Depression is Not Darkness to be Hidden

Hey guys, this is a personal post and not something I have ever shared on here before. But I think it’s time, in light of what has happened in the writing world.

I am willing to stand up and say, yes, I suffer from these monsters.

I wasn’t always like this, once upon a time, I was outgoing, extroverted and pretty much a ball of awesomeness that was happy to ignore what the world thought of me.

I had dreams and visions, and I was going to live them to the fullest. I had children and I had hardships, and I fought every battle from the front line as they came.

When my second born was diagnosed with Autism, I said ‘Good.’

The doctors were horrified, but I had a reason then. I knew I hadn’t screwed up as a parent, and we could work with an ASD diagnosis. We had this.

Then on February 6th, 2007, something happened that I couldn’t fix. I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, I could not make the situation better.

You see, on that horrible day, that should have been one of the happiest of my life, I had to say both hello and good-bye to my son.

His name was Thomas Archibald Lewis Miller.

That was the beginning of my descent into madness. A madness that I would not even recognize for months.

You see, I took charge. That’s how I handled my grief. I bottled it up inside and locked it away and did what needed to be done.

FYI, that’s not healthy.

Six months later, I had lost a lot of weight, wasn’t sleeping, was surviving on coffee and then came the chest pains. I thought I was having a heart attack.

Off I went to the doctor. Not because I was concerned about my health, but because I had two young boys at home, and I had to keep going.

I couldn’t die and leave my husband to take care of them. That would almost amount to child abuse.

Well, I wasn’t having a heart attack, what I was having was stress-related physical symptoms. My chest was tight and heavy, I could barely breathe. I thought I was going to fall over at any moment.

I was diagnosed with Stress and Depression and given Fluoxetine. I was on those little green pills for a few years. By the way, you don’t stop taking your medication because you feel better. If you do feel like you are in a place where you can stop, then you talk to your doctor and you are weaned off them. Stopping medication cold turkey is never wise. Been there done that, it puts you straight back to step one.

However, I did come off the pills, even had another baby in 2012. She was a surprise! My whole family was on pins and needles my whole pregnancy. My kids were wary, as they knew that last time, the baby died.

In fact, my eldest would not have anything to do with my pregnancy because he didn’t want to become attached in case the baby died.

She didn’t, and all is well… well you would think that. Evidently, even though I had been off the medications for a few years, and I was doing well… something wasn’t right. It started with me justling blah… I can be bothered today.

That turned into an empty not caring stage. I was still able to carry on my day-to-day life, I didn’t really “Feel” anything.

That’s when the light bulb went off, and once again, I took myself off to the doctor, and they put me back on medication. It was the same as before since they worked last time.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t responding as well this time. My emotions were all over the place. The slightest thing could upset me, and I would crawl into my bed and hide.

Then came the Anxiety. She is an evil bitch, no two ways about it. It got to the point that I couldn’t even put my son on the bus. I would have a panic attack just trying to go out the door and put him on the bus. My poor husband had to take over morning school duty.

We went together back to the doctors. By this time, I was a nervous wreck. He went in with me and held my hand, otherwise, I don’t think I could have even made it to the doctors. This was after I had been to therapy (group). I couldn’t even finish it, I started having panic attacks. I would get half-way there and turn around. My head would start spinning and the cars around me felt like they were pressing in on top of me. I was terrified I wouldn’t even be able to drive home.

When we went into the doctors, she made me have a mini panic attack. I remember grabbing my husband’s hand and holding on for dear life.

She asked if the children were being taken care of.

I freaked. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind. She’s going to call child services. They are going to take my kids away. I came here for help! OH GOD, I should have never come.

Thankfully, my husband was there, and he told her that he was there and that yes, the children were being cared care of.

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