As a teenager we lived next door to a lady with depression. She and her husband were lovely people, they would always stop and chat, but sometimes she would retreat and we wouldn't see her for months. Instead we would only see Ernie on his daily walk. Then suddenly she would be back beside him with long hair (Gladys always had short hair). I didn't really take much notice but can remember my mum commenting about Gladys and her long hair meaning she had been depressed. Now, looking back, I can see how they were connected. How Glady wouldn't want to leave the house and thus her hair would grow and she would look unkempt when she did reappear. I get it now.
Growing up depression wasn't really something I knew much about. I know members of my family have suffered with it but it just kind of passed me by. After all we all have sad days or short periods. Well that's what I thought. Just get on with it. Keep smiling.
However my short periods would get longer and I would retreat retreat retreat. Then I would sort myself out and get back on track.
Then suddenly it happened. I couldn't see a way out. I was drowning in my own mind. Covered in a heavy blanket of lethargy and self loathing. There were a number of things that happened (I will put these in a different blog) and finally I found myself crying to my doctor.
What depression means to me now is a little tablet that I have to take everyday to stop the drowning. It doesnt always work and I definitely still have bad days but I know without it I would be a lot worse.
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