Depression. Is my mind broken? Am I just dead inside?
I would like to concede at the outset that this appears to be a rather dramatic title. Dead inside? Really? The truth is that when I sat down to write this piece I genuinely tried to come up with another way to put it. Nothing else captured it as concisely or as honestly. I know it’s substantially less upbeat than my previous posts. I made myself a promise when I started this blog that it was going to be real. What I think and feel and am. No filtering to seem like life is all sunshine. Just me telling my story as it is. If you’re suffering with depression or anxiety or any other mental health issues and feel this will be too hard going I totally understand. Feel free to skip this and do what you need to for you.
Is this really how you feel? How much of the time?
To talk to me you wouldn’t know how much of my time is spent feeling this way. It’s been so many years now that I’m great at wearing the mask and putting on a show. Funny, friendly, outgoing Claire. Bursting with positivity. If I confessed how I feel to my friends or colleagues they’d be shocked and protest it can’t be true, I always seem so cheerful! “Seem” is the operative word though isn’t it? It may be to varying degrees but we all have a mask of some kind that we put on when we’re with other people. One only allowed to slip a fraction when with our closest loved ones and completely when we’re by ourselves.
Ok what’s actually going on?
For a lot of years now I’ve felt adrift in my own life. The things I used to enjoy and look forward to deserting me one by one. Now it’s rare if I can even read for more than half an hour before my concentration dips too low and I realise I’m no longer taking in the words. This is particularly sad for me as in the past I could easily devour a book in a day. All through my work day I’ll look forward to doing something fun when I finally finish for the day. It might be meeting a friend, playing a new computer game, cooking dinner, baking something nice or taking a walk.
When I get to the end of the day most of the time I don’t do what I planned. Or if I do I don’t particularly enjoy it and either stop or get it done as fast as possible. As soon as I finish the things I have to do a switch is flicked and I feel flattened by a tidal wave of lethargy. A voice whispering in my ear “Nah you don’t want to do that, let’s just sit here instead.” Everything just seems like so much effort! Almost like my arms and legs are made of lead. It feels like depression is stealing my life a little at a time.
How long have you felt this way?
While I’ve been searching for answers to what might be wrong with me I’ve also considered how long it’s been going on for. I would say about 25 years now. It isn’t constant, some periods are better and some worse but it was always there….lurking.
The first episode I remember I was around 14 or 15. I’m pretty sure this was a major depression as I didn’t wash often, or brush my teeth and my hair was matted because I hadn’t run a comb through it in weeks. I don’t remember much beyond that from that time other than feeling that I was wrapped in the thickest, heaviest grey blanket you can imagine. Everything was so much effort! All I wanted to do was eat and sleep. I had discovered comfort eating by then and starting to put on weight. Getting through the school day was taking everything I had and I wasn’t trying in class even though I was considered fairly intelligent.
Wow! That sounds bad! Did it come on out of nowhere?
What caused all this is pretty easy in my opinion although there was a range of factors. Firstly my mother and stepfather both had chronic, often severe, depression. They got married when I was 4 so it’s almost all I know. Possibly due to the illness, they never tried to shield any of their worries from us (my sister, brother and me) or hide how unhappy they both were.
It’s my personal belief that being happy isn’t something you are naturally. I think it’s something you learn. Growing up in that house neither my sister, my brother or I had anyone to learn that vital lesson from. My parents never socialised or had anyone over. They never took us on holiday and very rarely for days out. We didn’t get pocket money. Pretty much none of the normal childhood things that lets you mingle with others and absorb different views from them. Or even learn a fraction about how to be happy.
Secondly….
In addition to the depression, my stepdad would fly into rages. He would smash things and scream directly into our faces for hours. This was pretty horrible when I grew closer to adulthood but as a child it was terrifying. My mother was convinced that saying anything would make it worse so we just had to sit there and let him yell. It doesn’t do much for your feelings of self-worth when your own mother allows this to go on with her just sitting there and taking it too.
She saw this as happening due to his depression and he couldn’t help it. Honestly as an adult with mental health issues myself now I think this is complete crap. He never did it at work because he couldn’t afford to lose his job so he could control it. He just chose to unleash it on us. My mother didn’t see it this way though and there were never any consequences for this behaviour. No ultimatums at all let alone her kicking him out to protect us. She told us we were the most important thing in the world to her. Looking back now I admit I see what a complete lie that was. To herself more than to us I think. So she could live with herself and remain with the man she loved.
Lastly…
My innate unhappiness and the fact that we moved to another part of the county where my stepdad was from meant I never really fit in at school. I was left alone with no friends at best and bullied verbally at worst. I hated school and did everything I could to avoid being there. Cue more emotional eating in bed with tea and chocolate and a good book. They were my escape from the misery I was feeling into absorbing, fantastical worlds. I met wonderful people who I loved more than most people in real life and this made me withdraw further. At school this was seen as me being even weirder and more unlikeable. It’s a strange feeling when something you love both heals and harms you at the same time.
All these things combined meant my life was unhappy most of the time. Sometimes it was background sadness and sometimes full-blown episodes of depression. I didn’t care enough to seek help though and my parents either didn’t notice or didn’t know what to do.
There was a brief reprieve for me at university. I still lived at home but it brought me into contact with a diverse range of people and I was able to come out of my shell a little more. I still struggled with my mood, body image and self-esteem but I did experience periods of happiness. In particular, my year abroad in Spain was wonderful. It had its ups and downs but I had a small group of close friends, bright sunshine and I was away from my parents’ toxic environment. It was probably one of the times I felt best for the longest in my life.
What happened next?
That was many years ago now though. In the years that followed university I took on various customer service jobs, none of which challenged me but I had too little self-confidence to attempt anything more ambitious. It was then I began to notice the grey.
The first time I noticed it was on a night out with work. I don’t particularly enjoy going out drinking but in a bid to fit in I went along. At some point in the night I was standing in some random bar surrounded by people having a good time. All of a sudden I realised I felt so cut off from them. I was standing among them but it was like they were all shadows, as if I wasn’t in the same place. I was standing on the biggest, greyest field in existence as ghostly figures moved around me. There and not there at the same time. I know, it sounds a weird thing to feel right?
The next day I felt tired but ok and I shrugged it off as one of those things. In the years that followed however it came back with increasing frequency. Not just when doing things I don’t enjoy but other times too. Work, home with family, chatting with friends and even when doing things I loved. It is the strangest feeling. It’s not sadness or anxiety or depression. It’s a feeling of a total disconnect from the world. As if I’ve shifted onto another plane of existence. A place where there are no emotions, just a dead, grey numbness.
Did the grey come back?
My life continued this way for a few more years. They grey continued to grow in scope and frequency. It was punctuated by spells where I felt normal and a few descents into more severe depression. I was put on a range of medications, finally setting on citalopram which seemed to work best. It didn’t have much effect on the grey but it did stop my descents into debilitating despair. I also read a lot about depression trying to find a way to defeat it for good. I tried CBT, exercise, different diets. Despite them all being touted as ways to treat or cure depression I found they helped very little.
CFS enters stage left
I kept going with the exercise longest as it was a habit by then and good for your physical health too. This came to an abrupt halt however when I had two severe chest infections back-to-back. I have asthma and I’m prone to chest infections but I had never had ones like these. Had they happened today I’d have been positive I had coronavirus! The first took two courses of steroids and one of antibiotics to finally go. It took over a month. The second came a mere three weeks later and was even more stubborn…three sets of steroids and two antibiotics this time. It eventually got better but I didn’t.
To this day, some eight years on, I don’t feel like I’ve bounced back from it. In the initial aftermath, I was exhausted all the time. I was sleeping 18-20 hours a day and still yawning for the few hours I was awake. My body felt achy all over like I was suffering from a bad bout of flu. After multiple blood tests, changes to my antidepressants and a sleep study it was concluded I had chronic fatigue syndrome. I was assured it would go “eventually”. I’m still waiting.
It isn’t as bad now as it was then. I can function. I can get up and go to work, I can help with the housework, cook meals and so on. Many days that’s all I feel I can do. I have just about enough energy to keep the wheels turning in my life and no more. I spend evenings slumped in front of the tv because I have no mental or physical energy to do anything else.
Am I a freak? My attempts to be “normal”
In the hope of feeling better on a given day and also for my family’s sake, sometimes I do other things. My husband, sister and I go for walks in the country, or out to a garden centre or to see a band. They talk about how much better these things make them feel. About how being out in nature enriches their soul or how the music makes them want to move their bodies. They don’t understand how I don’t reap the same benefit. I now glibly joke “maybe I’m just dead inside!”
The joke hides my deepest fear that it might be true. That something inside of me has died or been irrevocably broken. In fact there’s no way back from the grey. One day it will swallow me completely and even my brief reprieves will disappear. Writing this down might be the first time I’ve fully admitted this fear to myself.
That must be scary. You need to keep fighting!
I’m aware everything I’ve written might make it sound like I’ve given in. As if I’ve accepted my life is like this now but I haven’t. I am a researcher by nature and I don’t do anything or have anything without looking into it thoroughly first. New TV? Research. Going on holiday? Research! Diagnosis of chronic fatigue? Research, research, research! I’ve read books and papers on depression and chronic fatigue. I have a list of possible treatments, many of which overlap. I’ve evaluated and refined them and tried them again. Nothing works though, or at least not for long. Things I’ve tried…
Medication
I’ve taken a range of doses of Fluoxetine, Sertraline, Citalopram and Mirtazapine. The first 3 worked to varying degrees but the mirtazapine made me into a horrible angry person and I’d never take it again. The way I’m feeling suggest these meds aren’t working well enough but my mum and stepdad were on an endless carousel of medication. They either didn’t work or only worked for a short time. I’m not keen to experience this myself. I think I’m already on the maximum dosage so increasing my current amount of citalopram isn’t an option.
Sleep
The wisdom as regards sleep relating to depression and CFS is that too much is a bad thing. It won’t help and can exacerbate the problem. Instead, consistency is key. For several years I’ve tried to ensure I get 8 hours sleep and that I go to sleep and wake up at around the same time. I can’t say I feel it’s helped but admittedly I do get worse if I let my bedtimes fluctuate too much.
Exercise
I stopped exercising for several months during the COVID outbreak because all the gyms were closed. Of course I could have done other things but I didn’t. I was stressed and anxious, I had just been made redundant and was frantically job hunting and it fell by the wayside. I’m back now and while I do feel better physically when I work out if I’m feeling down or in the grey zone I don’t find exercise helps.
A Healthy Diet
This one is among my larger struggles. I’m very much an emotional eater and struggle to let go of food as a coping mechanism. I know it hurts me in the long run as I am very overweight and my body hatred made my depression and self-esteem much worse for decades. I am much better in this respect now since I found the fat/body acceptance movement. This has not stopped me automatically reaching for food when angry or stressed or anxious. It isn’t going to fix anything and I know it but I can’t seem to stop. It feels nothing else works nearly as well.
Counselling
I have had sessions with two different counsellors. I’ve also sat in on sessions that my husband, mum and stepdad have had. Honestly, I wasn’t massively impressed. As I said I research everything thoroughly and I have a good understanding of my own mind. I know the pitfalls of catastrophising, all or nothing thinking, dwelling on the bad things that happen and ignoring the good and so on. I actively fight these types of thoughts every day. Nothing the therapists told me did anything to make me feel better though. Ever. I’m not saying it doesn’t work for lots of people. I am also not saying all therapists are crap. I’m just saying I’ve never felt I got anything useful from my sessions.
Meditation
I wrote a recent blog post about trying daily meditation to help with my current anxiety issues. There were some benefits and I’m going to carry on but it’s too soon to tell if it’ll have an impact on the problems I’ve talked about here.
Deficiencies
Many of the symptoms I’ve described can be caused by deficiencies in vitamin D, anaemia, low B12, diabetes and so on. I have been cleared for all these things by blood tests and I still take vitamin D daily anyway. Sadly no change.
The end for now…
If you’ve stuck with me to this point thank you! I know it was long and not the most uplifting post in the world. I really would be fascinated to hear your thoughts and experiences. Depression is so common these days and not everyone gets the help they need. Did anything I said strike a chord? Have you come up with any ways to help yourself that I’ve missed? Any questions about what I’ve said? Pop them all in the comments and I will get back to you.
