I was ashamed when I was first diagnosed 4 years ago. Despite mental health issues prevalence of 1 in every 4 people, it wasn’t a norm, it wasn’t publicly accepted. Now I no longer hide. I openly disclose my depression in hopes to build awareness in others. I wont lie that deciding to write this post took a lot of courage. But if I could stop 1 single person from getting to where I was, it would be worth being judged by everyone. I really do not want anyone to go through the same, and I hope people would seek help instead of hiding behind a mask.
That wasn’t how I started however. I didn’t felt ‘unhappy’. I didn’t avoid seeing my GP or refused to seek help for my mental health. I didn’t know I was depressed. I was a relatively happy-go-lucky A&E doctor. I loved my job, I love my patients and most importantly I love my colleagues. I laughed at work with my colleagues, made jokes to cheer up my unfortunate patients. Did I notice something was amiss? No.
Fast forward 2 months later I nearly ended my life. Nothing felt worth it. There was nothing to look forward to. It took a small argument between Mojujuju and I. What was I thinking? Nothing. Nothing was in my mind. I didn’t want anything. I didn’t want the sun to rise or the moon to shine. It didn’t matter if the sky was blue or grey.
But I wasn’t sad.
My tearfulness felt reasonable.
My lost of interest in everything seems justifiable by the fact that I was working under a busy schedule.
I was a doctor, and I didn’t know I was depressed. Neither did Mojujuju. In his view at that point of time, I was just being difficult. Everything upsets me, and he doesn’t understand why. PMS maybe?
Do you know what was the first thing the people close to me tell me when I disclose my diagnosis?
“Don’t think too much.”
“Cheer up.“
“It’s all in your mind.”
If it were that easy, if only it was that easy. Telling a person with depression to cheer up is like telling someone with migraine to stop feeling pain. I took 2 weeks off work and the first week, I could barely get out of the bed. I cried when being fed because I had no drive to eat. I cried being showered. My body felt as heavy as a mountain. My heart felt hollow. Everything I see and hear was static; like the TV channel was broken. Only it wasn’t the TV, it was my mind falling apart.
One and a half year later, I was free from any depressive episodes. My psychiatrist recommended for me to have my medication tapered and stopped. I was thrilled. I hated being on medication, Being on a daily medication felt like something a 70 year old grandma would do, not me. I’m young, I’m healthy, I wanted to be free of medication. Finally, my time has come.
Unfortunately 2 months after my medication was completely stopped, I was hysterical. I was easily agitated. This time, I did notice that I’m incredibly tearful. I was haunted by thoughts of killing myself AND my barely 1 year old baby (because who else would take care of him?). I ran away from Mr. Monday. I begged Mojujuju to take Mr. Monday away from me, afraid that I would be possessed by these horrifying thoughts. I begged my GP to ‘give me something, anything’ to take these pain away while wailing, full of tears. Took another few months for me to fully recover, but this time I have more insight than ever. I had a couple more major depressive episode after. Only a handful; but enough to make me ensure I am fully adherent to my medication.
Depression isn’t always about being sad and it isn’t something to be ashamed of. You wouldn’t shame somebody for having a heart attack so why would you shame someone for having depression?
I have since accepted that I may have to be under anti depressant for a long time, if not forever. But if taking them keep me sane, I’ll be more than happy to. Unfortunately it is not something easily understood by those back in Malaysia. When I told them that I need my medication, they tried to advise me that it is… in short, a placebo effect. That I am the one thinking that I can’t live without my medication. That I am thinking too much. That I simply need to cheer up. Neither of these are helpful, and to be honest very frustrating to hear.
As difficult as it is to describe the pathophysiology of depression, I have learnt to accept it in the way a diabetic has to accept their illness. I truly hope that the people important to me will one day be able to see it that way too. Depression, like how a diabetic lacks insulin, the brain lacks neurotransmitters which help regulate mood. Like how a diabetic needs insulin, I need my anti depressant and I will not be ashamed of it.