Firstly, can I say thank you so much for the emails I received as a result of my article last month. And apparently I am not the only person you know with a mental illness! I feel very honoured that some of you shared your own stories with me and the response was just a small indication of the importance of opening up these conversations about mental health, particularly depression and anxiety. For those who would like my email address it is kazsynnott@gmail.com
Also please feel free to share my blog with any family or friends who you feel may benefit www.writestrong.blogspot.com.au
Last week I had the honour of speaking at a Lifestyle Expo. As often happens, one on one discussions take place once the formalities are over. I was asked an interesting question during a chat with a member of the audience.
If there was one message I could give to the general population in order to reduce stigma, what would that message be?
Now, I am not known for thinking on my feet but, strangely, my answer popped straight into my head.
I would like people to know, in their hearts and in their heads, that depression is NOT a choice.
I guess this popped into my head because during the week I had commented on one of those ‘inspirational’ posts that came up on Facebook. The words of the post said “happiness is a choice. Every single day you make a choice”.
I disagree. And I said so. I even advised that the author should think carefully about the language they use. (I am sure they were grateful for my advice -NOT!) A number of responses followed mine. Some agreeing with me and others asserting that happiness was DEFINATELY a choice.
What do you think?
I definitely do not want to be a voice of gloom but I know that thoughts like these tortured me.
I constantly berated myself for not being happy. I SHOULD feel happy. I SHOULD feel grateful. I SHOULD look on the bright side. The list of ‘SHOULDS’ was endless. But all of these thoughts imply that I had a choice. So that then left me carrying huge guilt because I COULDN”T feel any of these things.
Think of it like this.
If I had a broken leg would I be telling myself that I SHOULD be able to run and jump and hop and skip? No. I would know that I COULDN”T do these things whilst my leg was broken. Would I feel guilty? No. Is it likely that anyone would tell me that I just needed to change my thoughts and I would be able to run and jump and hop and skip? I doubt it. What about if I just ‘cheered up’? Could I run and skip and jump? I don’t think so.
So, what is the difference?
The difference is that some people believe it is a choice to be depressed. There are no clinical tests to confirm it. When I was first diagnosed with depression it was a relief that at least there was a name for how I was feeling. Strangely, this was reassuring to me. It would have helped with the guilt if I had scans to show the physical ‘proof”. But I knew nothing about depression. I wish I had. It would have made a difference. How sad.
I am sure that if the general population understood this one concept of lack of choice then stigma may lessen. Perhaps empathy may even replace impatience. Understanding instead of cynicism. Education and conversations like these are the solution.
But there is something that IS a choice.
And that is – seeking professional help.
When I was diagnosed by my GP I had no idea of what was happening to me. All I knew was that I felt like I was imploding. That I had no control of anything in my life. The feeling that I was shattering into a million pieces. I was crying uncontrollably. And I was frightened by the way I felt. Frightened of what was happening to me. Frightened of what I was feeling. Once diagnosed I was put on medication. Diagnosis at least means that you can start making a plan and therefore taking back some control in your life. Not everyone needs medication. For some people things like exercise, changing your diet, being mindful and giving yourself a break from stressful triggers if possible is enough to turn things around. Diagnosis also means that you have started building your support system. My support team includes family, friends, my local doctor, my therapist and my psychiatrist. No matter who we are, and what challenges we face, we all need our support team.
I was trialled on a variety of different medications. Unfortunately, I became very ill very quickly and was hospitalised in an attempt to get the right medication and the right dosage. Over this and another two lengthy hospitalisations my condition was still not stabilised so ECT began. Electro Convulsive Therapy (used to be known as Electric Shock Treatment) has a new level of stigma all of its’ own. It is a last resort treatment where a brain seizure is induced in an attempt to release important hormones in the brain which are missing when a person becomes severely depressed. I had over 50 ECT treatments and eventually my condition was stabilised. Just like people with other chronic illnesses my condition is very well managed now with medication and lifestyle changes. Just like someone with Type 1 diabetes needs their insulin and someone with asthma needs their inhaler, I will always need medication. And that’s okay. I also make sure that I eat well, exercise outdoors regularly, have regular sleep patterns, connect with others and, of course, I have my support team.
As hard as it is, seeking professional help is the only way to go. And, just like with any other illness, the earlier we seek help, the earlier treatment can begin and the better the outcome for everyone. Would you hesitate to seek professional help if you broke your leg? What a ridiculous question. Of course you wouldn’t.
Would it be a sign of weakness? Another ridiculous question.
So be strong. Be Proud. Ask for professional help. For yourself or someone you know.
And be proud of yourself for doing so.
