The depression crept up to me …
I still remember a dream I had some time ago: somebody grabbed me from behind, held a knife to my throat and told me not to scream. If I think about it today, I notice: even my depression has crept slowly and unnoticed from behind me. Then she grabbed me and shut my mouth. Even if I wanted it, I could not have screamed.
Instead of going to the doctor, I stamped my physical and mental condition as a bad phase that would pass again. I tried to stop thinking so pessimistically and solve my problems with optimism.
But it did not work. I could not sleep at night, my thoughts rode the carousel. During the day I was sad, powerless and tired. There was panic in me when I left the house or walked among people.
My bed became my best friend. Not only the shutters of my room were permanently lowered, I also had no access to my good feelings. All my courage, all my zest for life left me. Suddenly I was faced with all sorts of fears, I was restless, my head gave no rest. I often became ill, had pain in the arms and chest, and often tachycardia.
I did not talk to anyone about my grief, did not want to burden anyone with my “little problem”.
Other people had made it worse, I thought. I was also ashamed.
At some point I knew: I need help if I want to survive
And so the bad feelings piled up in me. My feet felt like lead and only carried me from A to B with great difficulty. I did not eat enough, my circulation kept failing, and I worked like a robot, without any feelings. To the point where there was only one thought in my head, “If you want to survive, you need to seek help now.”
But with great persuasiveness, the depression tried to stop me. Like the little red devil sitting on his shoulder. He shouted, “You’ll never make it, you’re nothing to this world! Without you, she would be a better place! “And I believed him.
My depression silenced me. But there was still a little will and the last bit of hope in me. For the rest of my life, hiding from the destruction of depression, I pulled myself out of the dark ravine and sought help.
The therapy helped me to my feet
I did a therapy, first inpatient, then outpatient. If I could not walk a part of the way myself, I was pulled up and carried for a while until I could stand on my own again.
I learned a lot about myself: who I am and what I want. I have learned to understand myself. And I got pills that helped me getting up in the morning and sleeping in the night.
It was a tough fight and it still is. But for the first time since the diagnosis, I’ve managed to turn the voice of depression down in me and loosen her grip. Often it is tempting to give in to her, but I have understood something very important: she is only a part of me and not I am part of her. Depression no longer just throws me back in my life. It also spurs me on to make the best of the here and now and become the best possible version of myself every day.
And yes, when the voice of depression gets louder, that’s okay too. Because that’s part of it too: to learn that even bad days are okay, to accept them and to take good care of themselves. To accept that there are things in life that you can not change.
I have learned to accept my illness
And I no longer have to be ashamed to say, “I have depression “. It’s a disease I did not choose and that nearly cost me my life. I am grateful to have met people who treated my illness seriously and did not consider it a weakness.
Once I said to my therapist, “They saved my life.” She just said, “No, I do not have that. They saved their own lives. ”
Today I can say that she was right. Although there are many advances in my life, there are some limitations that I have to accept. But in the end it’s like this: In my life I will not spend so much time with any human being as with myself. Wherever I go, I always have myself in my luggage.
And the question “Where do I go if I can not stand myself anymore?”, I would not ask myself anymore. I prefer to call the fight to depression. I no longer give her the power to determine where my path leads. It will always be part of the backpack on my journey. But I have learned to deal with it.