Just a thought…(or two)…

I don’t know exactly when it started. 

I’ve always been a little moody. Being ”moody” is half the fun of who I am, right?  At some point the moodiness overtook me.  I lost control.  Darkness slowly filled my soul; numbing any ability to feel happiness and experience joy.  I struggled to keep Darkness away, but I wasn’t strong enough and I didn’t realize I needed help until it was too late.

It wasn’t a sudden change.  The reality is that it probably was such a subtle overtaking that it was maybe even a couple years of slowly turning and darkening.  There was less happy me, less fun me, less friendly me. What was left was grumpy me, sour me, hateful-keep-to-myself me.  I was inexplicably sad at times, although I’d try to hide it if I cried so my husand wouldn’t ask any questions I couldn’t answer. 

I quit doing things I loved, quit seeking out friends, quit doing anything -  quit caring that I’d quit all those things. 

I became someone I didn’t fully recognize. I could see me, I could feel me, but it was a version of me outside myself.  I felt, at times, like I was in a horror movie; trapped in a body that looked like me, sounded like me, and was even living in my home with my family but in the end would do something horrendous and I would be helpless to stop it.      

No one else liked this version of me either. Least of all my family. My children and my husband suffered the worst of my outbursts.  I yelled at everyone for anything, for nothing at all - I went into hysterics if dishes were on the wrong shelf; I lost control if a sock was in the hallway; if the smallest thing wasn’t done the way, the time, the manner in which I declared it should be done the world was coming to an end.  I would scream and yell,  all the time knowing I was out of control and completely unreasonable – asking myself why I was doing it and telling myself to stop but unable to get control of myself at all.  

My boys were young then.  They spent alot of time away from home. I don’t blame them. 

Thank goodness my husband is made of patience. He put up with alot of abuse that most husbands wouldn’t have and he probably shouldn’t have.  There were probably quite a few days he didn’t like me very much.  He put up with my explosions…for a while.  But even he could only take so much.    

I knew something was wrong with me. I refused to admit it to anyone. I knew something was really wrong. If I admitted just how wrong what would that mean? I was afraid of what “help” would be. Was I crazy? I was a raging maniac, a screaming industrial strength head spinning for no reason at all crazy woman. 

I cried in the shower so no one would know.    If I admitted how out of control my anger had become, how deep the fear of my own behavior could reach, or how overwrought I could become when I was alone, would I be taken away to the nut house? 

When I was at my very worst, feeling at my lowest, and barely able to keep myself from imploding, I was engulfed and suffocated by Darkness. If I could just lay down and fall asleep - and maybe not wake up - I could find peace. If I was awake there was no peace to be found anywhere. Someone was always talking. There was always something annoying me. Small problems became big problems, big problems quickly grew grossly out of proportion.  I couldn’t rest. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t settle myself. Everyone in my path was in danger of my wrath.  Those were the times when I was no longer myself.

It was one of those times when my otherwise mild-mannered husband finally reached the last of his patience.  I lost control. I don’t remember what happened to prompt my outburst but there was yelling, throwing, kicking, and screaming – all on my part.  He was done.  He was ready to divorce me. He loved me but he just couldn’t live with me anymore. He couldn’t take it anymore. Either I got help or he was leaving. 

I was curled up in bed with my eyes clamped shut feeling as though I was literally caught in a spinning black drain and I remember thinking, “Just hold on to the edge, don’t let go.  Whatever you do, don’t let go or you’ll be sucked in and lost forever.”   I opened my eyes and there was my husband crying and begging me to get help. He was laying next to me telling me how much he loved me and how much he needed his wife back because he didn’t know where she went. 

All I could do was cry.  I was broken inside.

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It’s been a well over a year since I began seeing a psychiatrist and taking medication for Depression.  I also see a therapist.  Therapy is harder than anything I’ve done on an emotional level – like surgery without benefit of anesthetic.  So much digging and digging into parts of my life and feelings I’d rather leave untouched can sometimes feel like I’m going backward instead of forward, but eventually it all makes sense and I see progress in myself – that’s a good feeling.  Even small progress is progress, right?

My children see a difference in me.  They didn’t understand what was happening to me when I was breaking down, they only knew I was upset and angry all the time. But now they see I’m happier and I love them.  I can enjoy them, talk to them, laugh with them.  They come to me with their problems, share good news with me.   They know I’m on medication and under a doctor’s care for Depression and it’s important they know they can talk to me about it.  It isn’t a secret.   To be honest, I’m a glad they’ve seen me go through this battle – not that it’s over, it’s a process of healing – because they’ve seen what it is to have a mental health issue in a personal way, and maybe it’s taught them to have compassion for others who deal with similar issues.   

My marriage survived the Darkness.  I suppose when my husband said, “In sickness or in health…”, he really meant it because he’s still here and he makes sure I take my medication, remember my appointments, and he’s been a part of my therapy when it’s been appropriate.  He’s never judged me or been deliberately insensitive about my Depression. A lesser man would have left but he’s stayed with me, stood by me, laughed with me and cried with me.  

We all have good days and bad days, but at least now I can take the bad days without making them worse.