For going on twenty years, I showed strongly, felt deeply, questioned, and tried to investigate what I didn't realize were what about 15 million people go through every year: the signs of depression that have now been researched, therapeutically investigated, and now have successful depression treatment.
Before I realised that ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) was the heaviness weighing me down exponentially every day, along with the symptoms of depression, I had a hell of a time staying on focused on the now in the real world.
I was dragging my (emotionally and physically) corpse out of bed, where I would've rathered stay.
Finding it futile to make my bed, as I would just be climbing into it again.
I found most outings and daily activities--those that used to inspire me--dull, useless and dead boring! Definite depression signs.
I was moany and bitchy.
Sometimes, more than a few times actually, I would reach the point of crying.
In fact I reached the stage that I would cry at least every day, and even every hour! The symptoms of depression became overwhelming and unbearable.
I would look in the mirror to maybe have a shave, and would hear the cold voices in my head, almost very confidently, straight to the point say, "Well, you may as well do yourself in now, kill yourself, what else is left.
" My manic depressive life was saying to me death was the ONLY option and solution available.
I had battled for years to exercise by powerwalking 5 miles a day; write, journal, help others, pray, meet people, diet, sleep it off, burn it off by not sleeping, go to twelve step programs, and visit a counselor or therapist.
One of the first therapists, a brilliant doctor who volunteered at a clinic in the country, told me that while I pontificated over being clean and sober and not being medicated, I was like the person who walked through a rough part of town at three a.
m.
, got stabbed, and stood there philosophizing about whether or not to get medical help.
He said, "You have a hole in your heart; we need to fix it.
"He prescribed Prozac.
Before I realised that ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) was the heaviness weighing me down exponentially every day, along with the symptoms of depression, I had a hell of a time staying on focused on the now in the real world.
I was dragging my (emotionally and physically) corpse out of bed, where I would've rathered stay.
Finding it futile to make my bed, as I would just be climbing into it again.
I found most outings and daily activities--those that used to inspire me--dull, useless and dead boring! Definite depression signs.
I was moany and bitchy.
Sometimes, more than a few times actually, I would reach the point of crying.
In fact I reached the stage that I would cry at least every day, and even every hour! The symptoms of depression became overwhelming and unbearable.
I would look in the mirror to maybe have a shave, and would hear the cold voices in my head, almost very confidently, straight to the point say, "Well, you may as well do yourself in now, kill yourself, what else is left.
" My manic depressive life was saying to me death was the ONLY option and solution available.
I had battled for years to exercise by powerwalking 5 miles a day; write, journal, help others, pray, meet people, diet, sleep it off, burn it off by not sleeping, go to twelve step programs, and visit a counselor or therapist.
One of the first therapists, a brilliant doctor who volunteered at a clinic in the country, told me that while I pontificated over being clean and sober and not being medicated, I was like the person who walked through a rough part of town at three a.
m.
, got stabbed, and stood there philosophizing about whether or not to get medical help.
He said, "You have a hole in your heart; we need to fix it.
"He prescribed Prozac.
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