Ever heard of a disease that does not show up in your blood test; does not cause any visible symptoms like runny nose, headache, or rashes; or is not visible under a microscope? Yes, it exists, and doctors call it depression. This is an issue that touches millions of lives across the world, but it is hard to pin it down. I know that because and I have dealt with it in the past.
For a major part of my life, on certain days, I battled with an unexplainable state of unhappiness. The occasional down days used to take a toll on my body and mind. The symptoms were evident - my self-esteem hit rock bottom, I ate like a horse, I remained active and happy at one moment and gloomy and aloof the next, I broke down to tears for the silliest of the reasons and fought with on-and-off suicidal thoughts. The miserable health condition reared its ugly head from time to time. Yes, there was a problem to deal with, but I never acknowledged it.
Deep within, I was not ready to deal with the stigmatization and prejudices of society. I didn't want to go down that road. The embarrassment and the fear of putting myself in that awkward spot were hard to deal with. I felt that it will aggravate my condition, so I chose to remain in the state of denial for a very long time. When depression overpowered me, it felt like nothing in this world could help me feel good. But here is the difficult part - I hated to admit that I needed help. Yes, I was in a state of denial for several years. This denial exacerbated my sufferings, and the glitch in my head-space worsened.
From adverse childhood experiences to getting bullied at workplaces, life took me through all sort of dark phases until my mid-twenties. I know that some unpleasant experiences are inevitable in the journey of life. But I had a barrage of them for a very long time, and they left me with deep scars that covered every inch of my heart. The pain I felt was indescribable, almost ready to engulf me and leave me incapacitated. I tried my best to put a brave face in front of my family, friends, and colleagues, but some of them noticed that something was amiss. I saw myself switching from extreme happiness to extreme sadness regularly. I cried often and without any provocation. People called me dramatic, moody, and a cry baby, but that was my way of asking for help. But I was always made to feel that what I was going through due to my fault.
After the long and exhausting battle, a colleague brought a ray of hope in my life. His solacing words helped me amass the courage to put an end to the pain and denial that I was forcing on myself. I knew that I would not be able to snap out of the persistent feelings of sadness and despair. But I didn't want to keep quiet anymore and let the pain and stigma win over me. I was desperate for help, but I was too ashamed to ask until my colleague made me understand that there is nothing embarrassing about asking for help. So, after a long journey through darkness, the light dawned upon me, and I realized that it is better to fix than to ignore it. So I decided to ask for help.
Soon I found myself sitting in a therapist’s room for a counseling session. The first step to recovery, as always, to start an honest conversation. It was hard to figure out who is the best person to talk to - a family member or a doctor. I kept worrying about the likely responses, and I feared that a wrong response (verbal or otherwise) would hamper my healing efforts. Keeping this in mind, I chose to speak to an experienced doctor. I wanted to have an honest conversation with someone who is knowledgeable and whose job is to help people like me. While opening up to a family member or friend has its perks, the downside is the lack of proper medical attention that is imperative to kick-start the healing process.
I had apprehensions, a lot of them. I felt he might throw some serious medications my way, but he did not put me into any medication. Akin to other illnesses, I felt medication is the preliminary step on the road to healing. But I was wrong. The initial session was quite a big surprise - his first step was to listen to me. I spoke about an hour –I laughed and cried, reminiscing every depressive moment of the past. He listened like a friend: a loving an empathetic friend. He didn't interrupt me even once. He held my arms when I cried my eyes out. While I unfolded all the thoughts and emotions, current and bygone, he gathered all data about my life and the agony I was fighting with. I was frank and specific about every information that I shared. I was no longer embarrassed, and I didn’t have even an iota of worry about social stigma. All that I had in mind was the immense need for a long-term healing process.
Seeking help is a sign of strength. It's not a weakness. A heart-to-heart conversation with someone you trust is the best way to get rid of negative toxic feelings and seek the much-needed help. It will also give you a fresh perspective on life along with a new pair of lenses to view life from. Although medication can relieve the symptoms of depression, it is not ideal for long-term use. Other methods - including exercise, therapy, positive conversations, and lifestyle changes such as self-care - can go a long way, and they can be more effective than medication. Always remember that the treatment will take time and commitment and that’s quite normal. You may face ups and downs intermittently, and the journey can sometimes be overwhelming and frustratingly slow. But never give up!
There is a strong social stigma attached to depression. This negative stigma makes people feel embarrassed to
confess the way they’re feeling, For fear of being named and shamed, people are
hesitant to reach out for help and to talk. First of all, if you are suffering from depression, you are not responsible for it. So, do not blame yourself for what you are going through. Furthermore, if you refuse to seek help, it will not make you strong, tough, or self-reliant; it will only make you stubborn and will likely aggravate what you are dealing with. Seek help as early as you can.
