A Darkness That Could Be Felt
A DARKNESS THAT COULD BE FELT
My Aunt Wilma used to say “Everyone is peculiar but me and thee and sometimes I wonder about thee.” Unless you’re a Dennis Rodman type you probably don’t want to be
“peculiar.” Whether I wanted it or not, when I was hit with major depressive disorder I was definitely peculiar. Saying I was difficult was an understatement.
Here is a glimpse of my “normal” to broaden your comprehension of my “abnormal.” I want people to see how odd the thought processes become for someone experiencing severe depression. Granted, I am not the most exciting person on the planet. I never did drugs, went to the Olympics, or jumped out of an airplane. Reading, cooking, gardening, hiking, and enjoying all kinds of people are my favorite activities. My favorite role was that of being a mother. My favorite career was being an RN.
Growing up on a farm contributed to my love of nature, gardening, and animals. My most loved activity was rocking my children to sleep when they were babies. I enjoy many very ordinary things, like working in my garden on a warm summer evening while listening to the crickets chirp.
At the age of forty eight every enjoyment I had vanished when I was submerged into major depressive disorder. It was extremely stressful for my family to be with me. The ordeal began while I was being treated for a yearlong flare with Crohn's disease. When I had a bad reaction to one of my medications my life spiraled out of control and my mind took a free fall into hell.
A bad reaction to this medication, if treated incorrectly, can temporarily cause your brain to swell. Normal brain function had ceased. I could read but couldn’t understand what I read. I spent hours one day reading again and again directions on how to order medications from a mail order pharmacy. I didn’t make the order because I could not understand what I read. Anxiety skyrocketed because I didn’t understand why I couldn’t perform a simple task. This inability to understand seemed to be everywhere, it seemed I couldn’t put words into sentences. Delusions were there from the start. I continued to deteriorate, developing hallucinations and delusions. My behavior became stubborn and uncooperative, I refused to get out of bed. I did not know why I did this. Sleeping in was not my norm. When it seemed my self-esteem couldn’t get any lower, I began to see myself as the worst person on the planet. All creation would see I was the worst of all.
At this point, I needed a psychiatrist who began the slow process of finding the right antidepressant. He linked my depression to the medication side effect. He said it’s the only way depression comes on that severely and suddenly.
I could no longer comprehend the person I had been. I could no longer function for the sake of my husband or children. This is the greatest tragedy of mental illness. You lose your very self. Deterioration of my mind continued. One day I was alone in our upstairs. Suddenly it was as if my brain became detached from my body. My legs and arms were moving, I was running, but I didn’t know where they were taking me. I only recognized the moment, as if something else was moving me. I jumped from a window, falling twenty feet onto cement. My thoughts had taken on a life of their own and were like a runaway freight train that had jumped the tracks. The psychiatrist told me I had what is known as a psychotic break. He explained that the brain chemical serotonin had dropped so low that there was an actual break in the transmission of nerve impulses between my body and brain.
From that point on my life has been in a wheel chair because of the spinal cord injury I sustained in the fall. People remark about my good attitude at being in a wheel chair. My attitude is what it is because I am so incredibly thankful to be out of the depression. Being in a wheel chair is nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to every second of agony in the depression.
Of course the trauma to my children and my husband was significant. Many of you have experienced the heart ache of having the person you know essentially disappear, their body is there but their mind is not the same. Even now, almost 20 years later, I just cannot think about the horrendous impact on my children.
After the depression I appreciated normal life immensely. All my problems, current and past, seemed insignificant when compared to the nightmare of the depression. Antidepressants, along with exercise, journaling, positive thinking, listening to music, and psychiatric treatment helped me to maintain wellness. My psychiatrist uses cognitive behavioral therapy, which looks forward and helps me change what I think about to make it more positive. This therapy has been very helpful for me. Once again I am the person I was for the first forty eight years of my life.
Being an evangelical Christian I want to add something for the other evangelical Christians involved with NAMI. Throughout history the church has fed the hungry, helped victims of natural disasters, built orphanages and hospitals, worked to outlaw slavery, rehabilitated drug addicts and more. The church is made up of imperfect human beings; therefore some churches have kicked the mentally ill and their families when they were down. Others offer them loving kindness and encouragement, walking through the trials with them.
Jesus is our example. Look with me at how Jesus interacts with the mentally ill according to Matthew 4:23-2 KJV “And Jesus went out about all Galilee teaching in the synagogues and preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing all manner of sickness and all manner of disease among the people. And His fame went throughout all Syria and they brought unto Him all sick people that were taken with diverse diseases and torments, and those that were possessed with devils, and those who were lunatic; and those that had the palsy; and he healed them.”
Those of us who personally experience mental health issues can be role models, encouragers, and educators for others as we infuse Jesus’ mercy in our outreach to those in need. I have enjoyed being an encourager to the many people who have walked into my life dealing with mental health issues. In a way only God can do, He has used my own pain to lessen the suffering of others and show them the light of hope at the end of the tunnel.