Lonely disease

Thank you to the Herald editors for the series of articles on depression and suicide. Thank you too, to the people who allowed their stories to be published. You put yourselves “out there” to help others.

I have depression. Mine is genetic and I am lucky I have never felt suicidal. Depression is the loneliest disease, both for the sufferers and for those who care for them. When at its worst, I need the love and support of my family, but at the same time I push them away by not communicating. It is lonely for the family because they never know what my mood will be.

My depression started just after puberty and will continue until I die. I was correctly diagnosed in my early 40s, went to counselling, and was prescribed one of the modern antidepressants. Within a month my life was dramatically changed. While I retained the six-weekly cycle of my depression, my moods were significantly lifted and I very rarely had the deep “downs” that were common before the treatment.

Looking back, the 25 years before my diagnosis were horrendous. My marriage nearly ended, my relationship with my children became superficial and my work suffered. All the while, depression was my “normal” and I was unable to tell when I was depressed.

Now, 25 years after diagnosis, my relationships with those around me — family, friends and colleagues — are greatly improved. I cannot thank them enough.

The most important thing I have learned through all of this is hope. When the “black dog” of depression is on you, never lose hope. Know that life will get better and that there are people around you who love you and are doing their best to support you.