on giving depression a voice.

Posted bycasey coombsPosted indepression

I have tried to take my own life more than the one time I have acknowledged on this blog.

Almost exactly two years ago I drove myself to the hospital. The entire drive there I had to keep talking myself out of driving into oncoming traffic. My eyes were puffy, they stung from all the crying and my heart felt as though it had been pummeled by a meat tenderizer.

Alone. Broken. Hopeless. Alone. Broken. Hopeless.

I called Cody from the parking lot and told him where I was and what I was about to do.

Voluntarily commit myself.

He understood. It wasn’t the first time that me going back into the hospital had been considered.

He offered to meet me there, I volunteered to come home. He found somewhere for little Addie to go and he took me to the mental crisis unit of the hospital.

It all came back so fast. The locked doors, the patients talking to themselves, random screams and the constant buzz of florescent lighting. The doctor I met with was named Dr. Wink. Dr. Wink saved my life that night. There was no judgement.

She got it.

She understood my fear of going back “in there” but she also understood how I had come to a point where “in there” may be the only safe place for me to be. We talked for a long time. She didn’t commit me, instead she gave me hope. Hope that I could make it through this without having to hand over my shoelaces and pride.

I left with hope. And a very important prescription. I have been taking that prescription since and have not once felt I needed to go back there.

****

Mental illness is not a choice.

Nor is it a cop out, curable or something that one can merely “get over” like a pulled hamstring.

There is nothing wrong with taking a pill to get me through the involuntary chemical imbalances in my own head.

I’m not going to lie, there are some days I hate that stupid pill. I hate taking it, I have even tried to go without. I hate that my body can’t just “work.” But something up there doesn’t fire right and the repercussions from a misfire can be devastating. So I take the pill.

No one has ever thought any less of me for needing contacts to see or prescription strength deodorant to keep me from sweating like a pig in the sun on the fourth of July. The same goes for my depression medication.

If you are suffering, please. It’s not a cop out to get help. There are people out there like Dr. Wink who know it’s not your fault and that you would never volunteer to feel the way you do, alone, broken and hopeless.

If those words resonate anywhere ANYWHERE within you, please. Find someone to talk to. Anyone. There’s websites, phone numbers, friends, me, doctors and clergy that will listen. That cold rainy night in February last year didn’t end the way I had it in my head, if it had I would have either had a toe tag or my name on commitment papers.

I can’t even say I was looking for a miracle. Miracles don’t exist to someone trapped inside their own brains. What I was given was hope through the words of another. Enough hope to get me home, enough hope to try a new medication. Enough hope to know that I would feel “normal” again.

And enough hope to know that these demons I battle are not my fault.

****

Karissa, or Krissy as her family called her, took her own life on Saturday. I have scoured her tweets and her site looking for any sort of hint that would have hinted at how alone, broken and hopeless she felt. Aside from “taking a break” there was nothing. No hints to anyone online that she was slipping.

After reading through her comments I noticed how many people she had supporting her. And after knowing of her passing, how many people mentioned that they had thought about reaching out to her but didn’t.

I wrote this last week, it’s haunting.

I guess what I wanted to say is that when you get that feeling to write somebody something heartfelt or out of genuine concern, just do it. If they don’t respond chances are it’s not because they are a jerk. It’s probably because they’re suffocating.

January 5, 2010

and to everyone I wrote these words in the post about my overdose,

I am not ashamed now because I have a message, if someone says they’re not doing so well, please listen. I tried to tell someone that I was not well a week before this happened. They brushed it off as pregnancy hormones and sleepiness. I didn’t want to push, maybe it was just pregnancy after all. But that’s just my point, those who truly need your help will rarely shout for it. They will suffer silently hoping somebody, anybody will notice. Those who are truly hurting will not want to draw attention to themselves.

I didn’t want to be a burden or seen as a complainer. So I tried to figure it all out myself.

And I failed.

But I was blessed through my failure.

Not everyone is so lucky.

November 19, 2007

I’m not saying any one of us, or all of us, could have saved Krissy from making the decision she did. I honestly didn’t know her personally. Even if I had I’m not sure that even I would have noticed her slipping away.

Her loss has left her family grieving. I can’t imagine the pain all those who loved her are feeling, I can’t even pretend to. My heart and prayers go out to them. I know if her cousin could have just one wish it would be to go back to Saturday and make it all better.

****

Please. If you’re not doing well, speak up. Please. Just because you feel hopeless does not mean you are. And even more importantly, you are not helpless.

God didn’t put billions of people on the planet for us to only take care of ourselves.

It’s our job to take care of each other. In sickness and in health. No matter what.

117 thoughts on “on giving depression a voice.”

  2. What a heartwrenching and important post – thank you as always for sharing your story. I know it will make a difference – my heart just aches for her family and I know they’ll just blame themselves which shouldn’t be added to anyone’s grieving.

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  5. Amazingly powerful post. I’m sorry about Krissy, hope her family finds strength through this.

    Even though I haven’t ever thought of taking my life, I think I am pretty depressed right now. MAybe I’ll ask for help too. Thank you.

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  7. Incredible stuff. I love how you write about depression, how open you are about your struggles and how you don’t candy-coat it at all. It’s part of you, like your curly hair (jealous!) and huge grin. You are doing a Very Good Thing with this post.

    Also? You made me cry.

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  8. I love you for putting yourself out there in hopes that your pain will help others. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to write some of the things you do, but bless you for opening the door for others to find support.

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  10. I have been depressed before and while I never went to the hospital for it….I have struggled with that decision of whether or not to drive my car into oncoming traffic on the highway. I have been on medication and have weaned myself off of it. However, I am going to the doctor on the 26th to get back on. I feel those old feelings coming back and I don’t want to get to where I was all those years ago.
    This post was so beautifully written and I hope that it helps someone or many. What a special and meaningful post. Thank you for this.

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  12. It is for this reason that I don’t hide my depression. I try to help people realize that I have a mental illness-and there’s nothing wrong with that.
    My heart goes out to her family and friends. So sad 😦

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  13. Thank you so much for sharing and for helping take the stigma out of something that can be so hard, so personal.

    I have written about depression a few times. It is a topic that is SO CLOSE to my heart. I have been there, depression eating away at my brain, the soul crushing down to the bone exhaustion but unable to sleep. The pain, the agony, the hurt. The TERROR with the thought of reaching out, of letting anyone else know that you are drowning…quickly slipping down the rabbit hole that is mental illness.

    But… But… But….
    The day you do, the day you admit, the day you reach out is the day that you can begin anew. It is a day that can change everything. If you let the fear slip away, it cannot consume you. If you admit you are screaming from the bottom of a pit, someone can throw you a life line.

    These hard, cold, true admissions have saved me (and my daughter) in the past, and I am convinced they will save me again. If you suffer, reach out. There are many out here to catch you.

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  15. Wow, your words are so powerful. I lost my father to suicide almost 11 years ago. I know how Krissy’s family is feeling right now and it sucks. Today, it still sucks. I wish more than anything my father had felt it was okay to speak up, that I had looked a little deeper for something I didn’t know was there but should have known. Depression sucks. I’m so glad you wrote this. I hope it helps someone who is afraid to ask for help, afraid to admit they need it.

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  16. i’ve wanted to blog about my own similar experiences. about the hospitalization, the deep darkness that has enveloped me more than once, the lifelines that reached me just in the nick of time. but i’m chicken. so very chicken. i don’t want to open old wounds for my family and old friends who lived through the hell with me. i don’t want to embarrass my husband whose family knows nothing of my fragile past. i don’t want to scare the crap out of my current friends. i’m just chicken. and ashamed of my chicken fears. especially today. if i could find my voice, maybe it would help someone else. sigh. thank you for saying the things in my heart. maybe one day i’ll be braver.

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  21. Thank you for your bravery. I have never personally struggled with depression, but know so many people who do and probably many more who do and are too ashamed to admit it. Depression needs a voice. Thanks for being brave enough to lend it yours.

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  26. Thank you. The first section is exactly what I’ve wanted to say, but could never find the words. I spent some time in “there”, and got the medication. And, like you, I wish my body would just work. Sometimes I think it can, and I give up on the medication. A month later I end up in tears, thinking about going back there, realizing that my body just DOESN’T work, and taking the pills again.

    It’s so sad someone so loved couldn’t ask for help. I didn’t know her, but after the tweets and blogs today I wish I had. She’s very lucky she had so many people care for her, and she will be remembered as a wonderful person. I’m very sorry for your loss.

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  33. bravo and thanks. and a hug.
    i battle with the crazy every day, but in no way do make it known that i have an official diagnosis, see a therapist or medicate myself IRL. the stigma around mental illness being about *choice* is still so prevalent. Thanks from people like me who do a great job of hiding the real truth; we all lose perspective and this was a great reminder. Timely as well; January & February can be a bitch to get through. Hope you are well and enjoying the official season of home organization/reno/deco: winter!

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  34. Wow. Great post. Very glad to read this, and glad that you’ve got enough of an audience to get it noticed.
    I’m *mostly* pretty happy go lucky nowadays, but I’ve been through depressions and meds before.
    Get Help. Reach out. Great message.

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  35. If I try to write my true feelings on this post, a whole page will spill out. My “almost committed myself” days are too recent for comfort.

    Thank you for being that voice so many need (including me). Thank you for sticking around and for coming back.

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  36. Back in the summer, I wrote about my depression for the first time. I wrote about going back on meds and how silly I was to deny I needed to go back on them because I didn’t want to have to rely on a pill to make me “normal”.

    I got a lot of comments from people just like me, feeling the same things about medicine and depression. The stigma is so ridiculous.

    So thank you for writing this. Even is this post helps one person, it could be the one person that needed it the most.

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  38. I remember meeting a friend who suffers an imbalance who had just broken up with a boy friend. She was curled up in the fetal position shaking, lips chapped, eyes caked over…a mess. She to had tried unsuccessfully to take her life. I believe it is her dog that keeps her from trying again.

    Unfortunately she has never acknowledged the problem and remains un-medicated (to my knowledge).

    It has led to loss of all of her most meaningful relationships including the one she had with me.

    I’m sincerely glad you took the route of acknowledging the issue and seeking help. People do care and are willing to help without judging.

    Thanks for writing this post and I hope it helps someone out there.

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  42. Casey, this is both beautiful and haunting. I wrote yesterday about the two times I nearly took my life (in 2 very different ways) and was saved by my support systems.

    Thank you for writing about this, for speaking out, for reminding us that it’s not taboo. That it’s okay to not be perfect.

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  44. Thanks…..I am on medication but I too feel I shouldn’t be to be normal…..it really frustrates me to have to take it….but once I stop the dread, sadness comes back…
    I thought I was the only one who felt this way…..just need to convince myself to keep taking medication everyday…
    Thanks for your story…

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  45. Oh man, Casey. Are you in my head? I take meds for my depression (mild) and anxiety (huge). I refuse to believe that I will have to take the damn things for life and attempt to wean myself off of them from time to time. I don’t know why I can’t be complacent and just take them because they work. I want to be “right” on my own. Never mind the panic attacks, hypochondria, paralyzing negative thoughts and borderline agoraphobia. I’m off the meds!!!!

    I told my husband if I wan’t able to stave this round of panic off, I’d go back on my meds. There’s no shame. I just want to be “normal”.

    THanks for the post. I’m sorry about your friend. :o(

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  47. THANK YOU. I recently wrote about my own struggles about going to a psychiatrist to talk about going back on medication. I am now back on my medication, and so happy about it. Still, it helps to be reminded that it’s okay.

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  50. I have fought depression for more than half my life. More than once I have wished it would just win. Then I read something like this and am so glad it didn’t.

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