAIN DEAD!

Today's post is a continuation in a series of posts from Janet Camilleri, Editor of Footprints Magazine for Australian Christian Women. In this post Janet shares how her depression affected her daily life and relationships; how she felt literally brain dead!
______________________________________________________________

People often ask me what it's like to have depression, and I always find it difficult to answer. How can I describe a continual downward spiral? The unending misery, the total lethargy, the lack of anything to look forward to? The aches and pains? The strong desire to just curl up under my quilt and never come out? The way food became something I just put in my mouth periodically because I knew I should - not because I actually wanted to?

Imagine that you have a can of soup strapped to each of your hands and feet, and that you are wearing false eyelashes. It's okay for a little while, but imagine carrying that load all the time. No matter what you do, that heavy feeling is with you. You try to live a normal life but everything is that little bit harder, and takes that little bit longer. This will give you just a glimmer of what it is like to live with depression.

Now take the cans away, gradually, one at a time. Stretch. Enjoy the sensation. There, feels better doesn't it! Another can gone -wow, look what you can do now! Finally remove those false eyelashes that make your eyelids feel so heavy. Isn't it wonderful! Don't you feel free! You can run and jump and sing and laugh. This is exactly the difference medication can make in the life of a person stricken with depression.

I think the best way to describe my recent brush with depression is to say that I felt 'brain dead'. It's almost like the last three months have been lost in the mists.

Normally I am 'quick' and 'on the ball' but overnight I became very forgetful. I mislaid keys, books and other items. I forgot appointments. I would even find myself standing in the supermarket, knowing that I needed to purchase three items, yet totally unable to recall what the third item was!

I found all my relationships suffered because I lost my ability to communicate. I just didn't feel I had anything to talk about to family and friends. Although some of them chided me for not reaching out to them when I needed help, how could I make them understand that just to pick up the phone and make small talk, or even remember current events in their lives, was completely beyond me? I would completely lose my train of thought in the middle of conversations with my husband, to the point where I was struggling to even complete one sentence. Believe me, this is an alarming symptom in a gal who has been blessed with the gift of the gab!

Praying became almost impossible. I felt terrible that my walk with the Lord was suffering. But one day I had a revelation. All of my relationships were suffering because of my depression. It didn't mean that I loved my husband, my children, my friends any less. And it's the same with God! My relationship with Him suffers when I have depression. Although I lose my ability to communicate, to pray, it doesn't mean that I love Him any less!

My concentration was shot to pieces. Although I normally love to write and read, I just didn't seem to have the attention span necessary. Nothing gripped my attention enough to keep me concentrating.

I had no plans for the future because I was unable to think past the misery and the present day. I lost the joy of anticipation. What are you looking forward to right now? An upcoming vacation? A birthday? Getting together with friends on the weekend? Going to the movies or a concert? Getting married? Having a baby? Finishing your studies? Now imagine all that is taken away from you and you will have some idea of how a person with depression feels.

Research has now proven that many of the electrical impulses in the brain are 'dulled' in a person who suffers from depression. Perhaps this is why I felt brain dead. Pleasure centres especially are affected; yet pain seems to be magnified. When I learnt this, I realised why I was plagued with headaches and migraines, which mostly disappeared once I started taking anti-depressants!

People often joke that when a woman falls pregnant, she loses her brain. When she has the baby, she only gets half of it back! If this is true in your life, I urge you to seek help. Even if you haven't had a baby! Hey, you could be a guy for all I know! As you can see from my story, feeling 'brain dead' for an extended period of time could indicate underlying problems. The good news is, it CAN be treated and soon you will be feeling just like your old self again.

Paula C. Whitehouse for A Scarlet Rope of Hope

The New Normal

Today's post is an excerpt of a post from Kelly at Be A Fun Mum.  The complete post can be read here at Kelly's blog.  Kelly shares of her journey with depression; the discovery, her reaction, how she dealt with it and where she is at now.
______________________________________________________________

It became the new “normal” for me. The feeling of fear. Like a heavy weight on my chest that would squeeze so tight, I found it hard to breathe. From the moment I opened my eyes of a morning, I was frightened. Properly scared. There was no rationale behind it, it was just there. And so fear and I, we became both friends and enemies, entwined in a paradoxical way: I felt alone if I wasn’t afraid, like something was missing, and yet it debilitated me to the point I could not function. Sometimes the fear would dissipate into numbness. Sometimes it would escalate into blind, uncontrollable panic. But it was always there. This was my normal.

For years and years, I carried around the weight of 100 bricks. Every lift of my arms was painful because of the bricks. Bricks, bricks hanging off my body. Bricks squeezing around my heart…bricks everywhere. I was tired. So very tired from carrying the weight. It hurt, and I felt alone. I had to be strong for my family. I had to be strong for my speciial needs daughter. I had to be strong for my dying mother. I had to be strong for my grieving father.  I had to be strong because of my pride. I had to be strong because of my faith. Oh, deluded, pathetic me!

People greeted me with the usual question: “How are you?”

And I would say, “I’m okay.”  But really I wanted to say, “I don’t know what to do. I’m afraid. Afraid of nothing and everything at the same time.”

And then one day I did know. After a violet panic attack, I knew something had to change. The abnormal became my normal, and my new normal was destroying me. 

Please click here to continue reading the remainder of Kelly's post over at her blog.

Paula C. Whitehouse
for A Scarlet Rope of Hope

If a Christian is Supposed to Be Joyous - Why Did I Get Depression?

Today begins the first post in a series of posts from Janet Camilleri, Editor of Footprints Magazine for Australian Christian Women. In this series Janet shares various aspects of her journey with depression, from diagnosis, to dealing with depression, to living with it.

As the posts are lengthy, the first six paragraphs are featured below, with the remainder of the post contained in a document on A Scarlet Rope of Hope's Scribd page.
______________________________________________________________

It took a long time to realise exactly what was wrong with me. I’d been feeling miserable for months, yet there was no logical reason for my blues. The guilt feelings were overwhelming - I had a wonderful husband and children, a lovely home and comfortable lifestyle. What’s more, I was a Christian! I loved the Lord; but somewhere along the line, my joy had slipped away.

Family and friends were shocked when I was diagnosed with depression, as I’d always hidden it so well. Even when I was having a really bad day, I didn’t want to ring or visit anyone and inflict my tears on them. They had their own problems, I reasoned. Even my husband was not aware of all my symptoms -especially how often I slept, unable to get motivated beyond the basic necessities of life. He knew that something wasn’t quite right - I was irritable and plagued by headaches. We seemed to be fighting a lot, often over my reluctance to mix with others. Entertaining and visiting were things of the past.

I thought it might be a spiritual problem so I cried out to God daily for His help. I was worried that I didn’t have more excitement about Him, or soul winning, or fellowship or any of the other things that I thought a “good Christian” should be doing. Gradually I realised that God loved and accepted me just the way I was, and I didn’t have to prove anything to Him. If anything, this dry time drew me closer to God. I began to realise there was more at stake.

Then I started blaming my problems on a new responsibility - but even when I was relieved of this stress factor, it didn’t help. My usual schedule overwhelmed me. Finally, I broke down and confided in a trusted friend. With her encouragement, I sought medical advice.

I felt like such a fake going to the Doctor as there was nothing physically wrong with me. But as I explained the reason for my visit, the tears started to flow. My Doctor arranged for various tests, finally diagnosing clinical depression. I was devastated; although the thought had crossed my mind, I had secretly been hoping that I was iron deficient, which would have been a much more socially acceptable explanation.

With a family history of depression and the knowledge that I had been suffering in silence for nearly 2 years already, I realised it wasn’t going to go away by itself. However, I still resisted the thought of medication -it took me two weeks to actually take my first tablet. There is such a stigma attached to anti-depressants. Yet if I was an asthmatic or diabetic, it would be perfectly acceptable to take medication to address the problem. Why should we treat depression any differently?

Please read the remainder of Janet's story here on Scribd...

Paula C. Whitehouse

for A Scarlet Rope of Hope