What is a good day?

What is a good day? How do you define it? I guess it's different for everyone. For me, a good day used to be: being able to get through it without thinking bad things about myself, without feeling overwhelmingly sad and by noticing something positive. This may seem simple to some people and totally unachievable to others. Happiness is entirely personal. I can only speak from my own experiences, but I have found a path to happiness and although I take frequent detours, I am certain that I am on the right track.

At my lowest moments, I was an entirely different person to who I am now. I spent a lot of time alone, almost scared of having fun. I was frequently ill and almost constantly freezing cold. I didn't want to be touched and at times, my anxiety and OCD meant it was difficult to be around others. I would make excuses not to do things or I would genuinely feel so rubbish that I couldn't do things. I didn't have anyone I could really talk to, no one could empathise and few could sympathise. I felt alone.

Everything changed when I met someone who not only understood what was happening to me, but understood me. Suddenly I realised that I wasn't alone, I wasn't just imagining this and how I felt was not just "me" - things could change, I met someone who listened when I needed to vent, held me when I needed to cry and told me off when I needed telling. I can't put it any simpler than this; he saved me.

I realised that I hadn't laughed in so long - not genuine laughter. I had been coasting through life, not enjoying it but thinking this was how it had to be. I realised how wrong I was. He made me realise that there was so much life I was missing out on. I could be happy.

I began to notice so many positive things. I was on meds and no doubt, they were helping, but something else was too. I was so much more sociable, I didn't feel unwell and my ice like hands had become so much more bearable to hold. I could be myself and it was ok. Someone liked me when I was myself, sadness and all. I can't say how much this has helped me get to where I am. Despite his protests, I honestly don't think I'd have come so far without him.

I then had the courage to talk to other people, many of whom would reveal to me that they too suffer from this disease in some way. Suddenly my eyes were opened to how far the net of depression is cast. Each person has their own story, but the shared experience brings you together. I have really discovered who my friends are, and they are awesome.

For me now, a good day is when I wake up with an arm around me, feeling ok and I looking forward to an evening spent with friends. I will never underestimate the value of these things in my life.

Whilst every day certainly isn't a good day, I know that there will be good days and I have someone to share them with. More importantly, I know that even on the bad days, someone will be there to hold my hand, no matter how cold it is.

Side effects may include sleeping problems

For as long as I can remember, I've had problems sleeping. I envy people who get into bed and are asleep before their head hits the pillow. People who can sleep on long plane rides. People who can sleep through an earthquake. People who can sleep.

For me, even though I have pretty much learned to get on with my life without quality sleep of any kind, it is still one of the worst symptoms of depression. I love sleep. I have pretty much all the worst sleep traits going: I can't get to sleep, I wake up frequently and for long periods of time, I wake up with any noise / light / change in temperature. I suck at sleeping.

The problem is, combined with a mind that is racing at 100 miles an hour and full of negative thoughts, doubts, worries and paranoia, these things lead to a battle almost every night. I have read that a lot of people have a time when they wake up. For the longest time, mine was 3.50am. Ping - I'd be awake. I wouldn't even need to look at the clock, I knew what time it was.

I would then be awake for around 2 hours. I would never get up, because I thought if I get up, how will I get to sleep? I didn't do anything but think and wish that I could go back to sleep - all the while I would have very loud music playing in my brain. Over and over again. I couldn't stop the music, and often it would be the same (completely random, meaningless) song for a week. No wonder they use sleep deprivation as a form of torture.

When I started on my meds (Citalopram) they of course had the mandatory side effects list, including sleep problems. This didn't bother me as I really didn't think things could get worse. I never said I wasn't naive.

For the first month, I made a new friend, 4am. We would meet every morning and spend a few hours together. I was restless, uncomfortable, hot and bothered. I tried going to bed early, going to bed late, sleeping on the couch, but my brain was having none of it. On the plus side, I had a lot of time to think up hair brained ideas and update Facebook... silver linings and all.

Slowly but surely, this year my sleep came back to me. I made a lot of lifestyle changes and I started to feel happier. I slept through the night for the first time in as long as I could remember and I could barely believe it. I noticed the difference in my health too. It would seem that sleep really is rather important.

Unfortunately, I can't say that that's the end, my sleep issues are cured! They aren't. It's almost a good indication of my state of mind. If I'm updating Facebook at 4am, something is up. I'm sure this is a common problem for people with depression and if anything, I think my issues are mild compared to others' but that doesn't stop it feeling like I'm failing when I find myself awake again at stupid o' clock.

Currently, my sleep is hit and miss but I know that it can be ok and often is. There is hope and things can and do change, not always for the worst. Sometimes you have to let things get worse before they get better. For me, the bad nights are less frequent and the good days are winning the battle. That's all I can ask for.

How do you know when to stop?

Meds. You need them to level out. You need them to get back to a place you can barely remember being in the first place. You need them to keep going. But when do you stop needing them?

It's confusing: you take them to feel ok. So when you do feel ok, do you then stop taking them? How do you know when you're ready to stop?

So far, the advice I have found is 'talk to your GP', but as I have found, they don't always give the best advice, nor do they know you or your specific case. How can a 15 minute consultation really give them enough insight. I had a conversation with my GP that pretty much stopped me from going back to see her. It went like this:

Me: I think I'm feeling a lot better than I have been
Dr: Well your PHQ-9 score has only gone down by one point
Me: But I definitely feel better than I have, more positive...
Dr: Well I think we should increase your meds
Me: Erm, I'd rather wait a while and see how it goes
Dr: Well I am very impatient so I am keen to do this now
Me: I would really rather wait
Dr: Ok, well you don't look like you're about to go and kill yourself, so let's wait and see

Honestly. That happened.

So, my trust in my GP is somewhat shattered, which means I am hesitant to enquire about stopping the meds. I know I am not ready yet, it has only been 6 months (only?) but I have no idea when I will be ready. How do you stop your dependence on something like that? I literally have no idea and it scares me. Are the meds making me happy or am I making me happy? Is the life I have, my boyfriend, my friends, my family, the exercise I get... making me happy? Or is it a chemical induced lie? Will I come crashing down if I stop*?

My brain hurts just thinking about it. I guess I need to talk to other people who know what it is like, who have been there and done that. Maybe there is no answer. My brain hurts even more. I guess all I know is that I'm not ready yet, maybe one day I will wake up and know. Stranger things have happened. Until then, I will continue to pop a pill each evening and let the chemicals do their job.



*I know I can't just stop outright, but even stopping gradually is a scary prospect,

I. Am. Depressed.

The moment I realised it was a problem may have been a bit too late. Maybe it was 6 years too late, or maybe it can never be too late. I'm not entirely sure. But at least I realised, I guess. I am depressed. Not just a little bit sad, not unhappy about a few things. I. Am. Depressed.

I guess this is nothing new. I'm not the first, I won't be the last, I am no more important than anyone else who suffers or anyone who doesn't. I am me. As painful and as trying as that is, it's not always who I want to be, I wish I could escape and feel "normal" or even super human. If only I was Batman...

I try to be as honest as I possibly can and that includes talking about my depression. It isn't a source of embarrassment to me, in fact, the more people who know about it, the easier it is. You don't have to pretend, you can tell someone that today is not a good day - it really does help. But I wonder when that sympathy runs out. Maybe sympathy isn't the right word... understanding? Kindness? The fact is, people soon become bored of your ailments; physical or otherwise, so where do you turn to then?

I am becoming increasingly aware that unless someone has a solid understanding (and let's face it, this comes from personal experience) then they are quick to dismiss or try to explain away your feelings: "Maybe you're working too hard" or to suggest a cure: "You should get more sleep"

My personal favourite advice from Horrible Histories

Having been up and down for as long as I can remember, I am starting to wonder what I can do to "GET BETTER!" The first step I took on this road was to phone my GP for an appointment. You may or may not realise how hard this is. It took me 6 years. I mean, to muster up the courage, not that it was an insanely long waiting time for an appointment.

One Sunday in November last year, I left my house and I was completely unsure if I would be going back. I walked down to a bridge over the railway and watched the trains coming and going and more than anything, at that point, I wanted to step in front of one. This may not be what people want to hear, but as I said - I try to be as honest as I can. Something took me away from the train tracks and I wandered into town. I don't remember the walk, I know that I was crying and it was cold. I went to the park and I sat at a place that had a lot of meaning to me and all I know is that I sat there, crying for hours. Many people walked past me, but no one came over to me. I was grateful for that at the time.

I didn't know what to do.

Then I got a message from someone who was everything to me. He told me it was ok. He told me to go home, have a cup of tea. But I couldn't move. Yet something had broken the spell. I knew I could get up and go home, eventually. I sat in the cold for longer than anyone should and then I picked myself up and went for that cup of tea. The next day I made the phone call.

I had hoped that it would be an amazing cure, that whatever I was prescribed would make me feel like a "normal" person, but life isn't that easy. After the weeks of blurred vision, constant shakes and insufferable teeth chattering, I wasn't sure that things were any better. But I rode it out and slowly but surely, changes started to creep in. I noticed that my anxiety had decreased, I was starting to sleep for longer, I was feeling so much more sociable. Maybe things were looking up.

But that's not how this works.

Things come crashing down around you so quickly it is pretty much just like having the rug pulled out from under you. Each bad day or bad week knocks your confidence, makes you feel silly for even letting yourself think that you could be happy. It pushes your relationships to their limit and makes you question everything. Your brain is boss and it wants to remind you of this. It doesn't give you a heads up (no pun intended) "Hey, just letting you know that tomorrow will be a shit day, ok?" It can switch in a matter of seconds without any warning.

This makes me difficult to live with. In fairness, I am a bit of an annoying person anyway, so I salute anyone who can put up with me on a standard day, nevermind when I am at my lowest. It isn't easy to live with sadness, whether it is your own or someone else's. It's frustrating, contagious and hard to escape from. Having someone who can stand by your side, hold your hand and just let you know that it will be ok has been better for me than any CBT, forum or self help book. Sometimes a hug can help more than you could know.

So... why am I writing this? Today hasn't been great. Despite having a lovely day with good company, my brain is a mess. I am struggling. But once again I made a choice: start writing, get it out of my head. Even if I am the only person who ever reads this, that's ok because it helped me. It distracted my brain, it gave it a purpose. Not every day will be bad.

Anyway, I guess I should go and "Get more sleep". Batman didn't get where he is today without a good 8 hours a night...