My untold story..

Image source: tatcha

I don’t know how to describe my depression…it felt like a black hole…as if my mind was running on tunnel vision and I couldn’t see anything outside of that tunnel vision of negativity and grief. It got to the point that I lost interest in seeing any of my friends. I stopped going out. I slept in a lot. I cried a lot. I was going downhill. I could not snap out of it and all I could do was sit there and feel sorry for myself. I was conquered by my depression. It controlled me. I was a different person. The person that I never ever hoped to be.

Fast forward to a few months before I finally reached out to get some professional help.

It’s been 6 years now since I been on anti depressants. It took a lot of counselling sessions before a sweet counsellor over phone suggested that I go see a psychiatrist. Wrong move. I went along, though and asked my GP for a referral. What I don’t understand is to whether none of them; counsellor, GP, psychiatrist suggested that I see a psychologist first rather than to rely on medications to help me get better.

Either way it helped me get better. I was more assertive, more in control. I started to enjoy life and functioning like a normal person mentally. There would be times that I would feel down or overwhelmed by a traumatic event. It was normal. I was human. Anti depressants are not a happy pill. Rather than waking up with pessimistic thoughts, doubts and anxiety. I started to wake up every morning feeling rather ‘normal’. “Yes, today is a new day, a new chapter, I can’t wait what today will bring” I started to say to myself.

To be continued…