I mentioned in an earlier post that I would share about how I managed to hold down a job while suffering from chronic depression. As I said earlier, I stayed at home with my kids for thirteen years and I do believe that it was the love that I had for my two boys that carried me through those years. I realize that there are people out there who could not have coped with raising children AND their depression. I am not going to judge you, if you fall into that category of people. We all suffer in our own ways, and what I consider to be very hard to endure, you might find easy to get thru. And visa versa.
Anyway, I decided to go back to work because both boys were doing well at school and I felt like they no longer needed me to be there all day long. I got a job where I worked the night shift and would get home in time to make their lunches and send them off to school . (We lived five houses away from the school). I would go to bed and sleep til they got home. I would average about 32 to 35hrs. of sleep a week. I depended heavily on coffee to keep me going. But no matter how strong I appeared to be on the outside, inside I was an emotional mess just waiting to spill over.
Often, I would crash on the weekends with migraine headaches or just feeling so far down that I couldn't drag myself out of bed. But then, Monday morning came, and I would rise to the challenge and go thru another week. It was during this time that my husband began to pressure me to get things done around the house and many arguments surfaced as a result of my change in responsibilities on top of the depression that I sometimes felt was drowning me. I tried to explain how the depression affected me, but he never really took my depression seriously. He would tell me to just get over it; said it was all in my head. It wasn't until I attempted to take my life, that suddenly, it became an issue of any substance in his eyes. But that's a whole other story, I won't get into today.
The more my husband complained, the deeper I sank into this deep, dark pit of despair, having set and not completed ridiculous goals of perfection for myself. I felt very much alone and defeated at my own game. Our marriage began to fall apart, and within a few years, I left my husband and went to live with a friend for a few months. I wasn't sure that I still loved him. I knew I was not happy. He was not happy. The kids were not happy. It all stemmed equally from my depression and his stubborn, critical nature.
I WAS DROWNING IN NEGATIVITY. My own negative thoughts of self doubt, and inadequacy and the constant put downs I got from my husband, was tearing me to pieces.
We are church-goers and as much as I love God and my church family, I found myself withdrawing from what used to be a highlight of my week. Or I would go, and smile and remain superficial and so phony, I often hated myself. I always preferred to be alone, but at the same time, I was so desperately lonely. I would often sit in the darkness and cry. It was like a release of all the pain and sadness I had to bottle up inside for the sake of my kids and for a husband who was hopeless in understanding me.
Looking back on those days and the many things that eventually spiralled downwards into thoughts of suicide, I'm sorry I hurt my family and friends with that decision. I wish I could have sought out the help that came my way afterwards. All I can really say now, is that suicide is never the solution to the problem of mental illness. I KNOW what it feels like to be so far down and helpless. I KNOW what voices can plague a person til you feel defeated. I KNOW what it's like to feel numb to everything around you. There is a way to cope with depression. To learn how to live with it and in spite of it. There will be good days and there will be bad days, but if you're dead, there is no days left in which to learn and love and to improve your life.
So let's talk!
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