Depression worked out pretty good for me

Ok the title is probably a bit of an exaggeration, I would have happily done without getting depression, but understanding it and the other mental illnesses I was suffering certainly helped me in the long run.

I had been a cop for about nine years when I was diagnosed. Yes I had seen death, dealt with life threatening situations, been through a long list of failed relationship, worked super long hours, and had run-ins with senior bosses who weren’t keen on my “sometimes you have to play outside the rules to get results attitude”. I was a policing stereotype all the way. I found myself working at a remote island station that was rife with violence, it was there that I got diagnosed.

One night I had been dispatched to a job and in the course of making an arrest, one of the offenders spat blood in my face that ended up going in my eyes and mouth. Now the first thing you do after that is you go get a blood test, that didn’t help me because I have always been terrified of needles. So that experience alone kick-started a great deal of anxiety along with the thoughts of “what if I’ve caught something bad?”

At the time I was having a very bad time with my officer in charge, him and I were not getting on. I was single, and not dealing with a lot of things. I remember going to the Doctor at the hospital to get my blood tests a few days later, he read that the results were all clear and I burst into tears. It was one of the more awkward conversations I have had in my life. The Doctor was great and decided he would start asking me more questions and talking about things.

“It sounds like you’ve got depression”

I remember him saying those words and thinking “I don’t understand what that means” then we started to talk about what it meant. Yes, I did struggle to socialise with people, I did just want to stay in bed all day, I did get upset by minor things. I felt I should at least talk frankly and said that while I didn’t consider myself suicidal, I did remember thinking that if I got stabbed or shot on the job that wouldn’t be a bad thing. He offered to write me a script for antidepressants and my macho non-understanding brain kicked in, I refused, just as I refused his offer to write me a medical certificate to stay off work for a couple of weeks. I didn’t want to be perceived to be a malingerer.

I left thanking him for his time, took some pamphlets on depression and figured I would deal with it my own way. I went home and thought about what we had talked about, I was taking my time to process it. Finally, I rang one friend who had gone through the academy with me and was now a pharmacist, I told them what the Doctor’s diagnosis was and their response shocked me.

“Yeah, I kind of figured you were depressed.”

Got to be honest, that knocked me more than anything else. We talked about it and they said that they had seen a lot of signs over the years, not months or weeks, years! They just didn’t know how to bring it up with me. Over the coming weeks this was going to be a common theme from my colleagues and friends. Everyone thought I had been depressed for a long time, but nobody knew how to talk to me about it.

I’d been embarrassed to talk about it until I found out that so many of my friends had also been dealing with similar issues. Perhaps one of the best conversations was with another cop that had been a friend for many years. We talked about his battles with depression and then I mentioned how the Doctor had offered me a script for anti-depressants and I had refused. He told me something that stuck with me. He had gone to his long-time Doctor when he was diagnosed and his doctor had also offered to prescribe him anti-depressants but he refused. His doctor replied

“Ok, so if you came into my office and you had a broken leg, and I told you to take these pills, you’d take them pretty easily. But because I’m saying your brain has an imbalance of chemicals and you need a hand to get yourself together you say no?”

My friend talked to me about his road from there. Understanding that the anti-depressants were not there to take away the depression, but were a way to help him get through the day until he was better able to deal with everything. It really was a watershed moment. He talked about how critical exercise was for him, and the need to eat properly and get sleep (two things that cops don’t do that well).

I went back to my doctor and agreed to try anti-depressants, but first I wanted to fully understand any possible side effects. The doctor started to list all possible side effects:

Nausea

Vomiting

Fatigue

Erectile dysfunction

Dry mouth…

“Whoa what was that?” I asked. “Dry mouth?” he queried. “No! erectile dysfunction? If I’m not depressed already, I’ll be more depressed if I have that!” The doctor appreciated my humour, he went on to explain that those were all possible side effects and not every anti-depressant was a good match for everyone, and I may need to try a couple before it worked the way I needed.

I was lucky and the first one I tried worked pretty well. But long term I knew that I’d have to walk away from policing which was a career I had come to love and had always assumed I would do until the day I retired. I left and moved to a government job. Alas, the depression didn’t leave and I found myself struggling.

I ended up going back to a Doctor and then a psychologist who advised that in addition to the depression I also had PTSD and anxiety (I like to call it the ham, cheese and tomato). I decided to try going to a psychologist, and that worked for a lot of reasons, but there were probably two main reasons it was successful.

1. I could talk openly and honestly about a lot of things. What I had seen, what I had done, what had been done to me. I could talk in a safe space without any obvious judgement but learnt some coping mechanisms.

2. I met the woman who is now my wife because her sister was my shrink’s receptionist. Being in a supportive relationship meant that I had someone to help me when I fell on my journey to get better. I had someone who could tell me to go for a run if I need to get rid of some anxious energy. Also, she knew I was nuts when she met me so that's really on her.

My parents are old school, it was hard talking to them about it. My Mum cried when I told her I had depression and was going to a psychologist. I have never had a close relationship with my family, so that shocked me. I remember thinking “Wow, Mum has got some empathy after all”, that was until she explained the reason for her concern.

“I know that these shrinks always blame the parents. It’s not our fault you’re like this.”

I explained to Mum that this wasn’t about her, it was about me learning to deal with things better. That placated her. But of course my shrink and I ended up identifying that there were a lot of things in my character that could be attributed to my folks.

It was a very long road, one that I think I’m still on. I like that I can talk openly and honestly about what I went through and what I learned. I’ve seen too many friends suffer from the black dog; I try to help them now where I can. I think it’s my duty after others helped me get through.

I learnt that I’m stronger than I thought, and that I’m lucky to have amazing friends. I wouldn’t be here today without them.