MHM Magazine

of that time. The days I spent in the hospital were a blur of drips and drugs that left me floating, disconnected from my identity. Guilt gnawed at me for having left my children in the care of their nanny and family members during my time of need. I’d wanted to be the best mother possible, but I felt sad, withdrawn, and entirely consumed by my condition. Living with someone who suffers from depression is a daunting task. I have come to realise that families, partners, and friends need as much support as the sufferer does. Thank goodness these days SADAG offers support groups for them too, to help them understand that they are not alone in facing this relentless demon. I know people who have said things to family members during their darkest moments that can never be taken back. If you find yourself in that position, remember it’s history, but you can apologise. It will help mend fences and allow you some peace as well. Your family and good loyal friends will always forgive you. After my hospital stay, I endured a constant cycle of chasing different medications. The quest for relief became a tumultuous journey through numerous treatments and self-help strategies—exercise, diet changes, and more. Nothing worked; the black cloud loomed, always threatening to steal away any joy I experienced. People who haven’t walked this path believe depression can be dismissed with a simple “snap out of it.” They don’t understand that during a depressive episode, one is trapped in a consuming blackness, and the idea of ‘keeping busy’ is beyond comprehension. Throughout this tumultuous journey, I often clung to the belief of having reasons for my despair, unwittingly soaking in the sympathy from others. It took a long time to confront and break that cycle without knowing it I’d become a “victim”. My children grew up into lovely young people and I eventually, after twenty-eight years of marriage got divorced. I was convinced I’d be fine now. After all, my unhappy marriage was over, I was master of my own world - but alas no! That newfound freedom others raved about was lost on me. Well-meaning friends and family preached the importance of going out, being social, and keeping busy, yet, there I was, feeling lonelier in a crowded room than I ever did at home. By this time, I’d taken the crucial step of seeing a psychologist and a psychiatrist regularly. If anyone tells you that therapy doesn’t help, it’s likely they haven’t found the right therapist yet. My psychologist turned out to be a lifesaver, paired with effective medication that finally made a difference. Admitting, “I suffer from depression” takes courage. It was necessary though, for me to begin healing. Accepting I’d have to rely on medication long-term felt like a failurebut recognising my condition needed chemical support was vital. Why is it so easy for someone with diabetes to take insulin in public, yet we hesitate to disclose our reliance on vital mental health medications? The tides of depression still rolled in and washed out, each bout bringing its own despair, leaving me susceptible to emotional ruin. There came a dark day when I contemplated suicide. The prospect of facing another day felt insurmountable. I stayed silent, terrified of the thoughts swirling in my mind. Somehow, I didn’t act on that impulse, but the memory of that despair remains stark and haunting. That moment of reckoning lit a fire within me. I immediately sought help again, realising that this situation couldn’t be ignored. Maybe next time nothing would stop me taking my life. Healing doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a journey that requires patience, understanding, and the firm belief that better days are ahead. I had to learn to grant myself license to feel less than perfect. Some days would be dark, but I had to understand that they were merely part of the journey. Finding my foothold in a new life was challenging, as I dreaded each downturn, but I became determined not to let depression define me. I learned to appreciate each day's blessings, understanding that dwelling on the past and worrying about the future only drained my energy. I was supported by an incredibly loving family and still am. I am now a support group leader for SADAG for individuals going through the mental trauma of separation and/or divorce. I get immense joy out of giving back to the community and I am also constantly reminded how blessed I am when I hear what others are going through. Even so, I am aware that hard times will return. Joy and sorrow coexist, and the lessons learned from painful experiences fuel my understanding of joy. I’m no longer a depression sufferer; I’m a depression survivor. References available on request. MHM | 2024 | Volume 11 | Issue 4 | Living With Depression MHM 34 | MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS | 2024 | Issue 4 H