Silent No More

I thought we were past the point of depression being taboo. I thought that, even though it's hard to talk about, it is finally being more recognized. It is something that has to be addressed. I thought everybody understood that. I was wrong.

When I was 9, my mom started on anti-depressants. I remember the change in her, it was HUGE. She was fun, outgoing, and happy. I heard her talk to others about being on anti-depressants, and I didn't know what a taboo subject it was because my mom was so open. As I grew older, I learned that a lot of people had really judged her for that. I know that must have been hard. But she never stopped talking about it.

When I started anti-depressants and counseling in the summer of 1997, my mom encouraged me to talk to friends about it. I refused! I was embarrassed and afraid of judgment. I don't know why, when I had seen my mom talk so openly about it; but I was. The only time I have ever successfully gone off medication since that time was when I was pregnant with Karleah. We had tried for 2 years, and I think that elation overrode my depression for a while. When she was a few weeks old, I found a doctor and asked for a prescription. He told me it was stupid to expect to stay on it my whole life. I got my prescription and never went back to him.

When my anti-depressants stopped working in my early 30s, and I took several months to get on the right concoction of medication to help me, I was discouraged from saying too much about it. Some that I did try to talk to were uncomfortable.

In 2011 (I think) someone I knew was hospitalized for about 10 days for suicidal ideation. I was told to keep it to myself. I was left to deal with it all on my own, very few had any idea why this person was in the hospital.

In 2016 a close friend was hospitalized, after going to an ER and arguing that she needed help, even if she didn't already have a suicide plan in place, she needed some help. She was finally admitted, but finds it hard to find people that she can talk to about it openly.

In May of this year, another person I care about was hospitalized with suicidal ideation. I was told not to tell anyone. I was again left all alone to carry the burden. I cried for hours at a time, for several days. If the kids weren't home, I was crying. When they were home, I was fighting it. This time, I was jealous of the help she received. I needed that too, and I felt like nobody realized how seriously I was struggling.

Last weekend, yet another person in my life was taken to the ER with suicidal ideation. I have been told, once again, not to talk about it. I have been lashed out at for anything I say about it. I was told that because I dared say anything to anyone I had caused undue stress on others involved. Apparently they are embarrassed. When I told them they had nothing to be ashamed of and maybe if we talked about this more, they wouldn't end up going to the ER. I was again told to keep quiet about it all. I should have lied about why she is in the hospital.

Today, inspired by my mother's courage from 28 years ago, I want to stop the silence. I will not keep my struggles inside, I will not "cover up" what is happening. I will respect the privacy of others, but I will not keep trying to trudge through my struggles without talking about it, and reaching out. I will not let others dictate my life. So, here goes.....

I have been in the dark place since I was pregnant with TJ. It's been almost 2 years of constant racing thoughts, suicidal thoughts, discouragement, anger, jealousy, depression, and more. I have tried to just "tough it out". I have tried to dedicate myself to helping others, or being more devoted to my home and family. I even doubled my dosage, and it hasn't helped. I finally started counseling, and so far that hasn't helped either. I have had panic attacks nobody sees, and anxiety nobody knows about. I need help, and I can't get it. The only way to get any serious help, in a timely manner, is to attempt suicide.

We see commercials and posters about teen suicide rates. We hear about how high a percentage the US has of depressed people (especially teens) and we have crisis lines in place. We have psych wards, therapists, psychiatrists, and medical professionals. And yet, the ONLY way to be taken seriously is to overdose. Slit your wrists. Jump in front of a train. Pull out a gun. We have come a long way, but we have so much farther to go.