MHM Magazine

By Rose Buhr I would never be so brazen as to compare depression to a terminal illness, but there were many instances in my life when I wished I could swap my condition for something terminal. At least with a terminal illness, people would understand, and perhaps more importantly, there would be an end in sight. Even death would be far preferable to the daily, ongoing struggle of living with depression. The casual misuse of the term “depression” by others belittles its gravity. Phrases like “I feel so depressed today” often trivialise the real struggles of those with the condition I was blessed to be born into a loving family, the last of three children, always knowing I was loved. My first real episode of depression struck without my knowing it was depression. I think I was about twenty-seven years old, navigating the complexities of a young family, a job, a difficult marriag, and a busy life. I became acquainted with an overwhelming sense of dread. There was a tight, sick feeling perpetually lodged in my stomach, coupled with heart palpitations that made me think I might be having a heart attack. This oppressive weight ebbed and flowed over the years; I would feel slightly better, or even happy at times, only to be blindsided by the “downs” again. I longed to be normal, never realising the worst was yet to come. Each day blurred into the next as I battled waves of hopelessness. Other symptoms began to rear their heads, and yet each time I fell deeper into the abyss, I pushed myself to keep moving forward. I didn’t really have any option -life required that I turned up every day. One particularly anxious Saturday, I went to work as usual. The ride there felt torturous. Upon arrival, the anxiety morphed into confusion and I could hardly recall why I was there. Suddenly, I felt faint and nauseous; my mind became a muddled mess of desperation. I sought refuge in the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and taking deep breaths, but it didn’t help. Fear washed over me like an uncontrollable tide. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital bed. A nurse informed me I’d been admitted four days earlier, yet I had no recollection DEPRESSION LIVING WITH... MHM | 2024 | Volume 11 | Issue 4 | Living With Depression MHM Issue 4 | 2024 | MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS | 33 MHM