Take away the shame of the stigma… Here’s my story of how I defeated my depressive symptoms…
In September 2018 my brain changed. I knew something was wrong but I couldn’t fathom what and would think about everything I’ve learnt and compare my symptoms to my prior knowledge.
Over the years I’ve had CBT, counselling, attended Mind and even an acting group to help my symptoms but nothing was taking away the days and the nights I would cry myself to sleep.
I had positive opportunities going for me but my brain just was a blur of confusion – like a sponge soaked in past instability and traumas.
At the age of 20 others started to notice I was depressed and I was put on fluoxetine which worked for me and I managed to get to a good level of stability. In 2015/2016 this no longer worked for me and I couldn’t understand why.
I was reluctant to try anything else as had a bad reaction to the fluoxetine when attempted to try it again and was diagnosed with seretonin activation syndrome in August 2018.
A few weeks before my brain changed I was sleeping a lot more than usual and I honestly thought the depression would never ease.
Well it has. It has intensively.
No I’m not ashamed that I was unwell, I’m ashamed of how my mental health condition affected me at the time but you know what… Sertraline is working for me after six weeks and I couldn’t be more grateful… there IS a treatment for depression.
That’s when I realised the biological aspects of mental health were not understood. But one day they will be so others can get the help they need.
Sometimes we have to stand up to what we believe in. So if you see me being positive thank Science 🧪 🙌
One night I sat there contemplating my ‘depression’ thinking why do I feel depressed when I have many things going for me? Why do I experience mood swings and shifts in my perspective? Why I feel lost without a source of comfort in times of need.
I thought up an idea as I was researching how to ease anxiety…
Create a personal project:
So how do we measure mood? Well, the answer is quite simple…
1. Create a two week routine diary and template recording sleep patterns, medication
2. Add a column and a row with the title mood
3. Add a column and a row with the title situation
4. Record your moods in the column
Don’t forget to add the times and dates!!
The aim of this exercise is to establish whether sociology factors are responsible for the way you feel or biological factors. It helps to distinguish between biological mental health and sociological mental health.
In order for others to have their voice heard there needs to be change and there will be change. We need less discrimination in society and more practicicalities to aid individuals with the necessary life skills to be able to do well with their life. Some people want the help and some people don’t. The first step in getting help is to ask. That’s exactly what I did except was met with “I’ve gone through a lot in my life Natalie, what do you want help with today?” – my mental health crisis. Why would the changes in my brain be related to life events – yes a life event triggered it and I don’t drink or do drugs and the impulsivity of BPD decreases over time so I suggested it was complex ptsd instead although my views weren’t heard and it was put down to the one diagnosis I always had. This has made me realise the austerity in relation to mental health and instead of reacting I’ve accepted their views because voicing my feelings and opinion isn’t going to work with mental health professionals. They don’t understand sometimes that not everything is related to life events although they can be triggers. BPD is a mood disorder and does have suicidal thoughts and mania that rapid cycle within a day. I’m so glad I’m at a level of stability. Either that or I’ve been misdiagnosed but either way I’m proud of myself for getting through the suicidal moments 💗
This is his story.
He walked towards the mirror and knealt down on the night of a full moon, it’s reflection mirrored in the glass. He stopped. His inner evaluative speech triggered his thoughts to reconcile the attachment developments he experienced as a child as he remembered all he had courageously fought through; the mirror having no idea of his hot cognition and the thoughts scraping within his frontal lobe, illogical but overwhelming in deep thinking and solitude.
His eyes were an ombré hazel with a white grey lining, luminous with a dark purple centre. His hair an eerie black, full and fine, flowing discreetly past is pale crimson forehead. His nose, a burnt shade of red, pressed against the pane creating a smear of condensated matter.
He peered more deeply.
It wasn’t a mirror or a glass – it was an icy pool of cold moods, his tears icicles of winter snow, his body a sculpture of stillness. It wasn’t a shop window he was peering into – it was a frozen lake. The lake. The lake of death as they call it. The lake that takes the minds of many suffering so quietly, so elegantly, the lake that has created blessings, the lake a pool of a thousand diamonds. Diamonds that couldn’t speak up about their feelings. Diamonds that so swiftly declined and deteriorated due to the pressures of living within a tormented mind with a soft soul. His soul a powerful reminder of his pressured self-esteem – his body so bare.
Oh how someone would help him, but no one could be seen.