I found this on my news feed today:
“…DOH Secretary Paulyn Jean Rosell-Ubial who is a staunch advocate of mental health assured the audience and the media that, “This time, mental health programs will be prioritized. For many years, it has been in the backseat and now many Filipinos are suffering silently from the stigma and disabling effects of mental health conditions.” (From wheninmanila.com)
It reminds me of about one of the topics my friends and I talked about recently.
The discussion was about depression when I arrived at a get-together with friends. And so I went to tell them that I was seeing ropes to tie around my neck and hang myself when I had the worst depression episode.
Having experienced “depression” kinda feels like a badge of honor to me, except that I could not display and show it off around. I mean it’s like going to war, and somehow be able to come out alive from it.
On a serious note, yes, depression is real. Before that, I used to think depressed people are just “emo’s;” or it’s something like 1st world problems. It’s like “hello, there’s greater problem like hunger and war than you being gloomy just because you can afford it.” (And I guess this reaction from unknowing people drives the depressed people deeper into their depression.)
Until it hit me. I don’t know how it goes with other people but to me depression was like “drowning in a cyclone; however I tried to rise up, I was pulled down.” It can get to the point that I felt tired to be constantly pulling myself up that sometimes how I wished it would just literally drown me.
The thing was I just had Mateo at that time, plus the 2 older kids. I could not wallow in it. I need to be functional. I need to look happy. I was aftaid to rub it on my kids that I forced myself to be happy. That feeling of having that that sadness eating you in the insides but you have to be all smiles and cheerleader on the outside; it’s crazy.
It was probably a case of post-partum depression. I tried very hard to wing it, but there were times that it would really gnaw into the very inside of me that I could not get hold of it. I was desperate of finding a psych doctor or any thing of their equal because I felt I already need to take meds just so I could at least get a grip, to not totally lose it. I was afraid that I would snap.
I could not run to my friends because they did not understand why I was depressed. They would keep on telling me that I have kids and family, and thankfully was/is blessed, “why would I be sad?!?” Getting this kind of feedback and comment from friends would drive me more into depression, of feeling guilty of why I could not be grateful of the life I had. So it was like getting depressed of on top of
why I was depressed, of why I could not be thankful, of why I could not help myself, of why I was so f@cking weak!
I guess my depression was also because having yet another baby plus 2 more toddlers, I felt like I was stuck while everyone was moving forward. Most of friends were still single, and busy with their career while my daughter drew me as the woman at home who was always waiting — waiting for them to come home from school, waiting for the father from work. At least she did not drew a tree with a rope beside the house.
Depression can sometimes be numbing that sometimes I would slap myself just so I could at least feel pain. Feeling pain is better than feeling depressed, or not feeling at all. There’s that invisible itch of numbness that I did not know how to reach it, and so I would end up slapping / pinching myself.
Funny that when I finally found a mom who experienced post-partum depression forgot the name of the meds she took. How more depressing it was?
So you get an idea why drug / gambling addicts may be depressed people.
Of how I did get out of my depression?!? It was violent, and Mark would probably deny it. Mark and I went into a bruising fight. I was probably at that numbest with that invisible itch that I needed to reach so I annoyed him (It was probably my way of asking that needed help.) to the point that we hit each other. We had that cheap plastic rack which we got hold of. Took it apart, and use the “poles” to fence each other.
It’s embarrasing to say that I got out of it looking like a physically battered wife. But I welcome the pain over that sh!t feeling of depression.
Anyhow, to cut the story short, it somehow got Mark’s attention that something was really wrong with me. It also got my attention. So we kind of work on it.
Then I guess the lesson I get from it is that MY HAPPINESS IS MY RESPONSIBILITY. IF YOU LOVE SOMEONE, YOU DO NOT BURDEN THAT SOMEONE OF YOUR HAPPINNESS. Of course, it would be a bonus if that someone can give that happiness or that “you complete me.” In short, the best thing you can do to your love one is to self-fulfill your own happiness and it will rub on them. But Of course, sometimes, you need that help.
So yes, it will be really nice to have that depression hotline however 1st world pain it may sound. I would have definitely use it.