Learning How to Survive With Chronic Depression Takes a Lifetime to Master.

It’s not my dirty little secret anymore.

I’ve lived with depression for over 20 years.

About 18 Years Ago, I ‘Spiraled’

We had two boys under two-years-old with over a dozen therapies a week, several specialist appointments every week, and so many diagnoses.

It was amid all this therapy and all these different visits that I struggled to handle the strain of (then) two special needs kids. My sense of self, tied to how well I handled all the kids’ various medications, appointments, and therapy sessions, splintered. My emotions spiraled downward.

I convinced myself–in the way only a person who’s hit bottom can–I convinced myself that my kids wouldn’t have all their health problems if it weren’t because of me.

I failed them, and I failed myself.

Worse, I was positive that I would keep failing them unless I did something about it.

And so it was one sunny day in the middle of spring, with birds chirping outside, I decided that I needed to deal with my shortcomings permanently.

I locked myself in the backroom, though no one knew what I was up to and no one came looking, and I took pills by the mouthful with scoops of water drunk from my hands.

After that was more of a blur.

I survived, obviously. And I continue to survive over the past 2 decades.

Only, that was all I did. Survive.

It has been a long journey to improved mental health. But I spent so long barely surviving, barely existing, that I lost years of my life anyway.

What’s so wrong with being depressed?

We all know someone who is or has been depressed. Over 264 million worldwide are depressed clinically. It’s one of the most common diagnoses among mental health disorders.

And yet, we rarely talk about it amongst ourselves.

Why not?

Is it because it is so personal and emotional a diagnosis that we opt not to share it with our friends? That we hide it from those we talk with meaningfully?

Depression: My Dirty Little Word

I have been clinically depressed for many years. Through the highs and lows as one child after another was diagnosed with one diagnosis after another, through the years of growing into my role as wife and mother, my world faded into a background filled with apathy, indecision, sadness, and uncontrollable emotions.

The shame and loathing I placed on my own shoulders during these times used to be an overwhelming part of my reality. I found I placed more pressure on myself than any of my friends, family, doctors, or therapists ever could.

Treatment and many years of working through my emotions, desires, and goals, have helped me to, mostly, remain in control of my depression and to own that diagnosis. It’s a tenuous control, through, tempered by the understanding that I have a clinical disorder, one that I have to handle with the respect and attention it deserves.

Depression: Controlling the beast

I would argue that depression is one of those diagnoses that both frees and confines you.

It frees you because you finally understand that there is a reason why it is harder to get out of the bed every day. It frees you because finally, there is way to get better, to feel stronger and more in control of your life and commitments.

It confines you because how do you explain to others that you are depressed? Why do you explain to others that you are depressed? What if they think you are a bad mom? What if they assume you are just lazy?

The list goes on, endlessly helping you to isolate yourself from others. A diagnosis is supposed to be freeing, but a diagnosis of depression can sometimes seem like an added burden.

There’s a stigma attached to this diagnosis. A connotation attached to this word that makes others, and you, feel as though you are asking for attention, crying over spilled milk, exaggerating ‘the blues’ because everyone’s sad sometimes, right?

The largest part of owning the diagnosis is admitting to yourself that it isn’t shameful to have this diagnosis, that it doesn’t make you a bad parent or a bad person. Exploring your diagnosis, connecting with others who understand it, can help you own it.

Take the medication if you need to. Go to the counseling if it helps you. Definitely consider journaling, because it can help tremendously.

Do what you have to do so that you can live with your diagnosis. Love it. Embrace it. Hate it, even. So long as you accept it.

Depression: No longer my dirty little secret

I am a pretty positive person, but no one is positive all the time. Sometimes I break and fall apart, same as everyone else. I spent years in survival mode because I mentally didn’t know how to cope with one. More. Thing.

I have struggled with depression for years. I’ve always fought the good fight, tried to stay positive, tried to support others. Until I couldn’t.

I couldn’t write. I couldn’t encourage others. I couldn’t even think straight.

…

Rather than tell you about the very real struggle I’ve been facing, and rather than admit that I’d given up on ever feeling okay again, I locked myself away.

From my article, ‘Surviving the Ultimate War on Depression’

Depression is a very real diagnosis; I’ve lived with it for well over twenty years now. It’s not something to shame or to be ashamed of.

I am publicly claiming this as something I own, something that I will not allow to control me–personally or in how I present myself to others.

For special needs parents, who face the added stress–positive or negative–of our kids’ many needs, it’s easy for the stresses to build, for cracks to form in the armor, for life to whirl out of control with you still struggling to manage all the therapies and appointments, as well as all the emotional ups and downs.

It doesn’t make me, or you, a bad parent to be depressed.

It’s okay if you don’t want to whisper your secret to the internet; I hope that by shouting my dirty little secret I can help bring a little awareness, compassion, and empathy to those who work to deal with depression every day.

It isn’t something to be ashamed of, but something to own, and something to advocate about if you are up for that.

I hereby make it official — depression can get lost. It’s a part of me but it doesn’t own me.

If you are struggling or need help please reach out. You are not alone.

• The Crisis Line, online and they have phone numbers listed.