GOODBYE CRUEL WORLD…
“…I was standing on the edge. I longed for a new beginning. But I couldn’t look down, no I couldn’t look down. I am a coward…”
When I started typing this a few months ago; it was supposed to be a suicide note -My final love letter to the world. I never wrote anything beyond the title because I never really had the courage to kill myself.
So what does it feel like to be a coward living with depression? Let me tell you: I heard that my friend had taken his own life and the first emotion I felt was envy.
That’s when I made up my mind to get professional help. But it wasn’t until a while later that I actually followed through on that decision.
BRIEF HISTORY
“…By design god gave me feelings; and by design they shall not kill. But when the noises overwhelm me; I feel sure that they will…”
I’m not sure I can accurately describe depression, but I’ll try. Depression isn’t sadness -I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been truly sad in my adult life.
Depression is nothing. It’s an emptiness. A void in your soul that sucks up all your energy leaves an empty husk.
Depression is everything. It’s feeling everything at such extremes that you want to shove a blade into your ears to stop the noise in your head.
Lol I know, I have a penchant for the melodramatic. Let me try again.
I’ve never been a person who felt a lot of things. Joy, happiness, excitement, sadness. These were things I’ve always felt fleetingly, if at all. There were two emotions I’ve always been capable of feeling though -anger and fear. I have a temper that I’ve always done my best to keep in check. I’ve managed it carefully for years. The fear, however, not so much. I randomly have these spells where I feel nothing but sheer terror at nothing in particular. These spells of fear would visit randomly at any time of the day. I could be out with friends and all of a sudden a wave of fear would hit from nowhere. At their very worst, these spells would make their way into my dreams. So for a considerable part of my life: I have been scared to fall asleep. That sucks right? Tell me about it.
I’ve always known there was something wrong with me. Genuine, everyday emotions aren’t things I’m familiar with. I knew it wasn’t normal so I taught myself how to simulate. If someone tells me something, I tell myself this is something I’m supposed to be happy about; then I’d simulate happiness without actually feeling it. Same for sadness, joy, jealousy, etcetera. You know, the everyday stuff. I simulated so much that I began to overcompensate. I always had to be the loudest voice in the room, the life of the party. First name on the invite list for the turn up. That’s me.
But you can only keep an act up for so long. Pretending in real time is exhausting and ever so often the real me would show up. “Mood swings” is what my friends called them. So that’s what I called them too.
“This Gershom sef. I never see man wey get mood swing like woman before”
“My dear I thought I was the only one who noticed”
This was a conversation that happened while I drove my friends around some years ago.
There’s this emptiness I feel. It’s difficult to explain. It’s just a long silence frequently punctuated by fear or anger. So that’s who I am when I’m not simulating -silent, afraid, angry. “Mood swings”.
MENTAL & PHYSICAL HEALTH
“…A million voices screamed in my head; and I felt sure that I would give in…”
When your brain isn’t healthy, the rest of your body starts to suffer too. I’ve always struggled with sleep. Can only sleep for a few hours, wake up tired most times. This lack of proper sleep eventually affected my blood pressure which my psychiatrist described as “too high for a person of your age”. Sleeping aids didn’t help much. Even extra strength melatonin pills would make me sleep longer but the quality of sleep would be so poor that I would wake up more tired than I was before I slept.
My concentration and focus had gone to shit. I couldn’t read or focus on anything for longer than a few minutes.
There was also the constant lethargy. I’ve been tired for 90% of my adult life. That’s not hyperbole. I mean that very literally. I’ve taken all sorts of supplements: vitamins, iron, all those Wellman things. None of it worked. A few months of antidepressants and I’m sleeping better and feeling energetic through most of my day. We’ll get to that later.
OPENING UP, SEEKING HELP & SUPPORT SYSTEMS
“…And though I struggle through the days now; it helps to know that you are listening…”
Opening up about my mental health was(and still is) really difficult. People aren’t generally equipped to deal with stuff like this and it’s unfair to burden them with it and resent them when they don’t say the “right” things. I had to constantly remind myself of this whenever I felt that resentment creeping in.
The first of my friends that I ever opened up to about thinking I was depressed said “But Koko we aren’t white people.” And sent me self positivity articles. Resentment crept in.
Another said “You have everything. What could you be depressed about?” Resentment crept in.
When I spoke about my fear of seeing a professional because I didn’t want it to be confirmed that I had a mental illness, I got told “you’re not special unfortunately everybody has something going on with them”. Oh boy, the resentment.
Of course there was the constant “I’m here for you if you need anything” which I found to be just as annoying as the the other stuff I got told. I worked hard to let that resentment go.
When I felt like I had reached rock bottom, most of these same people came through for me, recommended therapists, insisted I saw a psychiatrist, etc. So in the end, they saved my life, even if they didn’t know the right things to say.
Friends are important. A big part of healing is having people in your corner rooting for you.
The first night I had to take my antidepressants, I was so nervous because I read up on all the side effects and thought I would basically die in my sleep. My friend showed up and stayed and watched me all night. Others checked up on me regularly.
I told another friend I was finally getting professional help. They got in a flight from Abuja to Uyo then took a bus to Calabar at night(because some people just refuse to learn their states and capitals. Bloody illiterate) to come stay with me. Others checked up on me regularly.
So here’s to having support systems. I owe a debt I will never be able to repay. Thank you all so much. I love you.
The next step after writing this is to find the courage to open up to my own family. I’m lucky enough to have loving and supportive family but every time I try to say anything about this, I freeze and feel a knot in my throat. One day I’ll find the courage. Maybe not today, maybe not anytime soon. One day.
Spare a thought for me please because I will be forced to consume a shitload of anointing oil.
TREATMENT & RECOVERY
“…Oh liberation comes in whatever form to save me…”
I fully believed I had reached rock bottom. I was in a constant state of fear. I told my friends that I believed I was going to die soon. The emptiness I felt was the loudest it had ever been. It was deafening. The punctuations of anger and fear were even more frequent and even more intense. I was fully losing my mind. And then I got a message from Mentally Aware. It was basically mental health first aid. The therapist didn’t do anything special. They just listened. And I talked and talked and talked. To a stranger who wasn’t judging me or saying the “wrong” things. It was helpful. I felt the emptiness loosen its hold just a little. It was an infinitesimal looseness, but it was the most relief I had had in weeks. Then I was sent a chart of the 9 classic symptoms of depression. I experienced 7 of them fully. Regularly. Daily. 7/9. 78%
Mama, your boy got an A in Mental Illness.
They requested I journal my feelings. I’ve never been a journal person so this is an alternative, I guess. Then I was urged to seek further professional help. I sought out a psychiatrist and within 5 minutes of our first consultation, where I explained everything I felt and experienced, he had already brought out a prescription sheet.
An antidepressant, something to aid my sleep and hopefully bring down my blood pressure and something to aid my concentration and other cognitive skills which had gone to shit.[I have intentionally not named any of the medication I have been put on because someone reading this might feel the urge to self medicate]
I had lost interest in and passion for most of the things I loved. Music, novels, comic books. Etc. Only things that endured were football and my loved ones.
“That’s good. As long as there’s still something, anything, then there’s hope” is what the doctor said.
If there’s anything you’re still passionate about, that you still love -no matter how little- then there’s hope. Please remember that.
Okay. Let’s talk about antidepressants a little.
Good god almighty. Whoever came up with those things is an asshole of gargantuan proportions. They pack quite a punch. For the first few weeks they doubled my lethargy and gave me constant anxiety attacks. They took everything I was already feeling and made them worse. “Keep going” the doctor said, “they’ll kick in soon”, he assured me and sure enough, one day, just like that *SNAP* I was sleeping better, I had energy all day and all night. I have had at least 3 times in the past month alone where I have forgotten to sleep. It’s basically “Oh. The last time I slept was Saturday night and it’s Monday now. I should force myself to sleep.” Zero fatigue or lethargy. How do you forget to sleep, you ask? When I meet the people who made these things, I’ll ask them.
My “mood swings” were less frequent. Still happening almost daily, but less frequently and shorter lasting. Instead of four, hour-long episodes; I’d gone down to maybe two 30-minute-long episodes daily. I cannot begin to quantify how much progress that is. There were times when the episodes would last for days on end. Now when I do get those long lasting episodes, they never exceed a day. I’m also sleeping better. Did I already mention that I’m sleeping better? Well, I’m sleeping better. I slept for ten hours once. Five hours, woke up, forced myself back; another five hours. I cried when I woke up finally. I don’t know why, it just felt like the appropriate thing to do.
Don’t get me wrong, there were side effects. Most glaring one is going 48 hours without the need to sleep, which wasn’t helping my blood pressure situation at all. There was also the panic attacks. And cravings. The weirdest cravings. Not just for food. For most part of a week I had the strongest urge to climb a tree. The doctor talked me out of it.
And there was my libido. Seriously I need to fight whoever invented antidepressants. I would go weeks with zero libido. No sexual interest whatsoever. Then I would walk past a random person in the mall, sniff their hair and instantly have a rock hard erection that I would have to hide with a shopping trolley. YOU CHOOSE TO SHOW UP NOW? WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN FOR THE PAST FEW WEEKS???
I got hard while watching a couple of houseflies mate once. That’s something I’m going to have to resolve with my psychiatrist much later. If you know whoever invented antidepressants, tell them to come fight me.
It wasn’t only medication. I was advised to go off social media while they tried to identify and eliminate my “triggers”. Eat better, avoid stressful situations, etcetera.
I’m much better now. So much better. The doctor has signed off on taking me off my medication. He’ll reduce my dosage gradually over the next few months until I’m completely off them. It’s been one hell of a journey. I’m really not sure what I was aiming for as I was writing this. There’s so much I left out, there’s so much I want to say but it’s already an incredibly long read.
So yeah, if you read this and found it relatable; please seek help. I know it’s difficult. Trust me, I know. But the first step is the hardest. It gets easier from there. Hold on to your support systems, avoid unhealthy coping mechanisms(Easier said than done, I know) and reach out to people and bodies who are equipped to deal with mental health issues. You’ve got this.
