The Black Dog

Yes, I admit I have depression. I have always had it. I was a melancolic child, and was diagnosed with clinical depression in my early teens. I was on anti-depressants for 8 or so years, before I weaned myself off of them because I was sick of taking them.
Most of the time I can handle it and keep it under control.

Not now.

Since losing the baby in December, I have been spiralling downwards. I had been feeling "off" and a few months ago I figured out what was wrong. The depression was back. I figured it would cycle back out within a couple of months, as it had so many times before. But then it didn't. I am in deeper than ever, and I am afraid I will revisit my bad old days.

My bad old days was just as I left high school. Sarah had a break down and she pretty much lived in her bedroom for a year. My best friend just stopped communicating with anyone. And then my depression which I had been able to keep reasonably in check bloomed into something really scary. It took me many months to be able to function again. It is an experience that I would wish on no one.

And now I am afraid that it will happen again. And now I have Husband that I will end up dragging down with me.

I told Husband before we were married that I had depression, and that at the moment it was under control, but it probably will flare up occasionally. He said he understood. But he doesn't, not really. He is part of the 80% of society who does not suffer from depression, and never has, so cannot understand. He is wonderfully supportive, but just doesn't "get it". I feel guilty for doing this to him, but I cannot help it anymore than I can help my eye colour.

I have seen my GP, who is a lovely young woman who has referred me to see a psychologist (Thank goodness for Medicare and Mental Health Care Plans). Her name is Barbara and I will be seeing her this Saturday. I am nervous.

I have another admission, I also have an anxiety disorder. So it is either Clinical depression with an anxiety disorder, or an anxiety disorder with clinical depression. I can never remember which is the right way to say it. I have thankfully not had a panic attack for years, but I can feel it rising up inside of me. At the moment, I wake up in the night, panicing over stuff, and spend a couple of hours like that, before being able to fall back asleep.

I hope that I can get the help I need soon, I cannot cope with how things are.

I am sick of people saying that a Christian cannot be depressed, that if I prayed enough/believed enough/was a proper Christian, I would not be depressed. I would like to say to all of them, fine, if I cannot be depressed as a Christian, you cannot break your arm, or catch a cold. Depression is an illness, and God never said that Christians will be free from all illnesses before heaven