There isn’t a better way to express how I am feeling as each day feels worse than the day before. I hate feeling miserable, tearful, short tempered with one person and tired all of the time. What is adding to my very low mood is the pain in my hips. At the moment the only line open to me potentially is steroid injections as I know physiotherapy is only temporary solution. My hips aren’t bad enough for me to have hip replacements so my choice is to put up with the pain.
My fear may be irrational where steroid injections are concerned but I saw the problems my Mum had. She was asthmatic all of her life and was eventually offered steroids as a way to potentially improve her life. A side effect was bloating and weight gain which I knew got her down as it was something beyond her control unless she chose to cut them out of her life. A number of years ago I did have a steroid injection in my right wrist and should have had two more but I couldn’t go through with having all three.
My depression is an ever decreasing circle where my good days are getting fewer. Wearing a mask is the one way that I can keep people at arm’s length as they think I’m hapy.
I am sitting with my laptop on my lap ready so here I go, “My name is Philippa and I suffer with severe depression.”
Does that scare you?
Does it make you feel awkward?
Is your instinct want to change the subject?
The subject of depression does affect people in these ways but it’s also okay to be honest. You can leave and go back to your comfort zone or you can read. If you decide to read it may help you to understand better.
Depression still has a stigma, depression sufferers still suffer in silence, people still commit suicide because they are at rock bottom. Me?
Well yes I have suffered with depression for most of my life but have only been open for the past ten years. Why?
I didn’t understand that I did suffer with depression for several years. At 19 years old I had my son – that’s another story which will be touched on – and I knew I was suffering with post natal depression. But. It didn’t stop there. I still suffered in silence. I was expected to get on with my life and act as if ours was a well adjusted family to the outside world. But. I still couldn’t talk about how I was really feeling. I was just ‘moody’. I was a ‘drama queen’. There were people far worse off than me. Silence. I put on my mask and got on with my life. The alternative?