As a police officer of over twenty years I’d seen just about everything. I’d dealt with death and distress, riots, assaults and every manner of inhumanity and I’d coped with it all. I was considered reliable and the one to be able to deal with any situation.
What tipped me over the edge into depression was a punctured tyre. In truth I’d been suffering stress symptoms for some time, palpitations, sweating, heavy breathing, sleep disturbance and above all irritability. When the flat tyre arrived I just couldn’t cope, I’d lost control and was unable to deal with an everyday setback, my reaction out of all proportion to the size of the problem. I knew something was desperately wrong and I sought help but still within a few weeks I had been placed on anti-depressants.
Instead of rallying I found myself tumbling into a dark hole of despair. I woke up each morning feeling anxious. I’d spend my time doing the absolute minimum possible, dreading the day ahead. I suffered intense fear but didn’t fear anything tangible. Days passed without me even washing or brushing my teeth and I retreated into myself, hardly venturing out of the house. I resorted to alcohol as an escape but this merely led to confrontational situations which could have ended in tragedy, my not being in control of my actions and reactions.I could sit in a room full of people and feel lonely but also feel overpowered by the presence of relatively few. Above all, I couldn’t cope with no longer being able to be relied upon.
My whole life I had been strong for others and now I had no trust or belief in myself. I felt worthless. At my lowest ebb I thought long and hard about taking my life but the idea of others having to cope in my absence brought me to my senses. I suppose my arrogance saved me, thinking that others couldn’t cope without me but I prefer to think that it was their love which focused my mind.
I had received wonderful support from the medical services, my G.P. initially, a psychiatrist who was open and honest with me and especially a therapeutic counsellor. They all contributed a great deal and helped me to understand that it was not only acceptable to have and admit weaknesses but expected of any normal person. This was an epiphany for me. I’d always had to be strong, to never show my weakness. It was the way I’d been brought up and it had been perpetuated by the job I did. Ironically my illness ultimately cost me my career and I grieved for that for a long time but slowly, ever so slowly, my condition improved until 18 months ago I was taken off my anti-depressants.
Now I view myself as the new, improved product. For the first time in my life I know what empathy feels like. Not a coping, professional façade but actually sharing the pain and joy of others. Perversely I find it to be a wonderful gift. I do still have the occasional setback, periods of anxiety, but I know that they are not permanent. An hour, a day or a week long but they do pass.
I don’t cope with stressful situations very well anymore and I recognize that the episodes of anxiety usually occur when I am outside my comfort zone but you can’t avoid every situation which makes you feel uncomfortable. I know that depression is a life long condition, I’m never clear of it but I can control aspects of it. Above all I now put myself before others. Not in a selfish way but I inwardly ask myself “is this in my best interests?” I have found it hard to say no in some situations but my priorities have changed.
I am not ashamed of my illness. It was not lack of moral fibre. It was not my fault, just a chemical imbalance. I took medication in much the same way as diabetic takes insulin. Why should one be accepted and the other stigmatised?
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