Tag Archives: Depression

What Not To Say To Someone With Depression

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Do you have a friend or loved one who is living with depression?  Have you ever struggled with what to say to them?  Or what not to say to them?

Sometimes it is difficult to know what to say to a friend or loved one who is going through a depressive episode.  You want to say something encouraging, but at the same time you do not want to accidentally hurt their feelings.  You want to help them but you do not want to come off sounding condescending.  The following list was created to help people learn some of the things that they should not say to a depressed person.

Some items on the list were suggested by other people, some were ones that I have heard, and others were found on the internet.

  1. I heard this one after trying to commit suicide- You are too smart to do something so stupid.
  2. suggested by @mindinflux  – Pull yourself together.
  3. suggested by @mindinflux – Cheer up love, it might never happen.
  4. suggested by @monkeywithglasses – Cheer up, its not so bad.
  5. suggested by @monkeywithglasses –  Life is great, look at the sky see the birds, and smiles. All said in a cheerful voice
  6. suggested by @witchyangl -If you had more faith in God you would not be depressed.
  7. It’s all in your mind.
  8. You have so much to be thankful for, why are you depressed?
  9. Happiness is a choice.
  10. You need to get out more.
  11. I know what you mean, I was depressed once for several days.
  12. Quit feeling sorry for yourself.  Go out and help other people and you won’t have time to be depressed.
  13. I am tired of hearing you talk about it. Just get over it.

Dear Depression

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Dear Depression,

You did not win today, I did!  Today, my Mental Health Ninja Skills were much better than yours.

For every attack you made, trying to put dark thoughts in my head, I countered with my positive thoughts.  You almost were able to slip in through the Gate of Unnecessary Worries, but I was able to stop you in your tracks by  using logical thinking and problem solving skills.  You and I both knew the fight was over when I was able to defuse your bombs that were meant to destroy my self esteem and self worth.

Depression, I really do not like to fight with you. You are a part of me and there are times when you serve a purpose.  However, you must understand, that you are no longer in charge.  I am.  The sooner you accept that fact, the sooner we both can move forward.

Wishing you a positive day,

Melissa

What Depression Feels Like To Me

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Now that it has been over year since my suicide attempt, I have some clarity about my depression.  There are some parts of it I can vividly recall, while other parts are a bit fuzzy.  I think the reason parts of it are fuzzy is because of how severe my depression was. Depression does mess with your memory, and it very well could be my brain trying to protect me from some of the pain.

For me, looking back, I remember how my depression made me feel so physically awful.  That physical feeling was so bad that it scares me to even contemplate a return to that state of being.  My body ached all over. I was exhausted all the time.  My stomach hurt. I had many migraines and felt nauseous often.  It was as if my depression had filled me up so much that it was oozing out of my body, much like the way pus oozes out of an infection.

It felt as if I only had two emotions, extreme anger and extreme sadness.  My brain hurt from these extremes.  There were many days where I was so sad that all I could do was cry and when I was not crying, I would feel like crying.  I would cry from guilt over a past action, I would cry about my son and how he left home.  Sometimes,I would cry for no reason. Then there were those truly horrible days when my extreme anger at myself manifested itself to such a degree, that I took it out on other people.  I said and did terrible things.  I knew what was coming out of my mouth was bad, but I had no control over it.  Then I would feel so much guilt about what I had said and done that I would start feeling that extreme sadness again.  It was a vicious cycle, and it seemed like there was no way to stop it.

Then there was that mean, little voice in my head.  That little voice that sounded like my own, and it kept saying nasty, spiteful things to me.  Things like, I was not good enough to have such a wonderful family, or that I deserved all the pain I was feeling.  Then it began filling my head, heart and soul with dark thoughts of death.  It kept on and on, until all I could hear was that mean, little voice telling me what a loser I was, and how I really should not be alive to be a burden to my family.

Those dark and terrible days weighed so heavily on me that even my soul felt worn out.  I felt as if I was a soulless creature, and when someone feels as if they have no soul they have no hope.

I cannot just leave this post on such a sad note.  I did this as a writing assignment for Writing Workshop.  I chose to do it, because I thought it might benefit people to see how all encompassing depression is.

I am a far cry from how I was when my depression made me feel that bad.  Today, I have hope, satisfaction, and my soul feels refreshed.

Unequal Partnership

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Marriages are supposed to be partnerships. Ideally, the amount that each spouse contributes to the marriages is equal. Often when marriages have an unequal partnership they end in divorce, because the spouse who is contributing more gets tired of carrying the load.

My marriage is unequal, and has been for many years. Depression left me unable to contribute my fair share to our partnership. My husband was left to work all day and then come home and do the work at home. Cook, clean, laundry, he had to do it because my depression did not allow me to function as I should. It was very hard on him, he said he often felt as if he was a single parent since I was checked out and he had to do it all.

Now that I am doing better, I do contribute more, but it is still not an equal partnership. I have good days, and ok days, and bad days and this maybe how it is for the rest of my life. Depression is a life long disease, even if I were to reach a state of remission. Which means my husband is still left doing more than his share in our marriage.

This has made things difficult at times. My husband has felt that there were occasions I could have done more to contribute to the marriage than I have. I have felt that he is not being understanding enough. The reality is there is probably a happy medium in there some place, we just have to find it.

Even though he gets frustrated with me every once in a while, I know he loves me. He is a loving man, who is doing the best he can. I am not the person he married, and he misses her. My depression has been hard on him, it has changed all of our lives drastically.

I wish I could say that there will come a day, very soon, when I will be an equal contributing partner in our marriage, but I just do not know if that will ever happen. What I can say is that there will probably be a day when I contribute more.

We have had some rough patches during this last year. He has had to accept the fact that I was so depressed and did not tell him, and also that I tried to commit suicide. I have changed a great deal and he has had to come along for the ride. I am sure he has been confused and worried about me more than once.

I know that given everything that is going on in our marriage right now, and how we each are performing at our partnership roles, we stand a greater chance, statistically, of getting divorced than other marriages do. However, I happen to disagree with the statistics. Although it is not going to be easy, I think that we will adjust, and adapt to our roles in our marriage and will become more understanding of each others needs.

Thank you, Lady Grier of My Life for inspiring me to write this.

All Is Well…

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I saw my counselor on Wednesday, and she had some encouraging words for me.  However, she also had some pretty scary words.  She said she thought I was doing really well with this detour and in her opinion, it was more about relearning behavior than the medications not working properly.  She discussed how I really dislike facing strong emotions head on, and in order to traverse the detour I needed to start figuring out an appropriate way for me to do that.  The counselor gave me some suggestions, but did let me know that this was going to be a trial and error process, rather than just picking a strategy and knowing it will work.  I let her know that I really disliked trial and error, her reply, “I know”.

I have sort of fallen back into the pattern of going with the flow, only with some people, because it is easier than rocking the boat.  The counselor told me I needed to stop doing that.  So once again, I will be rocking the boat, which does not make all the people in my life happy.  In fact, it makes some of them very uncomfortable because when I change and put boundaries up and expect to be treated a certain way, that means they have to change their behavior as well.  Just like I believe depression is a family disease, recovery is a family thing as well.

I have a confession, I really liked when I first started taking this medication combo, because it really dulled my emotions, and I did not feel anything strongly.  Now that my mind and body are used to the medications, I feel emotions more.  Not as much as someone who did not take those medications, but more than I did when I first started taking them.  I would not have been upset if the counselor decided I needed my medications increased because I figure it would have dulled my emotions down again.  So now I have to figure out how to deal with my emotions rather than have them dulled down some more.

The counselor said something that I have been thinking about a great deal.  I am intelligent and I enjoy being intelligent.  She told me that my intelligence was getting in the way of my recovery.  Basically, I am spending more time examining how to deal with something, rather than just doing it.  I am over analyzing things.  At first I was rather confused by what she said, now I understand it more.

I saw my medical doctor yesterday, and he said all things considered, two hospitalizations which included steroids, he thought I was doing pretty good with my diabetes.  An unfortunate side affect of steroids is that it raises a person’s blood sugar and mine got o pretty high during one of my hospital stays. I have to have some blood work within the next few weeks, one test that will be done is something called an A1C test.  Basically, it gives you an idea of how your blood sugar has been over several months.  Ideally, a diabetic’s A1C should be under seven.  The doctor and I discussed the fact that it will be highly unlikely that mine will be within the target range because of the steroids.

Personally, I think everything I heard from both my counselor and medical doctor is good news.  Some of it challenging, that whole trial and error thing, but overall good news.

This Is Not A Set Back

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My counseling appointment did not go quite like I had planned.  I am now back to once a week sessions, with some discussion about the possibility of raising the dosage of my depression medications.

A few weeks ago, I knew something was not quite right.  I even blogged about it a little bit.  I was feeling down, for a variety of reasons, and I knew that I needed to do something to turn it around.  I thought that I had done what I could to get things going in the right direction. Including an old favorite of pretending like everything was just fine. It appears that I was not successful.  Who would have thought that stuffing your emotions and faking it would not work?

My issue is that I am feeling an extreme emotional response to something, that emotional response is in the form of extreme anger, sadness and disappointment.  Since I have been really doing well with my Depression Recovery, that would be since September, I have had a few times where I have had to face extreme emotional responses to something, but I always managed to get through those.  This time however, for whatever reason, I got bogged down by my emotions and have not been able to pull out of it properly.

One of the first things I said to the counselor today, was that my memory problems were back to being as bad as when I first started seeing her, back when my depression was in full swing.  I also told her that all I wanted to do was to sleep.  I was fighting it, not going back to bed, but I fall asleep sitting up on the couch, in the middle of working on my blog, or even when I am talking to someone.  We discussed if I was having distracted thoughts, and while I am not having the racing thoughts that I did last year, my ability to concentrate is not as god as it should be.

My counselor brought up the topic of what has been on my mind of late and let me know that she thought that I was on a downward spiral towards a depressive episode. She gave me some homework to do.  We are going to see if spending extra time with her and the home work will be enough to get things going in the right direction again.  If not, there is always the option of increasing my doses of Effexor and Welbutrin.  I am on a very low does of Effexor, which is supposed to work on two chemicals in the brain.  My psychiatric doctor told me one time that sometimes, when Effexor is given in low doses it only ends up working on one of those brain chemicals, and it needs to be increased to work better.

I do want to point some positive things though.

  • Even though I may be in a depressive episode, it is not even close to making me feel as sick as I did last year.
  • There have been no suicidal thoughts.
  • Even though I was actively stuffing my emotions when my counselor was on her honeymoon, when I did see her, I immediately began discussing it all with her.
  • I shared some of what was going on with a family member.

I do not consider this a set back, it is merely something else I need to learn so I can continue to get better.

Yeah, things did not go as I had planned during my counseling session, but as my family  member pointed out, things rarely go like we plan.  In reality, that is probably a good thing.

When I Lived In The Land Of The Lost…

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When I lived in the Land Of The Lost I was filled with a darkness that penetrated my soul, leaving me weary, and full of sadness and pain.  I became a shadow of what I once was, and what I could have been. I mourned what I had lost and what was never to be. Loved ones tried to enter the land of the lost and rescue me, but I hid from them.  I believed that I did not belong in a Land Of  Love And Light.  I thought I deserved the suffering that the darkness inside of me caused.  Oh, how I suffered.

There was a voice in that internal darkness.  A voice that eerily sounded like my own.  It whispered cruel and horrible things to me.  It lied and twisted things, and I believed what it was saying to me.  The more I believed the voice, the more power the darkness gained.  As its power grew, so did its cruelties and my pain. Soon, all I could think about was ending the pain.

As I wallowed in my darkness and pain, I began to plan my escape from the Land Of The Lost. There was only one way I thought I could escape.  That was to allow the internal darkness to consume me, bringing about my end.  As I waited to be consumed, I discovered a little light inside me, it had hidden itself from the darkness.  It was strong for such a little light, and it too had a voice.  Instead of saying cruel and horrible things to me, the light comforted me, encouraged me and told me I was worthy.  This little light led me through the Land Of The Lost, to the Land Of Love And Light.

Now, that little light guards me and keeps me from being consumed once again by darkness, it prevents me from hiding myself away in the Land Of The Lost again.  It is my beacon, that keeps me focused on living in the Land Of Love And Light.

The Tears Woudn't Stop – Suicide

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At the end of They Threatened To Arrest Me I was in an ICU room, hooked up to an IV, with my guard in a chair by the door..  By this point, I had been threatened with arrest, stripped searched, and made to feel as if I was a criminal.  I know I was suicidal, however, I really felt that the way I was being treated was not helping my suicidal thoughts, instead it was making them worse.

As I suspected, I had a very sleepless night in ICU.  I spent most of the night crying. There was a guard in my room all night, who  I attempted to ignore.  I was still very angry at how things turned out.  I wanted to go home, and I was miserable.  I also still had that terrified feeling about what was going to happen to me next.

When the doctor came to examine me in the morning, he was oddly silent.  Except for letting me know that I had to stay hooked up to the heart monitors to satisfy the psychiatric hospital (which I would be going to the next day), and  that I would be moving to a regular room, he said nothing to me.  Not even to answer my questions.  What I did not know at the time, is that none of the doctors or nurses would give any information to my husband either.  They did not feel compelled to,  since I had been involuntarily committed.  The hospital was considered my guardian at that point, and I was considered incapable of making my own medical decisions.  Because of this, my husband also had no right to know what was going on with me.

Shortly after the doctor examined me, I was transferred over to the regular floor, my guard following me over.  I still was not eating, for fear of a bowel movement, since all my bathroom activity had to be monitored.  The nurse I had at the time, started giving me funny looks when I kept turning down my insulin shots.  I am sure they were thinking I was trying to harm myself in another way.

That afternoon I got a new guard, who I think was trying to do his best to make me feel more at ease.  It sort of backfired.  He tried to prepare me for the transfer to the psychiatric hospital.  He let me know that I would be going in a sheriff’s deputy car, riding in the back.  In my mind I was thinking “Yet another thing to make me feel like a criminal.” Contrary to what the nurse in the emergency room said, there was a chance I could wear my own clothes to the psychiatric hospital, it depended on what the deputy who was in charge of transferring me decided.  Finally, he told me that because of sheriff department policy, I would have to be handcuffed during the transfer.  My terror became stronger.  I kept thinking about how this would not have happened if I had not called for help, and how could they keep treating me like a criminal when I voluntarily came to this hospital.  I burst into a fresh round of tears and quit talking.

That evening, when it came time for me to take my medication for my restless leg syndrome (RLS), I was  given a dose that was less than half of what I am supposed to take.  I asked the nurse who brought it where the rest of it was.  Her response was to roll her eyes and to let me know that either I took what she brought and quit complaining, or she would not give me anything for my RLS.

I got on my cell phone and called my husband and told him what was going on. The nurse left my room, taking the smaller dose of my medication with her.  I was so very angry.  She came back in and told me that the doctor’s orders were for that smaller amount and there was nothing I could do about it.  I believe it was about this time when I said very loudly “that just because I was involuntarily committed, did not mean that the doctor or anyone could make medical decisions regarding me without telling me what was going on“.  My husband was still on the phone and he told me he was going to come back to the hospital, in order to see what he could do to help me.  I over-heard the  guard tell the nurse that if this was going to be how I was going to behave, then he was going to take my cell phone away and not let me have visitors.  I guess he had forgotten all the hours that I had done nothing but cry and because I got angry about the medication situation I was now going to be considered a troublesome patient.

When my husband was just about to my room, the guard left my room to speak to him.  Apparently, the guard told my husband to calm me down so that I could still have visitors and to make their job easier.  I guess I was not supposed to be upset about anything that was going on.   Before my husband came into my room, he went to the nurses station to have my nurse get my medication bag and verify the dosage amounts. That is when he discovered that between ICU and the regular floor (which, by the way, are technically on the same floor), my medication bag was lost.  After an hour of searching, my nurse found it.

She verified that I was correct about my RLS medication dosage, and then called the doctor.  My husband spoke with the doctor, and let him know that just because I was involuntarily committed did not give anyone the right to change my medication dosage, especially without consulting me or him.  He also asked the doctor why my other medications had not been administered.  The doctor told my husband that as a general rule in that hospital, if you are admitted because you are suicidal they take away all of your medications, and only let you have them back gradually.  After much discussion, my husband was able to convince the doctor that it would be a good idea to let me have all my medications, in the dosages I was supposed to.

I still cannot comprehend the hospital’s reasoning for treating me the way they did.  Nothing was done to eliminate my terror, instead everything they did do only increased it. Nor do I understand their reasoning for not letting my  husband know what was going on with me.  Even if they thought I was not capable of making my own medical decisions, he had a right to know what was going on with his wife.  I am thankful they did finally listen to my husband when it came to my medications.

They Threatened To Arrest Me – Suicide

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When I ended Bumps In the Recovery Road I was in the emergency room of the local hospital, waiting with a front desk lady, while the psychiatrist from the Crisis Team was working with the emergency room doctor to have me involuntarily committed.  I was very angry and really wanted to leave, but I knew they would stop me.

After about fifteen minutes, the psychiatrist exited the treatment area and left the emergency room, without saying a word to me.  Almost immediately after he leaves, I am called back to the treatment area.  At first, things seem to be going along in a fairly normal manner.  I am still angry, still feeling like I have been tricked, but I thought that since I had come to the hospital willingly, that it would not be too bad.  I. WAS. WRONG.

A very young nurse enters my room, she hands me a hospital gown, and orders me to take off all of my clothing.  She then informs me that I will be going to the psychiatric hospital, dressed in nothing more than that hospital gown.  I promptly let her know that I was not removing my undergarments.  To which she responded with “We will see what the charge nurse says about that”.

After the young nurse leaves, the emergency room doctor arrives and asks me a few questions about the state of my mind, and if I have a suicide plan.  After I answer all his questions, he leaves.  About twenty minutes after my encounter with the doctor, a guard shows up.  I was not surprised or bothered about the guard, I already knew it was standard procedure for anyone that the medical staff think is suicidal.

When the  charge nurse finally enters my room, I can tell from the look on her face that things are about to get bad.  I had no idea how bad, until she lets me know that she is going to strip search me.  I go from angry to absolutely terrified very quickly.  I am rather modest and the thought of being strip searched was more than my already messed up brain could handle.  I instantly burst into tears.  The nurse told me it had to be done to be sure I was not hiding any drugs or weapons.  I do not use drugs, and I am not a violent person, except for that time when I was coming out of a coma, so I just could not understand why I needed to be stripped searched.  I felt humiliated, embarrassed, and as if I was being treated like a criminal, when I all I did was call for help.

When I told the charge nurse that I refused to be strip searched, she let me know that if I did not allow her to do it, she would have the guard outside my room arrest me!  It seems the guards they use are off duty sheriff deputies, so they have the power to arrest people.  I have no way of knowing if I really could have been arrested for refusing the strip search.  What I do know, is that I was calm, although terrified, and I had not even raised my voice when I told her no.  I also know that I felt bullied, and like I was being treated as if I had committed a crime.

When I did not agree to the strip search as quickly as the charge nurse wanted me to, she began to walk out the door, telling me she was going to have the guard come in and take me to jail.  At that point, it was a given that I would agree. She checked every place that someone could hide anything.  When she finished, I felt completely violated.  Even now, months after this, I still feel just as angry,  humiliated, and violated as when it first took place.

After the strip search, when it was time for me to put my hospital gown back on, I manged to talk the charge nurse into allowing me to wear my undergarments under my hospital gown.  I assumed once I got dressed I would immediately be taken to the psychiatric facility.  That did not happen.  Because of the ten extra beta blockers I took, the psychiatric hospital told the emergency room doctor that I had to have my heart monitored for at least twenty-four hours before they would accept me.

By this time, I had become so scared about going to the psychiatric hospital, that I did not mind having to stay in the medical hospital for an extra few days.  My thought was, if I could be violated the way I had been at this hospital, there was no telling what horrible things waited for me at the psychiatric hospital.

Once a room in the Intensive Care Unit became available, I was transferred (along with my guard) upstairs.  After I was settled into my room, I  learned that there were a few rules that I had to adhere to.  I was not allowed to leave my room.  Anything that my husband brought me would have to be examined before I could have it.  Finally (the worst rule in my opinion), I could not go to the bathroom without being supervised.

That night I learned that because I was involuntarily committed for  a suicide attempt, I would not be given any of my daily medications.  That also meant my Restless Leg Syndrome (RLS) medicine.  Since I was hooked up to monitors, I could not get up and walk around and my legs became extremely uncomfortable.  My RlS medicine is the only thing that makes my RLS symptoms tolerable.  It took some doing, but the doctor that was on duty that night did allow me to take my RLS medicine. He took the discontinue order away and said I should not have any problems the next night.

With the medication failure already allowing my emotions to be out of control, not being allowed to have any anti-anxiety medication, and feeling terrified, violated, and angry, I was a horrible person to be around. I was short tempered, at times, with certain guards. I barely tolerated most of the nurses and I was rude to the doctors.

I quit eating.  There was no way I was going to have a bowel movement while someone had to watch me in the bathroom.  When I was not sleeping, I was crying.  The terror I felt about what it was going to be like at the psychiatric hospital was and still is the most scared I have ever been.

I do not know if the treatment I received in the emergency department is the norm for anyone involuntarily committed.  However, I believe that it was highly inappropriate for the charge nurse to threaten to have me arrested. There could have been many other ways she could have gotten me to cooperate that did not involve threats, especially since I was not being violent or argumentative.

I would like to hear if anyone had similar experiences when they were involuntarily committed for psychiatric care.  I would also be interested to know if my experiences, especially with the arrest threat, are exactly how hospital staff are supposed to treat someone who has suicidal thoughts or if there was something not quite right about how I was treated.

How I Manage My Depression – Mental Health Awareness

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I used to view my depression as a hideous, evil entity that had decided to make its home in my brain. I had no control over it and I believed I would never get control. I knew that I would spend the rest of my life with this thing running around in my brain.

In the beginning of my recovery, it used to make me very irritated when I  heard people say that depression was a disease, just like diabetes or heart disease.  How could something that had infested my brain and made me feel so rotten be nothing more than a disease? Surely, there had to be some other, fancier word for it, but there wasn’t.

It took several months of counseling for me to finally realize that all those people who had said that depression was a disease were right.  I finally understood and it had been my diabetes that had shown the way.

As a diabetic, every day is a maintenance day.  I have to monitor my blood sugar, give myself insulin shots, and I have to have a few people I can rely on, whose job is to let me know if I look like my blood sugar has dropped too low. There are consequences for not maintaining my diabetes properly.  If I let my blood sugar gets too high it makes me feel very bad and is very destructive to my body.  If I let it get too low then I could go into insulin shock and that is also bad for my body. It was when I was thinking about this routine, that I realized that I had set up something similar with my mental health maintenance.

There are things I have to do every single day, without exception, to successfully manage my depression. Daily, I have to remember to take three different medications, which add up to eight pills everyday just for the depression.  Making sure my mind is focused on positive things and not getting bogged down in negativity, is a very important step in my depression management.  That means not allowing anything or anyone to bring negativity in my life.  I watch my reactions to situations and people to make sure that I am not being overly emotional, and review my thinking to make sure it is logical.  I also have several people, who know me well, in addition to my counselor, who monitor my behavior.

To make sure that I always remember to take my depression medication and to take it at the same time every day, I carry it with me every where I go.  I have a special bag that goes into my purse, that bag holds all my medications.  That way if I am not at home and it is medication time, it is right there with me.  Keeping it in that bag also makes it much easier for me to keep track of my medication and its location.  After all, how hard can it be to overlook a bright purple bag with Tinkerbell on it?

I do several things to make sure my mind stays focused on the positive.  I read motivational and inspirational quotes every day.  Just having positive little sayings running around in my head is a huge help.  I also maintain a policy of always finding something positive in every situation.  There are certain types of movie and television shows that I no longer watch because they are too depressing.  Probably one of the most important things I do to keep my mind focused on the positive, is not allowing people to bring their negative behavior into my life.

I no longer worry endlessly about anything. If a worry does creep into my mind, I have a way of managing it.  I allow myself two “worry times” a day, each lasts no longer than fifteen minutes.  One is in the morning and the other is in the late afternoon.  I am not allowed to worry outside of those periods of time.  This prevents a chain reaction of negative thoughts from forming.

In addition to examining my own thoughts, making sure that they are staying logical, I have assigned several families to monitoring me as well.  They make sure that I am making sense when I speak and in how I behave.  They also look for clues in what I am saying that might indicate if my thinking is off kilter.  These people are very important in my depression management.

These are actually very simple things to do, and well worth any time they take up.  They have become part of my daily routine, just like managing my diabetes is part of my daily routine.  Now I am one of those people who say, Depression is a disease, just like Diabetes and Heart Disease.