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By Elena Sledge, as told to Kara Mayer Robinson
I’ve been living with depression for almost 12 years. I’m 31 now and I found out I had major depressive disorder when I was 19.
I had a miserable freshman year of college, but I didn’t really know what was wrong. I saw a therapist and the following summer, I was diagnosed with major depression. Looking back, I can see I was also depressed in high school.
Coming to terms with my diagnosis was a process. I had a hard time understanding why I was depressed and where it came from. In my mind, I hadn’t been through anything bad enough to warrant having major depressive disorder.
Therapy helped. My therapist normalized and validated my experience. At one point, she told me, “You have depression because you have it.” That’s something I’ve never forgotten.
I realized I needed to accept my diagnosis and take steps to help me.
I’ve been in therapy fairly consistently over the years. That’s helped me the most.
I’ve also taken various medications. I took one SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) for about 2 years when I was first diagnosed. The effects wore off, but it helped me so much initially.
I tried other medications for short periods of time, like other SSRIs and SNRIs (serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitors). They helped when I needed them. I’m 100% a supporter of medication for mental health, but it’s not something I feel I need right now. If that changes, I’ll probably try it again.
I’ve also made many lifestyle changes. Two years ago, I started working with a personal trainer because I was hardly active. I feel stronger and have more energy. I still work with the same trainer 4 days a week.
With exercise, I try to take care of my body in a way that feels good for me. I also focus on getting enough sleep. I hardly drink alcohol. I focus on keeping a routine in my day and taking care of my spiritual health.
I feel fortunate to have the support that I do. I’ve done a lot to maintain close relationships because relationships are so important to me.
My husband is fantastic and has also lived with depression. Many of my friends and family have experienced depression or other mental health issues, so they have a lot of understanding.
It helps to have someone listen, care, and take the time to talk with you about what’s going on. Social support is huge. I believe human connection is so important for growth and healing.
I’m not consistently experiencing depressive episodes right now, but I find them easy to slip into. It’s interesting because my brain really knows how to be depressed. In a way, it’s so familiar and comfortable.
I sometimes struggle with feeling like a failure. It most often comes up in relation to my work. I’m a mental health counselor. Owning a private practice and trying to help others can sometimes be overwhelming and bring up depressive thoughts and symptoms.
I have to do a lot to manage my thoughts and not start shaming myself. To release my emotions, I write them down or talk them out with someone. I also reframe my thoughts to more compassionate ones like, “I’m enough,” “I’m trying,” or “It won’t be like this forever.”
I still spiral sometimes when there’s too much going on. My main trigger is being overwhelmed by personal events and world events. World events in the last 2 years have definitely had an impact. It’s so easy for anyone to feel hopeless and despair these days.
I know my triggers and I try to be proactive. I do best when I sleep enough, stay active, manage my schedule effectively, and show myself compassion. Depression likes to latch onto doubt. Thoughts of “You’re a failure” or “It’ll never get better” can grow pretty quickly.
My biggest struggle was in my early- and mid-20s, when I was suicidal. Many times, I felt out of control and didn’t know if I could keep myself safe. My symptoms were bad, and I needed more support. I feel like therapy saved my life. Medication was important too. I overcame it then, but passive suicidal thoughts can still come up.
My ups and downs were much more intense and severe in my early 20s. The roller coaster can still be very hard, but I do generally experience a lot more peace at this point in my life.
When I feel great, I feel great. Sometimes I feel just OK.
To manage the ups and downs, I rely on what I know helps me, like going to therapy, getting support from my friends and my husband, and staying active.
The most important thing I’ve learned is that I’m not my depression. It’s something I experience and live with, but it’s not me.
Depression has helped me grow and expand in ways I maybe wouldn’t have otherwise. I don’t wish it for anyone and if I had the choice, I wouldn’t pick it for myself either. But it’s the hand I was dealt and it’s OK to see how it has shaped me.
It made me more compassionate. It inspired me, along with a powerful therapist I once had, to become a therapist myself. It led me to support others.
I used to resent my depression a lot, but I don’t anymore. As awful as it’s been over the years, it’s an important part of my life and it’s helped me in many ways.
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By Bianca Palmisano, as told to Hope Cristol
I talk a lot about what it means for me to be disabled, both with my friends and in the workplace. So talking about depression is quite common.
I do have a physical disability: a hypermobility spectrum disorder. It means some of my joints bend way past a normal range of motion, and I live with chronic pain. But I also consider my mental illness — major depressive disorder (MDD) – a disability, and I talk about it as a disability.
I think solidarity with this community is important. We support each other and advocate better for disability rights when we stand together.
I don’t think depression is something you should have to hide on the job. It’s nothing to be ashamed of and it’s protected by the Americans with Disabilities Act, which gives you the right to ask for certain accommodations. But I understand why some people aren’t as open as I am. There was only one time when, unfortunately, being open about my depression didn’t go well.
I had a job that was really exhausting, and some tense work relationships started giving me panic attacks. When I asked to work from home 2 days a week, just to give myself space to get things done away from those stressors, I found there was a high bar to prove my need.
My therapist wrote a letter, but that wasn’t enough. I had to provide proof from a medical doctor, and I had nowhere to turn; at the time, I wasn’t on medication for my depression.
My request was denied and a few weeks later, I was let go for different reasons.
Having a job that’s a good fit with a supportive team makes all the difference. I recently became a forensic nurse, and the other day my boss asked me about taking some night shifts.
Sleep is a big need for me to function well. I can’t work overnight shifts. I also struggle with waking up early. These are physical issues, not lifestyle preferences. Fatigue and difficulty with early wake-up times are typical symptoms of major depressive disorder.
I said, “I’m happy to do that, but then I can’t work the very next day because of my depression and chronic fatigue.” That was just fine by my boss.
Talking about depression socially has never felt much like a disclosure. It’s always just been part of the conversation. My friends and I talk about how we feel, about our good days and bad days, and my depression informs all of that. I think it helps that many of my friends also have mental illness or are disabled in some way. There’s already an understanding in place.
But I also talk about my depression a lot on social media. One of the main reasons is to help normalize it, especially for people whose lives otherwise fit into a straightforward, standard-issue mold.
Mine doesn’t. I identify as nonbinary and queer, so I’m not expected to fit into that specific mold. For those who are, I want them to know that if they’re struggling with feelings of depression, I’m a safe person to talk to. I want them to know depression is not a bad thing.
It’s also my job to talk about a lot of “taboo” topics — and to help other people talk about them comfortably. [In addition to being a registered nurse,] I’m a health educator and owner of Intimate Health Consulting. We train health care professionals and organizations to understand and navigate issues around sexual health that require special care, like LGBT issues, sexual function problems, and sexual assault survivorship. A lot of times I’m talking about things that are uncomfortable for some people, but we need to talk about them.
I’m so grateful to live where I live and to have the community I have. I think that’s a big part of what gives me my own strength and my resilience.
I do sometimes get nervous sharing my diagnosis with new people or reaching out when I need help. It can feel scary to be vulnerable. But I remind myself that I deserve the same tenderness and care that I give to others. And I can’t receive that unless I’m open and I ask for help.
How I look is another big factor in being able to talk about these topics. I’m white, 5-foot-3, I have a babyface and thin privilege. My body is not seen as intimidating, so my difference isn’t as dangerous. The stakes for me coming out are different than if I were a person of color, overweight, or marginalized in a different way. For example, the stakes are higher for some people of color to identify with mental illness and be open about it. I can put many labels on myself that they can’t.
It’s not the label that matters anyway. As a friend and a nurse, I believe you can call yourself anything you want. I just want to make sure that you get the care that you need. I want to make sure that you’re OK, that you’re safe and that you’re living with the best life that you can. And I think people identify with that, label or no.
Those might be the words a person needs to hear to get professional support, or go on medications, or seek out better, less toxic support structures — maybe sports, religion, friends. People get mental health care in lots of different ways besides our traditional medical system. I hope that approach, that view of mental health and depression, resonates with the people I talk to.
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By Sonja Wasden, as told to Kara Mayer Robinson
I’m a mental health advocate living with major depression.
I speak with Fortune 500 companies, women’s prisons, firefighters, police officers, drug rehabilitation centers, nonprofit organizations, and media outlets about the importance of mental health.
My hope is to break the stigma and let people know they’re not alone and can live a beautiful life despite having mental health challenges.
An important part of destigmatizing depression is breaking down common misunderstandings. While the perception of major depressive disorder is changing, many misconceptions linger.
For example, people often think depression is something you can brush off or flip like a light switch. They may say things like “cheer up” or “just be happy.” But depression isn’t a choice. It’s a feeling and it’s real.
Another misunderstanding is how it appears on the surface. Just because someone looks happy doesn’t mean they’re not struggling. Often, people with depression put on a happy face to hide it from others.
People sometimes think someone who’s struggling with depression is trying to get attention. But no amount of attention is worth the painful feelings of major depressive disorder.
The problem with the ongoing stigma is that it may prevent you from speaking up and getting the help you need. The stigma can even be triggered by your own feelings. In the past, I often felt I wasn’t worthy of help or I had no value because of my depressive disorder.
But people with major depressive disorder are some of the most resilient and hard-working people I know. It takes courage to face this condition day in and day out.
People with chronic illnesses like cancer or diabetes are often told they’re brave, courageous, and inspiring. People with major depression should be told the same.
The perception of major depression is changing. People are talking more about mental health, which helps.
COVID-19 has brought depression to the forefront. Studies report that the number of people experiencing depression has increased. For people with lower income and more stressors, the rate has tripled since the beginning of the pandemic.
As depression becomes more prominent, we’re having more critical mental health conversations. There’s a better understanding that people from all walks of life are experiencing depression. These honest conversations not only make people feel they’re not so alone, but also encourage people to speak up.
It’s also helpful that therapy is more common now. More people are going to therapy to improve their lives, even if they’re not struggling with mental health issues. This has reduced the stigma for getting therapy tremendously.
But there’s still stigma associated with taking mental health medication. It’s stigmatized to the point that many people who need it refuse to take it, even though it would help them improve their life greatly.
It may be challenging to learn you have major depressive disorder.
When I got my diagnosis, my whole soul rebelled against it. I felt like my doctor was handing me a life sentence. I felt hopeless and helpless. I couldn’t see how I could live a normal life with depression as my constant companion.
But that changed. I’m grateful for my doctors, medication, DBT (dialectical behavior therapy), and therapists who taught me I can have a life worth living despite my depression. Through medicine and learning new skills, I now have a very beautiful and full life.
When you learn you have a diagnosis of major depressive disorder, the first step in the healing process is radical acceptance. When you fight depressive emotions, it only gives them more fuel to thrive.
When I stopped fighting my diagnosis and started embracing it, that’s when the quality of my life improved. Of course, I still have hard days that I have to accept and manage, but the magic of acceptance is that it stops unnecessary suffering caused by resisting it.
Try to remember that there are millions of people who successfully live with difficult illnesses of every kind. You’re not alone. Chronic illnesses aren’t fun and they take daily management, but there’s power in acceptance. It’s the only way to move forward.
You may live your life differently than someone else without a depressive disorder and that’s OK. But it doesn’t mean you can’t have a full and meaningful life. Try to use self-help, self-love, and patience.
It takes everyone to break a stigma: celebrities, public figures, families, friends, schools, government leaders, news outlets, advocacy groups, doctors, therapists, and individuals.
One of the best ways you can help break down the stigma is to allow and participate in mental health conversations. Educate yourself. Be aware of the language you use. Show equality between physical and mental illnesses. Be compassionate.
Talk about it at work, with friends, and with family. Post on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook about things related to mental health awareness. Be one of the drops in a bucket. Each person’s voice matters.
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Looks can be deceiving. Just ask Melissa Drake.
The 50-year-old author and consultant from Southern California says she had a good job, owned a home, and was raising a wonderful son. On the outside, her life looked pretty good. But nothing could’ve been further from the truth.
On the inside, Drake was in a life-and-death struggle with major depressive disorder — a diagnosis she got at 20 years old.
She admits it’s hard to explain what it’s like living with this condition. “I often describe depression as ‘everything and nothing at once,’ because nothing was really wrong, but everything felt wrong at the same time.”
Drake is not alone in her feelings.
People often say there’s no reason for them to be depressed, but yet they are, says Shawna Newman, MD, a psychiatrist at Lenox Hill Hospital in New York. Some describe major depression as if they are living under a cloud or walking through mud, she adds.
But a closer look uncovers recognizable clues that can signal major depression.
Depression isn’t just simply feeling sad or blue. It’s normal to feel bad over the loss of a job, the death of a loved one, or another sad event, Newman says. The difference is that symptoms of major depression last at least 2 weeks, run very deep, and are not at all normal for you. Here are some changes you might see in yourself if you have major depression:
Sadness, emptiness, or irritable mood. You can’t seem to shake the low mood. You may be irritable too. If you are normally cheerful and you’ve turned consistently cranky, it could be depression.
Loss of interest. You may stay away from friends or loved ones, or stop doing things you used to enjoy. You may lose interest in sex too.
Sleep problems. You may find it hard to fall asleep, or you could toss and turn all night long. On the flip side, you might sleep much more than usual or nap during the day.
Change in eating habits. You could lose interest in food and lose weight, or you might begin to eat too much and gain weight.
Lack of focus. Work may become difficult because you can’t keep your mind on it. Many people describe this as “brain fog.” You could also see this loss of focus in your home life, social life, and personal relationships and conversations.
Changes in energy. Overwhelming weakness and exhaustion may make it difficult or impossible to peel yourself off the couch or get out of bed. In contrast, you may be full of energy and feel fidgety or shift in your chair or bed to try to get comfortable.
Hopelessness. You may have a bleak outlook and not see a way out of your depression.
Thoughts of death. These can range from thoughts like “It would be okay with me if I just didn’t wake up” to active suicidal thoughts or actions, Newman says. Making a plan to kill yourself or taking action (like buying medication for an overdose) takes these thoughts to the next level. It’s not common, but sometimes people with major depressive disorder have homicidal thoughts too.
If you feel like you may harm yourself or others, call 911 right away.
Get professional help if you have symptoms of major depression or are unsure about why you’re feeling so bad. Treatments like medicine, talk therapy, and others can work wonders. Opening up to a therapist often gives people a sense of relief right away, Newman says.
Drake’s depression at times was severe. “I attempted suicide once, thought about it many other times, was recommended for in-patient hospitalization, and heavily medicated for more than 20 years.” Her most pressing symptoms were extreme exhaustion and a general feeling of sickness (malaise).
For 7 years, Drake was practically bedridden, only getting up to go to work and care for her son as a single parent. “There were times when I didn’t do laundry or chores for months while piles of mail went untouched for years.” Although she spent most of her time in bed, insomnia kept her awake at night and bathing and self-care were nonexistent.
“I was constantly numb, avoiding feelings and stuffing them down with food. I gained weight and ballooned to 307 pounds.”
Drake describes her lowest point to show just how bad her depression was: “I have two dogs that I adore. They are always in bed with me. One day one of them threw up in my bed. As dogs sometimes do, the other dog ate the vomit. I rolled over and went back to sleep. I did not bother to change my sheets — for weeks.”
The most important decision Drake made was to find a therapist. “It wasn’t until I understood and accepted that I had to do the work to recover and start taking steps toward recovery that I began to get better.”
She wanted someone who didn’t just pay lip service but who held Drake accountable for the better life she said she wanted. “That’s what she did and I am so grateful.”
Once she was out of the woods, Drake says she began to look for things that she enjoyed. She started to dance. “It was the medicine I needed to heal. It grounded me and put me back in my body.”
The year 2020 was especially tough for Drake. But today she’s doing well. “Not perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but I’ve come a long way from being in bed for 7 years. I do work I love; I have a large group of friends; I enjoy dancing and nature,” Drake says. “Even through the tough times, my outlook is generally positive.”
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