I had four kids before I realized I had depression. But there were concerns long before that — concerns I never realized were based in truth. The signs were always there, but they got worse the older I got. Still, I didn’t feel like I had a problem until my anger got out of control. My temper would get the best of me so easily. I didn’t do anything that was too bad, thankfully, but I felt myself coming close a few times. It was at that point that I decided to see a doctor.
Being told I had depression was honestly shocking. Anxiety, I expected; I had this lovely little ball of stress that took up permanent residence in my stress. Sometimes it was better, sometimes worse, but it was always there. But depression? I never thought of anger being a symptom of depression, but — spoiler alert! — it is.
Still, once I knew I was depressed, a lot of things suddenly made sense. I looked back on my life, and there were so many things I thought were normal that suddenly, I realized were not so normal. It wasn’t normal to fantasize about being dead. It wasn’t normal to go through every day in a fog. It wasn’t normal to feel like the world would be a better place without me in it. It wasn’t normal to think that I should run away and change my name and start over in a new place.
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Honestly, how could I not know I was depressed? I’ll tell you: there’s a stereotype of depression, where someone is just sad and gloomy all the time. But in real life, that’s not necessarily what it looks like. It’s different for each person, and that can include becoming uninterested in things you were before, or — like me — having serious problems with angry and irritability.
The doctor prescribed me antidepressants, and while at first, it made no difference, after about three weeks, I had a revelation. I was going about my business, and it struck me: I was happy. I actually felt happy. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt happy. And what was sad was the realization that I had gone so long without being happy.
But the good news is that now I was happy again, and I still am today. It’s been a few years, and staying on my medication is a lifesaver… perhaps literally. Most of the time, I feel normal, and the best part is that on the days I don’t, I know why. I can at least be aware that, hey, this is just a depressive episode and that it will pass. Knowing that I have depression and that this is why I feel the way I do makes a huge difference.
I put off seeing the doctor for a long time, worried that I would be shamed or looked down on — or worse. I’m a mother now; what if the doctor called Children and Youth Services (CYS)? But here’s the thing: depression is not rare, especially for women. If you’re having problems with feeling sad, angry, or empty, then don’t be afraid to ask for help. It is out there, and there’s no shame in getting it.
