I’m normally a very private person, especially when it comes to very personal things like this, but I have been seeing a lot of threads and posts about various Dopers experiencing depression, and I thought that if I shared my own story, and it helped someone else to find help or even just give them hope, then I’m okay with that.
Around November of last year, I began to experience a host of problems all at once. My abusive father died, and I had thought that his death would be a catalyst for the rest of my family to come back together after being fractured for so long, and that didn’t happen. My autistic son with major behavior problems really ramped it up and was making his previous problems look like child’s play. Let’s just say I was at the hospital (usually the psych part of the ER) with him so much, I was considering having my mail forwarded there. And I was having a lot of problems with my roommate, who I normally get along with very well, but then not so much. So my depression is considered situational, I guess, but it doesn’t really make a difference, as it still causes a chemical imbalance causing Major Depressive Disorder.
For most of December and January, I cried more than I have in my whole life before that all together. I stopped going places, doing things, and talking to people. My reaction to needing help is to isolate, and the more help I need, the more I isolate myself, ironically. My relationship with my mother didn’t flourish as I had hoped, and I started to tell myself that if your own mother doesn’t love you, you should probably just kill yourself. I was telling myself a lot of fucked up things, and believing them.
I had experienced a couple of low-level depressions before in my life, but nothing like this. This was like the difference between stubbing your toe and cutting it off. I was falling into a deep, black abyss, and I could see that nothing could or would ever get any better, no matter what. I was worthless, a failure, all of the things that you think when you’re in that kind of place. It was horrible. I was horrible.
In February, I checked into a mental hospital because I was having suicidal thoughts. I’d never been anywhere like that, and I didn’t know what to expect. I actually expected a bunch of crazy people screaming naked in the hallways or whatever. I slept the whole first day I was there. When I got up and went out to where everyone else was, I couldn’t believe what I saw. These people were all, for the most part, NORMAL! Weird! And they were lounging, and talking, and laughing, which I thought was very strange. I was thinking, how can they be acting so normal and happy- don’t they realize where they are?? But after a couple of days, I relaxed and began to talk to others and take part in groups and even smile and laugh. Everyone that worked there was extremely nice and caring, the food was ok, the beds were horrible but I got Ambien so I slept very well. I got started on Paxil. I really liked the groups, because I hadn’t been getting any positive feedback at home, and here all of a sudden I could see that other people thought that I was smart, and funny, and had a good personality, and was worthy of just being around. That was really good for me. After five days, I indicated that I was ready to go home, and was discharged.
I had already started counseling before my hospitalization, so I continue that. My counselor is awesome- she listens to me, she understands me, she questions any distorted thinking I may have, and she even said I was adorable. She really validates my feelings and opinions and even cuteness. 
I wasn’t really feeling much better from the Paxil after a few weeks, so the nurse practitioner that I see did a pharmacogenetic test kit. This is where I did a cheek swab and she sent it off to this lab, through a company called GeneSight, and the results came back telling us what antidepressants work best and worst, and also other things like anti-anxiety meds, ADHD meds, sleep meds, etc. It turns out that Paxil is the worst antidepressant for me genetically. The new meds like Prestiq are the best, but my insurance won’t pay for them unless I’ve tried a lot of other things, so we settled on Cymbalta. Once I started taking that, I felt a world of difference. I am starting to feel like my old self, I have a lot more energy, and I just don’t feel overwhelmingly sad anymore. I feel now like things CAN get better, and they will. I still have my family problems and everything, but all of these things don’t feel hopeless anymore or representative of who I am as a person.
So, if you are currently feeling like I did, please reach out. I’m so glad that I did. Things can change, and get better. You’re not stuck feeling like this. If I can come back to hope after the way I was feeling, then you can, too. I promise! There’s hope.
