A (not so) brief history of my depression

Where do I start? The 'real' start in 1995 or the diagnosis in 2002. I guess it would probably be good to keep things in order, though in reality being diagnosed so late and looking back to try and analyse stuff cause a lot of trouble and confusion. My mind is a jumble and sieve like at the best of times so trying to remember details from 7, 10, 15 years ago isn't the easiest. Well here goes...

I had a happy childhood, living with my parents and 3 brothers in a small village in Devon. I was the 3rd son and enjoyed an active time. Although not much of an extrovert I was pretty outgoing and enjoyed lots of activities such as cubs, scouts, youth club and lots of team sports. Life was ticking along quite nicely until September 1995 when my brother Pete was involved in a car crash. He was 19, the 2nd child and my idol. I was a few years younger approaching my 14th birthday and just looked up to him in every way. He was popular, a really good footballer and great at graphic design and art. Then one saturday lunch time on a drive back from the local city to the village his friend who was driving lost control on some wet leaves. Details get sketchy then but they car went into a spin and collided with a car coming from the other direction. The impact was straight in to the front passenger, Pete. The paramedics never thought he would survive and he died several times but he kept fighting. He was in intensive care for a while and I later found out the doctors there had said he would be in a permanent vegative state. Again Pete fought through and went into a waking coma before coming out of it after 3 months. That then started a long road of physical and occupational therapy but he ended up with independence. Eventually he moved in to a bungalow and then a house on his own in the village (though he still got all his washing and cooking done by us or our nan!) but was left in a wheelchair. He also suffered some brain injuries, he was still as smart as ever but his memory and concentration suffered. One thing he never lost through the whole thing was his sense of humor.

So life obviously changed for all of us. Life revolved around Pete and his recovery as it had to but my parents done their best to make time for us all. Me and my younger brother still got to play football with my dad driving us to games up to 3 times a weekend! I became more withdrawn at school but I didn't particularly worry about it. People didn't know what to say to me about Pete so they said nothing at all. I understood that and just stayed with a small group of close friends.

Over the next few years life carried on. I struggled at college, started to miss days and assignments. It was put down to boredom and my teacher said I was 'gifted' but I never got my act together and ended up with no qualifications and moving in to employment. I just put it all down to 'normal' adolescent naivety and didn't think too much of it apart from be incredibly mad at myself for an opportunity missed (being mad at myself is a recurring feature through my life, sometimes deserved but mostly not).

Things continued in a similar vain until 2002 which was a big year in my life. I started working at the Inland Revenue (now HMRC) which was a secure job and seen as a decent career. I also got married and we had our first daughter Bryony. My wife had quite a difficult pregnancy and birth and was diagnosed with post natal depression. I thought it was a bit strange as all of the 'horrible and disturbing' thoughts she was having seemed normal to me. I was always thinking of things like what would happen if I stepped out in front of a bus driving by. I would imagine the scene played out in minute detail. I wouldn't want to do anything about it, I would just imagine it. At least most of the time. So off I went to talk to the doc and I was diagnosed with depression, given some drugs and sent to see a psychological nurse. At various points in my treatments I have also been diagnosed with post traumatic stress and social anxiety.

The first set of drugs I was on made me in to a zombie. I couldn't think too well and just about functioned most of the time. I went to see the psych nurse and we talked about Pete and my social issues. I seemed to get a grasp of things and was discharged. Things were good for a little while but sooner or later things got bad again and it became apparent there were more troubles and issues in my life. This became quite a cyclic affair. Seeing a psych of some sort, talking through one problem and then getting discharged only to come back again later. I don't blame the psych's for not getting deep enough, they have far too many patients and most of them in a worse state than me. If I'm not going to hurt myself or others then I drop down in priority. I also had a large tendency of having a single line of thought so once we started on one issue it became the only issue to me. I thought about it all the time and how I could beat it. Then therapy would end and other issues would creep back in. But I wasn't ready for them, I didn't know enough, I hadn't spoken about them with the psych so I would freak out and begin another downward spiral.

So that was the pattern over the next few years. Up and down all the time. In 2007 I moved to the other end of the country where my wife comes from. 430 miles away from my family and leaving my secure job at the Revenue. I thought with 5 years of office experience with a government agency and some very good points on my CV I would find a little office job without too much problem. Wrong. I applied for lots but mostly I didn't even get a reply from employers. After around 6 months of unemployment I got a job working at a local holiday park cutting grass and picking up litter. 6 days a week of physical work. I lasted around 4-5 moths before I cracked and had to go on to sickness benefit with my depression. With all the stress piled up I became a recluse, scared to leave the house, even shutting the doors and curtains to the front room and just staying there all day, in my safe place. I would hallucinate at times, had a strange continuous shaking of my arm and started to self harm.

These was probably the lowest I have ever been and things were very up and down again, I was also off and on seeing psychs for a short time before being discharged or stop going myself as I felt it was doing more harm than good. Around 2009 I started on my current medication. After the first zombie medication I had mostly stayed clear of tablets as the side effects seemed worse than the symptoms they cured. My current medication hasn't really had any side effects for me though so have been a true god send and help me out a great deal. The last psychologist I saw over 2010/11 was also the best. He wasn't able to get too deep in to things but we were a good match. He seemed to get me and I understood his methods. We never went back to look at my issues but together we built an armory of defensive measures for me to use.

I'm currently the best I have felt since before Pete's accident. I still get my low moods and bad days, especially if I miss a few tablets but on the whole I'm a lot more positive and feel more like 'me'. Whatever that means.

I think I will leave things there, this post is plenty long enough! I will write a bit more about my recovery and improved positiveness in my next post. If you have any comments or questions please add them, I'm happy to talk about anything to do with this.

Thanks for reading!

Jon