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  • JB Miller

The dark truth behind Depression and Anxiety.


Hey guys, this is a very personal post and not something I have ever shared on here before. But, I think it’s time, in light of what has happened recently in the writing world.

I am willing to stand up and say, yes, I suffer from these monsters.

I wasn't always like this, once upon a time, I was outgoing, extroverted and pretty much a ball of awesomeness that was happy to ignore what the world thought of me.

I had dreams and visions and I was going to live them to the fullest. I had children and I had hardships, and I fought every battle from the front line as they came.

When my second born was diagnosed with Autism, I said 'Good.'

The doctors were horrified, but I had a reason then. I knew I hadn't screwed up as a parent and we could work with an ASD diagnosis. We had this.

Then on February 6th, 2007, something happened that I couldn't fix. I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried, I just could not make the situation better.

You see, on that horrible day, that should have been one of the happiest of my life, I had to say both hello and good-bye to my son.

His name was Thomas Archibald Lewis Miller, and this is him.

That was the beginning of my descent into madness. A madness that I would not even recognise for several months.

You see, I took charge. That's how I handled my grief. I bottled it up inside and locked it away and did what needed to be done.

Just FYI, that's not healthy.

Six months later, I had lost a lot of weight, wasn't sleeping, was surviving on coffee and then came the chest pains.

Honestly, I thought I was having a heart attack.

So, off I went to the doctor. Not because I was really concerned about my health, but because I had two young boys at home, and I had to keep going.

Honestly, I couldn't die and leave my husband to take care of them. That's child abuse. lol

Well, I wasn't having a heart attack, what I was having was stress related physical symptoms. My chest was tight and heavy, I could barely breathe. I thought I was going to fall over at any moment.

I was diagnosed with Stress and Depression and given Fluoxetine. I was on those little green pills for a few years. By the way, you don't stop taking meds because you feel better. If you do feel like you are in a place where you can stop, then you talk to your Doctor and you are weaned off them. Stopping meds cold turkey is never wise. Been there done that, it puts you straight back to step one.

However, I did come off the pills, even had another baby in 2012. She was a surprise! My whole family was on pins and needles my whole pregnancy. My kids were wary, as they knew that last time, the baby died.

In fact, my eldest would not have anything to do with my pregnancy because he didn't want to become attached in case the baby died.

She didn’t, and all is well... well you would think that. Evidently, even though I had been off the meds for a few years, and I was doing really well... something just wasn't right. It started with me just feeling blah... I can be bothered today.

That turned into an empty not caring stage. I was still able to carry on my day to day life, I just didn't really "Feel" anything.

That's when the light bulb went off, and once again, I took myself off to the doctor and they put me back on meds. It was the same as before, since they worked last time.

Unfortunately, I wasn't responding as well this time. My emotions were all over the place. The slightest thing could upset me, and I would crawl into my bed and hide.

Then came the Anxiety. She is an evil bitch, no two ways about it. It got to the point that I couldn't even put my son on the bus. I would have a panic attack just trying to go out the door and put him on the bus. My poor husband had to take over morning school duty.

We went together back to the doctors. By this time, I was a nervous wreck. He went in with me and held my hand, otherwise, I don't think I could have even made it to the doctors. This was after I had been to therapy (group). I couldn't even finish it, I started having panic attacks. I would get half way there and turn around. My head would start spinning and the cars around me felt like they were pressing in on top of me. I was terrified I wouldn't even be able to drive home.

When we went into the doctors, she made me have a mini panic attack. I remember grabbing my husband’s hand and holding on for dear life.

She asked if the children were being taken care of.

I freaked. A thousand thoughts ran through my mind. she’s going to call child services. They are going to take my kids away. I came here for help! OH GOD, I should never have come.

Thankfully, my husband was there, and he told her that he was there, and that yes, the children were being taken care of.

You see, I shut down. When I have an attack, I run away and hide. I become very sleepy. Think you have been up three days, and no matter how hard you try, you just can’t stay awake any more.

My own body turns against me and shuts down.

She doubled my meds.

Guess what, they are not working.

It’s getting worse and I am tired all the time. I freak out at little things. If the dishes haven't been done, it overwhelms me. The kids fighting? I can’t cope. The other day, it took everything I had to go and pick up my daughter from school.

It was Friday, and the mums of her class had planned a mum’s night out. I had been looking forwards to it for weeks, there was no way I could make it. I went home, picked up Hubby from work and went to bed.

The last week has been bad. Want to know why? I've gone back to University, and I had turned in my first essay and was waiting for it to come back. Even knowing that the tutor didn't have to have it back until Friday, it sent my anxiety haywire. I was an emotional mess. It took all weekend to get me back into a mind frame to where I was able to function like a human being.

Guess what, I'm going back to the doctors tomorrow. I don't want to, but I know that I need to. I'm fighting this every single day. I put on a smile and laugh and joke, and unless you look into my eyes and see me screaming out from inside, well. you would never know.

I am trying, and I am fighting every day. Fun Fact, I'm not the only one. This is a horribly invasive and deadly disease. It is silent, and it is invisible. You can’t see it, and the souls that suffer with it are wonderful actors. You would be amazed at what we can hide.

I just want to be me again. Maybe one day I will get there.

Thank you

Brandy


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