Personal stories about getting life back from depression are what this site is all about. To make a more prominent place for them, we’ve started a series of posts written by folks who have learned how to live well despite depression. The series is still new, and so far there are a few personal narratives written for this site. They’re listed below, along with several posts describing recovery experiences by well-known figures who have written about their lives with serious illnesses.
This section will grow as further stories are added and as readers use the comments to describe their own struggles. Visitors like you have added immeasurably to Storied Mind by contributing hundreds of insightful comments, but they’re hard to find. This section will serve as a more accessible spot for stories about learning to live well again.
Tom Wootton’s Story: Finding Ecstasy and Equanimity in Depression
(Tom Wootton has been advocating a radical change in the way we think about depression and bipolar for several years. One the most challenging ideas he has put forward is that depression can be integrated into the comfort zone of living and even become a beautiful experience. To elaborate on what he means by this, […]
Judy’s Story of Depression and PTSD
In this post, Judy tells her compelling story of lifelong depression and PTSD as well as her gradual healing and recovery with the aid of innovative therapies such as hypnosis and EMDR. Background As is the case with many people who live with depression for a number of years, it’s wreaked havoc on my marriage […]
Jocelyn’s Recovery Story
Every now and then a reader offers insights about his or her own recovery story in the form of a comment on a particular post. As I did with Peter’s story, I like to give them more prominence by re-posting in the blog. Jocelyn offered this summary of how she was able to overcome a […]
Peter’s Recovery Story – Part 2
Be sure to read Part 1 of this self-help recovery story about the development of Peter’s depression from childhood through the teenage years. Adulthood I moved a lot, even from country to country, but soon learned that the escape was merely temporary. My old self was following wherever I went, but moving about and keeping […]
Peter’s Recovery Story – Part 1
Peter told his recovery story as an extended comment recently, and I wanted to give it a more prominent place as another in our ongoing series of personal stories. Because of its length, it will be posted in two parts. During the last ten years or so, whenever the emotional roller coaster of my life […]
Struck by Living – A Memoir of Depression and Recovery
Julie Hersh wrote two versions of Struck by Living about her struggle with suicidal depression. She ended the first one with her hike to the top of a New Mexico mountain in a symbolic celebration of her recovery. A happy, triumphant ending. She bound the manuscript and sent it to dozens of her friends. Then […]
Recovery Stories: Tony Giordano
Every story about depression is a little different. But when you can see the big picture, a lot of parallels start to appear. Although I had gone through some rough spots here and there, my life was moving along alright overall until depression struck in my mid-forties. When I learned I was clinically depressed, I […]
Recovery Stories: Donna-1
Depression became my constant companion early, about age 8. I suppose I had as dysfunctional a family as most, although children are often not aware of the level of dysfunction till much later. Then they realize much of what goes on in life is predicated by their childhood. I’m not seeking to place blame on […]
Tony Giordano’s Story of Depression and Recovery
Every person who has lived with depression has a unique story to tell, and I’ve read or listened to dozens of them since starting this blog. Rarely, though, have I found a narrative that so closely parallels my own experience as Tony Giordano’s does. It’s Not All In Your Head: Unearthing the Deep Roots of […]
John’s Recovery Story
A recovery story is a messy thing. It has dozens of beginnings and no final ending. Most of the conflict and drama is internal, and there’s a lot more inaction than action. The lead character hides in the shadows much of the time, so you can’t even see what’s going on. I joined up with […]
Hello everybody, you can call me V. My depression story begins way back in high school. Everybody says that a depression has to be triggered by an event, but not even now can I put my finger on one event that could have changed my life so drastically. I will start with the story a bit sooner than the moment I actually started taking medication so as to give a better picture of the setting. I entered high school in the best public school in town and in the best class (mathematics computer programming with English language intensive learning) as my mother and whole family wanted. You see, it was not up to me to make such important decisions, actually I never minded it, i am just a lonely girl that did her best at school, although I did fight with my parents periodically and on different matters. I was somehow at peace with my life and I did not know what I liked and if I did, I did not do much in that in that direction. I guess I pretty much obeyed the rules. I was a child living in the present and I was pretty confident. The future never concerned me in a real dramatic way. We never talked about it, there were no real plans as to what I knew. The first thing that shook me was getting lower grades than I was used to although I was doing my best as usual. I think it was too much for me and the demands of the teachers a bit too high.
I remember being very stressed and concerned with my grades. I used to ask my colleagues a lot of questions on different school subjects but I never actually asked for help directly. Then my mother sent me to take private classes in computer programming, it was pretty helpful, being one of the subjects that I had trouble with. However, it was Math that scared me the most. The teacher was very strict and scared me a lot with his though behavior. Most of the helplessness and fear came from not mastering the subject well enough, as if I was disarmed in a battle, although his behavior was pretty rather despicable. He called us stupid, sometimes all of us, sometimes individually or he implied it. I personally felt inferior and guilty. I remember when I had my first paper graded F, I called my mother crying that I need private Math classes. But I come from a poor family that did its best with the everyday tight budget it lived on. So I did not get the private classes. Maybe it was better, apparently the teacher made pretty much money from giving private Math classes. Nonetheless, this situation was revealed later on, I was still in junior high troubled by the fact that I did not get the high grades I was used to, stressed with Math and computer programming. I also stopped playing volleyball as often as I used to after school. This robbed me from something that gave me physical and, little did I know, mental health. In our country not many practice sports. It had to do with the fact that those who did usually did it for prices or medals so they did it at a very high level. It was a way for poor or modest children to get the best of their talents. Don’t imagine a was a great performer though, I am only 5′ 2″ . But I put passion in it.
So one day my mother takes me to a neurologist, I had no idea what illness that type of doctor treated, nor did I know why I was there, but I did understand something was wrong. Well apparently, there was nothing neurologically wrong with me, but afterwards followed a visit to a psychologist, a family acquaintance. The thing that impressed me the most was the fact that the lady had almost only white hair and a pleasant face which to me seemed too young for all the white hair. What I also remember is the yellow covered book she used to give me a test. It was an intelligence test. I asked for the results (as you already noticed, being smart is very important for me…) but she only told me that I am smart enough, what that means, I surely don’t know. I continued to go to the psychologist and talked about my problems in school. Somehow, I did loosen up, to be honest I don’t know how or why, I really don’t recall anything special from our appointments. I was kind of living on the thrill, but at least I did not spend my time bothering my classmates for help or trying to find solutions for sophisticated Math homework. I ended up copying the homework from some classmates every next day at school, in the breaks, while eating my sandwich. I did the same with some of the English homework, another subject at which we were supposed to excel.
So, the years passed hastily and I found myself in the last year of senior high. The big scares started right from the beginning of the year, when every teacher with no exception warned us that it would be a difficult year with all the graduation exams at the end of it and that we had to strive. No wonder one could crack under such pressure. It was a very busy year. I started taking private Math classes (with some other teacher, not the despicable one) which added to the computer programming classes and to the extra homework for the exams we had to pass at the end of the year. In the meantime my mother had given up on the idea of me studying computer programming at a university in the future when one day she asked how I was doing in private classes and I told her my head hurt from staring at the all the numbers on the computer. Apparently she took that very seriously, though she never really told me anything about her plan for me to study IT. So while the other already young adults in my class were taking classes also for the exams they were going to take to enter the university, I was pretty much just holding on. I did make an attempt (I as in we, me and my mother and my father) to make an informed decision to start a career path I thought I liked. I wanted to get in a Fashion Design School, you can imagine what that meant since I had no real clue of the field beside what I drew on my own. But I was kind of proud of my drawings because they came from me and I enjoyed drawing. The attempt was limited to going to a painter and professor form our town my mother heard about was very good where he tested me and looked over my drawings. I did not get much of the meeting, I think he said I got talent but I don’t remember what emotions took over me or what I was thinking, whether I thought my mother did not give me any chance in this field, but I did not meet that artist again. We also went to visit an Art School in a big city where I could try to enter. I remember the worried expression on my mother’s face and the discussions we had afterwards. She was sure they could not support me through university if I did not get a dorm which was cheaper and depended on the result of the Arts exam I was supposed to take and if I did not get a scholarship. This was pretty much the end of my daydreaming…I just gave up. I remember I threw my drawings in the garbage that year or just after the first year at the university.
At this point I felt pretty lost but I was going to try for a university where I had no exam to pass because it was pretty late to start studying and I was pretty much ok since I was not the only one in my class doing that. I picked the city myself, the majors as well: Business Administration, Pedagogy/Education or Journalism. I was going to apply to all of them so as to secure sort of a state scholarship and not to have to pay for my studies. Here, the best universities are still in the public system but the universities are allowed to have a mixed budget, public plus private, so most of them also offer paid undergraduate programs. That same year my great-grandmother fell ill to bed, being very old and frail. She raised my mother, me and my sister. My mother took her to live with us and she took care of me and my sister all the time because both of our parents had to work. My great-grandmother lived all her life at the countryside so you can guess it was pretty difficult for her to adapt to living in a town, in an apartment at the fourth floor with no elevator.
It was in the month of April when it all happened. I started to feel afraid, so afraid that I thought my heart would race and stop. My mind was overwhelmed with negative thoughts. I was spiraling around the same thought (I found out later that this is called ruminating), I was worrying myself sick. I had no idea what was happening to me. I was afraid of death all of a sudden. I even had thoughts I could not control myself and I would kill my mother with a knife. Finally my mother got concerned enough with my behavior and with whatever little I expressed of my irrational fears and she took me to the lady psychologist. I explained to her my continual state of fear and told her some of my thoughts. She then talked to my mother and I found out I was going to be checked by a psychiatrist the lady recommended. I remember telling the psychiatrist the same things I told the psychologists and then she asked me extra questions which seemed very odd to me, she asked me If I had suicidal thoughts. I was afraid I would commit suicide but I had no thoughts of doing it. Anyway at some point she made it clear she is asking questions to find out if I should take medication or if I can make it without. She diagnosed me with anxiety disorder and wrote me a prescription for Paroxetine and Xanax. She said I had to take antidepressants because apparently anxiety and depression just come together in a package. To be honest I was not very present in those days, I felt not like myself in that period at all and it has been years until I got back even a piece of my old self.
Since then things just got worse for me, from my depressed point of view of course. I was pretty amazed by the zapping I got in my brains as a side effect, the vomit sensations, the dizziness, and the vivid dreams. I stayed a week at home and then I went back to school. It was not the same anymore. A big part of me was much too preoccupied with what had happened to me, it’s as if I was purposeless and helpless and at the same time I was trying to fit back in the world I had just got out of. It was sort of a forceful living, like the people in comas who are kept alive by machines. I got admitted to the university, business administration major. I went, lived in a dorm with another 4 roommates. One year passed, two years passed. Another thing from this period, I was pretty sleepy all the time, it was really unpleasant, I was falling asleep at the early classes and I was not even a party animal so as to have an excuse. Some professors made fun of me, some colleagues as well. I had many relapses and had moments when I was shaking in bed trying to calm myself. I called my mother a lot. My family got pretty concerned with me. Even my younger sister was affected by this. She kept annoying me and telling me that it is only up to me to get better again but at the same time she wrote her final paper at English about depression and even considered studying psychology at the university for a period. I was very in my mind all that time. I made stupid things also like liking two guys and scaring them away with my insistent declarations of my affection. It was pretty weird, from a shy girl who only had platonic relationships to this girl who was too insistent. I was not vulgar but I did annoy them a lot. The medicine apparently numbed me from other fears I used to have as well. Anyway, I still remained a sexually inexperienced creature long after graduating.
I have to mention that during this period I went to a psychologist more or less regularly. I even changed psychologists, but we’ll get there too. My main and strongest relationship based on dependency and strong, debilitating helplessness that I felt due to my condition was with my mother. Sometimes I think I lived through this period also for those around me. I don’t know how to explain this but when I felt bad and not on medication yet, I felt an incredible joy in connecting with others, being around them, as if behind these were horrible thoughts of fear of not being around anymore of not being able to establish relationships.
I was in the second year at the university when my great-grandmother died. I went and saw her just before dying. She died exactly after I arrived and kissed her good-bye… This is not a coincidence. We, my mother, my sister and I were all there with her, her three girls. I was overwhelmed but since I was on medication I could barely cry, this is another effect of the medication has on me. My father was still working in another country and was not there with us. I was not of much help nor was my younger sister. My mother arranged everything. I was sad, but I could not express myself, my happy pills made me euphoric or sleepy. This passed too. In the summer holidays between second and third year at the university I came home and was going of medication. I had taken it for three years already. I hadn’t read too much on depression, I was still on the anxiety side of this whole deal. My expectations were strictly limited to getting off medication and doing what I did before it all started. But my condition got worse when the time came for me to prepare to go back to university, in my third and final undergraduate year. I started taking medication again, this time in a higher dose and she added another medication as well. The diagnostic was depression and the extra medicine was Seroquel (quetiapine). She said it would help me with the thoughts. I’d say this episode was worse than the first one. And it was worst mainly because of postponing so much taking the medication again. I guess we all hoped I was ok again and my mother refused to accept my relapse. So I started my last year in low spirits. My mother came with me when I had to check in at the dorm and she even talked a little with my roommate from then about my condition. Somehow she tried to make me feel secure and to ask for a little more attention for me from my roommate. To be honest, this made a little bit of bad impression on me, I have never been a trusting person. I was scared and more inclined to believe she would talk about my condition with other colleagues and I would just end up feeling ashamed. Despite all of this I had to believe it was a good a idea due to the fact that I was not feeling just fine and maybe she could help me if something bad was going to happen and in order for that to happen she had to be informed.
By the end of the year I had gained an extra 10 kilo’s without realizing. This, I think, had to do with the graduation paper I had to prepare. I was stressed, I even changed my paper coordinator, I felt I could not do what the first one asked from me. It seemed too much, at least what I understood I had to do. It was the first major weight gain I ever experienced. Again I asked my mother’s help, it was another acquaintance of hers who gave me information for my paper, see we had to have something theoretical and something practical, I just complained so much that my mother sent me to this acquaintance. I am very grateful for this lady’s help, it was uninterested. This same year we had our banquet, so many dreams, so many expectations, but the reality was just different. No boy, no special evening. Oh…I forgot, there was this guy that gave me a ride to the banquet. He was more interested in me than I was in him. Apparently some people do have a good grip on reality. I am talking about this guy, judging by our similar heights we would have been a perfectly suitable couple…sex friends. I don’t know… My opinion on our relationship was that I could become more excited when dancing than when I was near him. Not to mention the fact that my libido was very low ever since I started taking the medication, this is another unwelcomed side-effect of anti-depressant drugs. Plus getting pregnant on medication calls for abortion, I found this out while I was checked up by the psychiatrist and a female patient called her telling her she got pregnant while on medication and without even thinking 2 seconds, the doctor told her she had to have an abortion because the baby may have malformations. This shocked me. I just realized I may never have children. I knew none of this when I first started taking medication for depression, neither did I know I would go through depression again and restart the treatment.
I did very good on my graduation paper and continued my studies enrolling in a two year Master’s Program in the same field. The pressure was less in these two years except for the time I did my paper for the Master’s Degree. This was another period of transition, friends, colleagues started to scatter around and relationships ended or faded away. By the end of the last year I had changed the psychologist with one that charged less and I had got through a period of deep worrying when my mother put very much pressure on me because of her worries, she kept pushing me to find something to work, while expressing her worries that I would never be able to find a job because of my condition. It was an awful period. I was feeling hopeless and this just worsened my condition. I went to several interviews but the one I passed was the one posted on a church yahoo group, where people from my church posted announces and communicated. Coming to this point, I have to tell you that many times through the hardships I encountered I ran to the Church, I felt desperate. I experienced profound desperation so many times while in depression. I remember some good priests talking to me and most of them were extremely reasonable and told me that I have to take my medication and keep my faith. I just really wanted a miracle to happen and to put an end to what I was going through. It is so unbelievable how much suffering a depressed person goes through and how little of it the other people can see…because there are no physical evident manifestations. When I was little I had asthma; people could see I had trouble breathing, I took medication and I felt better and that was it, though it was unpleasant having restrictions, but when you are depressed and take medication and see that another side effect is actually depression or relapse when on medication, a lot of things don’t make sense anymore.
I started working. I moved, I moved again and again until I found a place where I rented my own room in an apartment where the conditions were not very bad and I could afford it. The salary was very small, especially at the beginning. Then, when it increased, I could hardly handle all my tasks. I think you know by now I am not a very confident person, I have been lacking confidence ever since this whole drama started. I worked three years for my first employers. I did not feel appreciated or close to them although I wanted to. The company was very small. I was on medication all the time and I was in therapy also. Bad depression episodes recurred. An unusual period began. When I felt bad one winter I went with my mother to the first monastery I ever visited while in high school. I am so glad we went there. It was the first time for my mother at this monastery. We spoke with monk in charge of the monastery, we attended the masses. It was good…after a while. When I was there I was feeling pretty bad. The priests and monks there prayed for me. Here, we give notes with our names and those of our family to churches and monasteries so that the priests and monks or sisters pray for us. I guess it is no surprise given that here hospitals are so old and outdated and you have to buy your own medication although these are public hospitals. Even so, faith has always been part of our lives. I also confessed, got Eucharisty. On the other hand I went to a course for self –development, fell in love, almost made love with this guy, got cheated on, apparently nowadays relationships are mostly open… was hurt. He went back to his country, I was left with a fantasy. Got out of the job because the company was on its descending slope. Then I got depressed, I got another job in a different field of activity, it was only me and my boss. It turned out very intense, I did not get along with my boss or better said she did not get along with me. I did not have the determination, dedication, fast rhythm and almost perfect attention she was looking for. After seven months we ended our collaboration. This was a very big surprise for me, I always knew productivity mattered but given the fact that we were only two I also thought the relationship mattered, but it was productivity first. I am still very hurt and I cannot believe how much this affected me. It was a huge failure for me. Professionally, I considered I could handle things, I could …but I could not handle the fast pace and perfection, they way I was supposed to offer perfect services and make no mistakes. In the meantime I was making unsuccessful attempts to get out of medication without the psychiatrist’s knowledge (never do that!). I was somehow influenced by the psychologist I was and am seeing; she kept saying I could make it without medication… Bullshit… What I learned from this? I learned that when you do not prolong the coming off antidepressants and do not stick to your psychiatrist’s advice you may experience excruciating pain all of a sudden, your body, your brain will react strongly. It is the so called withdrawal effect. I prayed to die and not to do something stupid while I was feeling that pain. It is also true that I also prayed like this sometimes when I was on medication but I was feeling bad.
The present. I am working, I found a job and I did not get back home with my parents. I put in extra hours, the volume of papers I work with is huge compared with I worked until now. I am doing my best, try to keep up. I feel overwhelmed a lot and I am behind with work but I am going to start from the beginning every day. I hope God helps me deal with my work or helps me find another job. I am waiting for a response from another company, it is quite due… I ask lots of questions at work, I do my best. This is very important for me acknowledge and also my contribution, the fact that I want to succeed, I put in extra hours. I appreciate when the colleagues give me answers that help me. Sometimes I am angry when others are inconsiderate or are rude. I have a harsh time when one of my superiors constantly points out mistakes. But I do react, I defend myself and I do enter arguments if I feel things are not fair. I am on medication (high dose), I am pretty fatigued all the time, I am not thinking about ever going off medication unless my doctor tells me to, I live my life one day at the time. It is though, I do not know what the future looks like, my parents are growing old, my sister will have her own family, nonetheless I have to have faith and take my medication, it is not terminal.
Ashley C says
I need advice on what to do about my situation at this point.
I got robbed, kidnapped, and raped this year in January.
I work for an awesome fortune 500 company and make good money but I’m at the point at losing my job.
My supervisor is doing all he can. I have been on phentermine for the last 3 years on and off.
I quit cold turkey 5 mos ago.
My job has been good to me. But I still suffer with depression more now than when it happened 10
I have went on short term dis with my job. But as you know , if you’re not “admitted” or super crazy they (Sedgwick)
Don’t want to pay you. I’m a very strong person. So no I’m not crazy, I’m just realizing that my depression is natural? I guess but My GOD its really getting me. I work from hope all I have to do is roll out of bed and talk to patients it’s a pretty easy job. but I can’t sit there more than 30 min….
I’m screaming at myself as to why I can’t get it together!. I start counseling and don’t finish because I
have to work. I can’t take counseling “FREE” and work because the free counseling is Mon-Friday during
my work hours. Also short term dis is not paying me unless im “crazy”. So im thinking about finding a
new job, but I don’t want to . I love my job and want to move up in the company. Im trying so hard and
im tired. I just started taking “Wellbutrin” (buproprion) it helps a little but not much. I don’t know what
to do anymore. I’m just at lost. Any suggestions?
Barbara S says
what a wonderful resource John and his artist wife have put together! My recovery story is ongoing and – somewhat solitary, as the name of my blog suggests, yet there are similar themes I find, a love to life and beauty, a depth… that resonates with me. so I hope some of my blog will speak to others, too.
I feel like Ive lost it all….
I met my now absent partner in february 2013. After being alone with my three children for almost five years.
I wasnt looking for love and had just found the beauty of life and got myself to a happy place.everything was going well…studies, career, the children.i was stable and confident and so content.
When i met AJ i was reluctant to let him into my heart and home.More out of caution and wanting to be certain of my feelings but the LOVE was overwhelming and innocent.it was beautiful in everyway.Everyone complimented us as a couple and were happy I had the love I deserved but within six months it began to unravel.
I will spare the details but the root of our troubles began with his changeable Jekyl and Hyde personality and Jealousy.He would accuse assume and create things that werent true and began disappearing. At first for one night after a crushing phonecall where he stated he didnt care about my kids and i was using him and lying to him.he came back apologetic and remorseful.i forgave as it was clear he was grappling with some immense troubles from recent and far past.
Then he did it again for three days.no contact at all.came back head shaved saying he was sorry and he has issues.
From there I sought support by research and encouraged him to try and make some friends and make time for some hobbies and interests that might keep his sense of selfworth and confidence up.
We shared and bared our souls.He is the most beautiful spirit when he is well but the Houdini acts came quicker and more frequent and lasted longer each time.
The impact left me and my children in a constant state of anxiety and our unit began to fragment.
We tried to be understanding and supportive encouraging and proactive but nothing seemed to prevent his symptoms
Though i grew to know them well and he clearly resented the fact i knew him so well and could intuitively pick up on his moods and energies.He spent alot of time in denial.Despite diagnosis and seekibg support.He didnt maintain and took off again shortly after starting a college course.
This time the blow was severe.my children were waking during their sleep crying and having nightmares,bedwetting, acting out and blaming me and themselves.One child even lost some hair and i was floored completely.
When he disappeared his family treated me like an insignificant outsider and didnt even respond to contact or ask how me and the children were.
It lasted two months on that occassion.During which AJ declared himself as getting his own place and a new job and seeing his own children.Basically blaming me for his actions and he didnt want me anymore.
I was devastated and it triggered eating disorders id not suffered with for years and my weight soared from alcohol abuse and i began taking antidepressants.i also took up smoking excessively and spent most days and night writhing under my duvet in agony at my heartbreak and sense of betrayal.
Then out of nowhere he returns determined to stick to meds andctake up therapy to make it work.
I was very hesitant and uneasy.I longed for it to be true and allowed him more space.he became more honest and open and then i found out whilst he was away he and his ex and mother of his two children had been slating me and lying about who i am.He even cussed my children and the tried to make me out as evil and preventing him from seeing his children.I couldnt believe it.It felt like a knife had been driven through my heart and soul.I helped him regain contact with his children.Lent him the car, money,opened my home and boughf things for them.I saw them as an extension of him.I felt so derply hurt but…that wasnt all…i then found out him and the ex had spoken about how they wished theyd married eachother.
From that moment my selfesteen evaporated and my weight incline rapidly the drinking got more frequent and i felt myself pull back.
The man I thought I knew who constantly feared abandonment rejection betrayal lies cheating deception and hurt had now ripped away any trust I had left and had done all of those things to me.
He promised he was with me to get well and couldnt explain why he said and did what he had but apologised and understood it would take me time.
Next went the sex life and affection.I felt myself spiralling into anxiety and depression rapidly.
Then just as home life and my health worsened he left again.At my hour of need he abandoned me and the kids again!
He stayed in touch for a couple of days and then shut me out.last i heard he said he had time to gain perspective and realised he wanted time apart.This mean what? Its over…im dumped like dirt…he needs space? What about me and the children? Why cant he call or visit? Why just disappear.His family again arent helping.not checking to see how we are and this man and i have already come through so much.can he not see im a good woman who would have stuck with him through it all?
Im crushed but darent show it around the children wgo are beginning to miss him terribly and ask questions.
I get it…if he wants time to adjust to meds and therapy that he should have more time apart but to cut us off after all weve endured feels selfish and heartless.like we have been discarded and used.
Its like I cant have a bad phase and feel down because of his emotional torture and as soon as things get tough he runs.
If he loved me surely he would not act like this.I dont know if he will come back and if he does when it will be.i dont even know if he can change or if i should let him go.
But one thing i know is i love that man with all my heart and all my soul and so do my children but am i going to hace to choose for theirs and my sake?
Help me please 🙁
Emma, i hope my reply isnt too late yet..im deeply sympathetic because I am seeing a lot of myself in you. Ill go straight to the point…ur sequence is wrong…ur solution, the sequence is wrong…before anything else LOVE YOURSELF FIRST..before you entertain the though of loving your kids and that man….please trust me on this coz this made a whole lot of difference…LOVE YOURSELF FIRST.. What will happen is a realization of what YOU deserve..everything else will fall into place…you can start after a year or some months or you can star Now
Hello to everyone! A month ago I ended my relationship a two year and a half relationship with my boyfriend. Since I met him he was already diagnosed with clinical depression and since there is still little information on how family and lovers feels, react and understand depression, I started a blog to share my experience. I hope you can feel identified with my story and it can give you enough encouragement.
ENGLISH VERSION: http://valkanae.wordpress.com/
SPANISH VERSION: http://historiasdelperrogris.wordpress.com/
I had lost my love and happiness form my school days and still had pain which lead me to depression
priscilla james says
I was raised in a good home. My parents always worked hard to help us kids. My family comes from Jamaica, but I was born here in the United States.
I take a lot of pride in my family’s heritage. Growing up was hard because I had left a private school called Mt. Zion in Utica, New York and began going to public schools. I was very nervous and I struggled throughout high school always wanting to fit in and be popular.
I hated myself because I was living a life no one would imagine. I was unsure of myself and afraid. I told some of my friends growing up that I struggled with identity issues. I lived a separate life not knowing what to do. My parents’ marriage was failing and my father was abusive to my mom.
My mom got enough courage to leave him even though she lived in fear. She remained strong and never gave up hope that things were going to get better. This was all going on when I was 16.
I had dealt with some abuse when I was about 12. I always held it inside because I was ashamed. I had many friends, some who gave up on me and walked away because my lifestyle was out of control. I was drinking a lot, partying more than ever. I got into doing drugs and that’s when my life changed forever.
I started getting so heavily into drugs that I started getting very depressed. My relationships weren’t always the greatest and I would always pull away. I broke hearts. I lived my life in chaos. I had lost jobs over the years. I always felt alone and that no one could help me.
I’m 26 years old now. There was one person that always made me feel like I was alive and that was my high school sweetheart. I knew I loved her more than anything in the world but I turned her world upside down. I never could forgive myself for that along with many other things.
I was a broken soul that needed lots of help and on October 15th, 2010, I did the scariest thing you could imagine. I overdosed on pills. I also had cocaine and beer in my system. I wanted to die so bad and, well, I did.
My mom went upstairs and she found me with a note, passed out slowly dying. I had burned my face with a cigarette. I’d left a letter telling my mom I would never fit in and that I had identity issues for a long time. Well my mom called the ambulance were she works and they rushed me to the hospital. That’s when everyone in my family waited to hear my fate.
Well my mother had shouted at the top of her lungs saying we need a miracle and told the doctors that they needed one that time, then the doctors said they were loosing me. My mom called the pastor of the church I was born in, Mike Servello, and his wife Barb Servello of Redeemer Church, and they all prayed for me in the church.
Then my aunts in New York City put my name across the radio for prayer and I had woken up the next day. I was in a coma for a long time. When I woke up, I looked at my mom and her friend that kept my mother company the whole time and I asked, “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?” They nearly passed out.
I was in Rochester Strong Memorial Hospital in the ICU. They brought me to the part of the hospital where I could get a new liver. My liver completely failed on me, but I never had to get a new one because I was healed.
I was there for a month. I had to learn how to walk all over again and it was about three weeks before I could get my energy back because I was so weak. The doctors that worked with me explained I had a disorder called Bi-polar and major depression. I never knew I had this all these years. I knew I was depressed my whole life but couldn’t figure out why.
Well from there I left to another hospital called MVPC in Utica, New York. I was there for 6 months and it was the hardest thing I ever went through in my whole life. I did everything I was told to do. And that kept me from staying there any longer. I told my doctor that I would do whatever it takes to get my life back together and when I told him that he was surprised because he never knew what I meant that day.
He diagnosed me with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Anxiety. Well after knowing about my disorders and learning about them, I challenged myself to stay focused on getting out and becoming clean and I went straight to McPike Rehab center.
I only left the hospital about 4 times out on pass because I had wanted to recover and do it without any distractions. Going to rehab was fun. I left there, I wanted to go to this place called Conaford Park, another rehab place were they had a buffet and a pool. I really wanted to go and got my hopes up, but then was told I was going to McPike.
When I was there I was a little afraid but knew if I could go through two other hospitals and do this, it’s worth it. And my counselor loved me there. A lot of people liked me even in the hospitals. I was always worried what people would think about me and now I’m a lot stronger than I was before. This place was a great place for my recovery. I was so proud of myself when I got my medallion with the Serenity Prayer on it. I carry it everywhere I go.
When I talked and gave my speech, I thought of what my mom always says. “No matter what any of you do or what you have gone through, everyone deserves a second chance.” And she was right. I was given back my life and I’m here today to share my story, and my journey and what I had to do to get here. I did it all on my own and I am ten months sober today. October 16th will be one year for me. I’m going the long way and staying happier with my medications, great friends to talk to when I need help and a loving church that supports me.
My life is totally changed and I’ll never be the same person again. Now you can catch me volunteering in church or doing some kind of benefit walk, plus my favorite hobby Zumba salsa dancing. I have a large support network and I know what to do when I need help. You see, I spent my whole entire life suicidal, always afraid to tell my mother and we share such a bond now that I have been very blessed and fortunate.
My father died on December 21, 2007, and my grandfather died just four days later. It was a very hard year for my family so even with that I kept all my feelings inside about how I felt about it. I never got the closure I wanted because the burial was done without us and I always blamed myself but it was never my fault. I say what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger and I learned a lot of lessons out of this to just talk about it.
You don’t have to fit in to be popular and I am unique for a reason. We all have a plan and purpose and I’m just glad I’m able to help others and reach out to them especially because I know how it feels to not have anyone to go to.
This is my story and I consider myself a miracle, more than just a hero. Now my life is starting its new chapter of happiness.