My Battle With Depression

My Battle With Depression

Depression.

I'm not sure when my battle with it started. Maybe it was lying dormant within me for years, and all the shit life can throw your way finally got to me. All I know is that it's forced me to fight demons and talk about the past. And when your past is a painful one, that's a really hard thing to do.

Early years

Looking back on things, I'm pretty sure this path to depression started back in 1990, when I was just in Kindergarten. There was a teacher (who shall remain unnamed, but not because of their innocence) who thought nothing of hitting her students. I can't speak for any of my classmates, but she made my life a living hell. I still see her from time to time, and while I've forgiven her for her misdeeds, I'll never forget how she made me feel.

But I digress.

I think that because she got away with what she did to me, others then saw that it was okay for them to do as well, and they wouldn't get punished. Years of teasing and bullying ensued. I was near tortured. I was pushed around, had a chair hauled out from under me, had broken paper clips put in my food (I'm forever thankful to a Pastor’s son who saw it and told me, and gave me money for food), and stuff stolen from my locker and burned. My life was a nightmare.

Home offered only temporary relief. My folks did the best they could, but their seamlessly endless bickering drove me to hide away in my room, away from all the noise. My room was my one safe place. As long as I had my books and my music, I was okay.

Things got a little bit better upon entering high school. Note I say “little bit”. The bullying stopped, as people grew up and out of it. Even though I still didn't fit in anywhere, school life was tolerable, especially in part to a few wonderful teachers that made me feel like I matter.

But then, in Grade 11, I was diagnosed with Aspergers Syndrome (high functioning autism). For weeks, months, maybe even years, I hated the diagnosis. This was just another thing that made me different. Add in my parents divorce, and other horrific events in 2002 (including having to give a statement to a police officer and watch a loved one get arrested), and its a wonder how I made it out of that year unscathed.

But something good did happen that year, something that I'm still thankful for. I discovered Great Big Sea. And in them, I found a place where I belonged; somewhere where I fit in. And it was at my lowest point that they pulled me back from the brink.

Highs & lows from Ontario

August 2009 should've been a happy time. For the first time ever, I got on an airplane and left Newfoundland for a few days. I flew to Ontario where I met up with Janice, Amelia, Paddy, and Chad. We had all meet earlier that year for a Great Big Sea show in St. John's, and had reunited for a show at the Molson Amphitheatre.

The whole trip was amazing. I got to see Niagara Falls, attended my first (and now only) GBS show outside Newfoundland, and even got to go to the Hockey Hall of Fame (a dream come true for this Habs fan).

Coming home was hard. I didn't want to leave. The thrill of being somewhere new was one of the best moments of my life. I didn't want it to end. But it had to, and I was left with a horrible low. Upon my return home, I crashed. Hard. My emotions became uncontrollable. I was sad and lonely despite being with family. I was convinced that I was a burden upon said family, and convinced they'd be better off without me. So, I did the only thing that made sense to me at the time:

I attempted suicide.

In the moments that followed, I remember tucking my knees to my chest and turning on music. I just wanted the pain to end; I was done with life, with everything. And then, something amazing happened.

Ordinary Day. It came crisp and clear through my headphones, and it was a wake-up call. And in that moment, I realized that what I had done was a mistake. Right around the same time, my Mom figured out what I'd done, and we rushed to the hospital. They made me drink this vile tar-like substance which made me sick. But at least I was still alive.

In 2014, a few wonderful things happened. First off, a bunch of Newfoundland celebrities (and their friends) got together and created a video about mental health awareness (click here - https://youtu.be/nOqbTHl7b1M). In watching this video, I felt not so alone in my fight. I finally felt that someone understood, and that it was okay to talk about what was going on.

And I did. I tweeted a couple of the guys who had appeared in the video, thanking them, because their support meant a lot to me.

As fate would have it, I would see one of those guys the very next month. And although he had not responded to that tweet, I knew he saw it, because the first words out of his mouth that night were “How are you doing?”, as he gave me a much needed hug. And that night I had the courage to ask him for lyrics (Ordinary Day) for my suicide survival tattoo. Although somewhat surprised, he agreed.

It's still a great source of strength to this day.

2015-Now: Seeking and receiving help

Last year, I finally sought out help. I knew that my depression and mood swings were too much to handle on my own.

In the midst of that hard time, I once again decided to get a tattoo that would help me through the dark times: Shine On.

From the moment I heard Shine On from Alan Doyle’s 2015 album So Let's Go, it resonated with me. Every word of the song felt like my life. It's like my thoughts had been sung out loud. I loved it and still do.

I had been planning to get a semicolon tattoo for sometime, a reminder to myself of where I'd been but would never return to. But there was one hitch. I couldn't nail down a design.

But then, I thought of Shine On and thought how perfect it would be. So I explained it to Alan on Twitter, and he agreed to send me the lyrics (as luck would have it, he misunderstood my request, and sent the lyrics to the entire song and they are now hanging on my bedroom wall. I got the tattoo after, and its still a bright light, a reminder to find some good in every day.

And then in October I started going to counseling, and taking meds. That combination has made me feel like myself again, a functioning and happy adult who is pursuing her passions and isn't afraid to take on the world.

Final thoughts

To those of you who may read this and are struggling right now, please know that you are never alone. Reach out to a friend or a loved one. Seek help. Talk to your doctor. There are people (and medications) out there that can help you. I can promise you that it does get better.

And I'm living proof of that. Never ever give up!