March 2019
It's always hard to decide where to start when telling this story.
My name is Andrea and I am 46 years old and I have Major Depressive Disorder, commonly known as "Depression". I just learned my actual diagnosis yesterday, but that is another story for another time. Today I am going to tell you the story of my first episode that got me this diagnosis.
For all intents and purposes, I have had a good life. My father was a career soldier and my mother a German citizen. When I was 6 months old, we moved to the US for 3 years and then back to Germany where we lived until I was 9. My parents were quite doating. I have 3 brothers and 2 sisters but only lived with my older, youngest sister.
To say she and I were opposites is an understatement. She, being 6 years older than me, was always annoyed by me and quite competitive. I am certain my parents never intended for us to be competitive but they certainly didn't help matters. When my parents met and married in the 1960's, my mom already had my sister in tow. She was a beautiful little baby. I don't think my mother ever wanted to have any more kids but my dad didn't have any of his own and he loves kids. So, in 1974, I was born and if my math is correct, I was conceived around their anniversary 4 years after they married.
My dad tells me stories about the day I was born and they always make me laugh. It's clear to me that he was overcome with joy when I made my appearance. My sister on the other hand... she was not happy with my arrival. At 6 she was already contemplating murder and things have never been amazing between us. Outside of that my life was good.
My dad and I have always been very close. When I was in high school, he and I would meet for lunch at least 3 days a week. I dated a real asshole in high school and I had typical teen angst and sadness. I very likely had my very first depressive episode in high school but I would certainly not qualify it as "MAJOR".
After high school I met and married Scott. We married a month and 5 days after meeting. I was 18 and he was 21. 4 years later we had our first son. He was the apple of my eye and became the most important thing in my life. At that time, Scott had been sent on an overseas tour that we were unable to accompany him on. He left when our son was 3 months old and didn't see us again until after his first birthday. During that time, I was diagnosed with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). The psychiatrist recommended meds but I refused. I really didn't need them and was going to power through this. OCD would not control me; I would control it and I did!
Eventually Scott and I had 2 more kids. Today they are 24, 18, and 15. We are all very close and they are still the apples of my eye.
So, as I have said, for all intents and purposes, I have had a good life.
That isn't to say there weren't things that contributed to my diagnosis but I am not here to lay blame. I am telling you the story of my first Major Depressive Episode.
March 2019- Typically I am a very strong person so this took me by surprise. It seemed to start out of the blue and it took me a few weeks to realize what was going on. I was 44 years old. At the time I thought it was my thyroid meds. I had taken a break from them because I wanted to make sure I was on the correct dose for myself. My thyroid is "sluggish", certainly not what most doctors would prescribe meds for. But because we all know that not everyone is built the same what is normal for one person is not normal for another. It took 6 weeks to get a clean baseline reading of how my thyroid was functioning on its own. Those were a tough 6 weeks and it became very evident to me that I needed my meds. The good news is we could lower my dose. About a month after I was back on the meds the decline into depression was in full swing.
I am a very social person. I love a great conversation and spend a lot of time talking to strangers. People fascinate me. I have a nice eclectic group of friends. When I suddenly stopped going out, it certainly surprised them and it didn't take long for them to notice I was missing from their lives. I was too busy at home doing absolutely nothing. They'd call, I wouldn't answer. They'd text and ask if I was ok. I would say yes, just busy. I remember thinking I would like to go out but at the same time thinking I would like to go to bed. The running joke was that my bed was calling my name. Did you know, you can still joke and laugh on the ride down? There is this push and pull on the ride down, it is hard to describe. The first ride down to the bottom can happen over days, weeks, months or even years. Mine took several months to hit rock bottom. I don't even remember what was going on outside of I would go to work, come home and go to bed. I lost 15lbs in about 3 weeks. I felt nothing. Nothing at all, which is far worse than feeling sad. I will take sad any day of the week to feeling nothing at all.
I recall my co-workers being very careful around me during that time. I might have cried once or twice at work. One of my closest friends sent me flowers at work just to remind me she loved me. I only remember this because I posted it on Instagram. Looking back through those pictures I can see how numb I was and how desperate I was to feel something. I posted pictures of people I loved and appreciated. I feel like now I was trying to say good bye.
On June 11th, I posted "I want off this ride." There were only 2 options at this point, get help or... yeah. Mind you, by that time I had a few of my friends tell me I was in a sand pit that I couldn't get out of alone. Remember, I am a powerhouse, meds didn't seem like an option for me. Depression would not control me; I would control it. But this time, this time I was completely broken. I had been completely depleted of whatever chemicals I needed to get myself out on my own. It owned me and the only choice I had was meds or death.
The nature of life is we are born to survive and we will fight for that survival. I call that time in my life "the dark place".
I am telling you this story because depression can happen at any time in someone's life. Most people I know that are surviving depression have had it since adolescence. I have not. Many people have had a traumatic event that kicked it off. I have not. Every depression story is different. Does that make my story any less than someone who did have those things? No, it's just as valid and painful for me as it is for anyone else. I write my story because I know there are others who are out there who don't have a "reason"; at least not one that would make sense to the average person. That doesn't make your story less real or less valid. I have often felt guilty for not having a "reason". I do have "reasons". Mine are a million little things that added up to break me. None with enough power to break anyone on it's own; collectively though, they broke me. They took decades to break me. The result is still the same... Major Depressive Disorder.
My name is Andrea and I am 46 years old and I have Major Depressive Disorder, commonly known as "Depression". I just learned my actual diagnosis yesterday, but that is another story for another time. Today I am going to tell you the story of my first episode that got me this diagnosis.
For all intents and purposes, I have had a good life. My father was a career soldier and my mother a German citizen. When I was 6 months old, we moved to the US for 3 years and then back to Germany where we lived until I was 9. My parents were quite doating. I have 3 brothers and 2 sisters but only lived with my older, youngest sister.
To say she and I were opposites is an understatement. She, being 6 years older than me, was always annoyed by me and quite competitive. I am certain my parents never intended for us to be competitive but they certainly didn't help matters. When my parents met and married in the 1960's, my mom already had my sister in tow. She was a beautiful little baby. I don't think my mother ever wanted to have any more kids but my dad didn't have any of his own and he loves kids. So, in 1974, I was born and if my math is correct, I was conceived around their anniversary 4 years after they married.
My dad tells me stories about the day I was born and they always make me laugh. It's clear to me that he was overcome with joy when I made my appearance. My sister on the other hand... she was not happy with my arrival. At 6 she was already contemplating murder and things have never been amazing between us. Outside of that my life was good.
My dad and I have always been very close. When I was in high school, he and I would meet for lunch at least 3 days a week. I dated a real asshole in high school and I had typical teen angst and sadness. I very likely had my very first depressive episode in high school but I would certainly not qualify it as "MAJOR".
After high school I met and married Scott. We married a month and 5 days after meeting. I was 18 and he was 21. 4 years later we had our first son. He was the apple of my eye and became the most important thing in my life. At that time, Scott had been sent on an overseas tour that we were unable to accompany him on. He left when our son was 3 months old and didn't see us again until after his first birthday. During that time, I was diagnosed with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). The psychiatrist recommended meds but I refused. I really didn't need them and was going to power through this. OCD would not control me; I would control it and I did!
Eventually Scott and I had 2 more kids. Today they are 24, 18, and 15. We are all very close and they are still the apples of my eye.
So, as I have said, for all intents and purposes, I have had a good life.
That isn't to say there weren't things that contributed to my diagnosis but I am not here to lay blame. I am telling you the story of my first Major Depressive Episode.
March 2019- Typically I am a very strong person so this took me by surprise. It seemed to start out of the blue and it took me a few weeks to realize what was going on. I was 44 years old. At the time I thought it was my thyroid meds. I had taken a break from them because I wanted to make sure I was on the correct dose for myself. My thyroid is "sluggish", certainly not what most doctors would prescribe meds for. But because we all know that not everyone is built the same what is normal for one person is not normal for another. It took 6 weeks to get a clean baseline reading of how my thyroid was functioning on its own. Those were a tough 6 weeks and it became very evident to me that I needed my meds. The good news is we could lower my dose. About a month after I was back on the meds the decline into depression was in full swing.
I am a very social person. I love a great conversation and spend a lot of time talking to strangers. People fascinate me. I have a nice eclectic group of friends. When I suddenly stopped going out, it certainly surprised them and it didn't take long for them to notice I was missing from their lives. I was too busy at home doing absolutely nothing. They'd call, I wouldn't answer. They'd text and ask if I was ok. I would say yes, just busy. I remember thinking I would like to go out but at the same time thinking I would like to go to bed. The running joke was that my bed was calling my name. Did you know, you can still joke and laugh on the ride down? There is this push and pull on the ride down, it is hard to describe. The first ride down to the bottom can happen over days, weeks, months or even years. Mine took several months to hit rock bottom. I don't even remember what was going on outside of I would go to work, come home and go to bed. I lost 15lbs in about 3 weeks. I felt nothing. Nothing at all, which is far worse than feeling sad. I will take sad any day of the week to feeling nothing at all.
I recall my co-workers being very careful around me during that time. I might have cried once or twice at work. One of my closest friends sent me flowers at work just to remind me she loved me. I only remember this because I posted it on Instagram. Looking back through those pictures I can see how numb I was and how desperate I was to feel something. I posted pictures of people I loved and appreciated. I feel like now I was trying to say good bye.
The nature of life is we are born to survive and we will fight for that survival. I call that time in my life "the dark place".
I am telling you this story because depression can happen at any time in someone's life. Most people I know that are surviving depression have had it since adolescence. I have not. Many people have had a traumatic event that kicked it off. I have not. Every depression story is different. Does that make my story any less than someone who did have those things? No, it's just as valid and painful for me as it is for anyone else. I write my story because I know there are others who are out there who don't have a "reason"; at least not one that would make sense to the average person. That doesn't make your story less real or less valid. I have often felt guilty for not having a "reason". I do have "reasons". Mine are a million little things that added up to break me. None with enough power to break anyone on it's own; collectively though, they broke me. They took decades to break me. The result is still the same... Major Depressive Disorder.