A post which I made a few years ago which gives some first hand experience of depression:
I don't really know why I'm posting this, I guess sometimes it just helps to tell people and find people who know a bit what you're feeling like - not like the NHS is helping. Since like january last year I've been in a pretty bad way, it started with sitting in my room crying, smoking a lot of weed, drinking vast, vast amounts of alcohol and self-harming, then moved onto casual sex just for the closeness it provided with people I actually didn't give a **** about. I never went out, stopped going to lectures, just sat in my room eating nothing, drinking loads and staring at the screen trying to find a way not to just kill myself there.
My very few friends and uni tutor convinced me to get help, but when I managed to get the courage to see a GP, he told me it was just a regular teenage phase, that I was fine and should just piss off. I cried so badly when I got home from that; it was like he thought I was making it up, everything got much worse and I felt terrible, it stopped me seeing a doctor again for ages though I did get counselling at uni. I was also really paranoid around now, scared of people breaking into my room so I kept a knife under my pillow and a hockey stick by my bed, when I went out it was always in clothes I could run and hide in and it felt like everyone was talking and laughing at me. I was scared of everything.
oh yeah and if you haven't guessed I have pretty ****ing awful insomnia which is why I can post something so long before 7am. I've had about an hour combined sleep tonight in 10 minute or so bursts.
Fast forward a bit; over the summer I quit the self-harm (mostly), drinking, sex & drugs but I still felt ****ing appalling. Finally saw my home GP and got given citalopram and told I've apparently got depression. The citalopram didn't really touch it, and made my already severe paranoia even worse, I hated going out. I hated doing anything still and would just sit and cry for hours. Once I got into a bad situation of being on my own late at night outside and started hearing voices - I was just running in the dark, crying, then hiding in bushes, trying to get rid of them from screaming what a useless **** I was and that I should just end it all.
End of summer back at uni I had a different GP, given prozac which omg, made me want to kill myself so badly, it was like a punishment that stuff, I felt like someone had grabbed all my feelings and ripped them out of me. I was just dead inside, like a zombie, I couldn't take it and took myself off it after 4 days - cue appalling withdrawal symptoms for a week. Next reboxetine which I'm still on despite it making me a total insomniac, I've had about 5 different sleeping drugs over the last few weeks and none have given me more than about 2 hours a nice consistently so I'm exhausted all the time and still feel bad. I'm a bit scared of the dark because I see spiders which I'm terrified of, so have to lie in bed with a candle. I also had a situation in the uni library where I ended up just sobbing as I had some weird awake dream thing; all I could think about was ripping my arms to bits as punishment for upsetting a friend accidentally. I could see the cuts and the blood pouring out of my arms whereever I looked, I could even smell it, so I just sat crying waiting for it all to go away which took ages. But at least I managed not to hurt myself.
I'm not entirely sure how much I can take. I often feel suicidal, the drugs do nothing, the GP won't refer me to a specialist, I keep wanting to hurt myself again, or drink a load with the useless sleeping pills so I can sleep. I've even considered taking the remaining prozac pills to give myself the horrible feelings I got on them to punish myself when I do something wrong. I'm still crying all the time, uni work is getting impossible but the paranoia has lifted enough for me to go out though seems to be getting a little worse this past 2 weeks. Also my anger is getting out of control, I've always had a problem with it but now I'm getting really angry at just the smallest things. I feel nothing but anger and sadness, occasionally, like now, I just don't feel anything really, vague sadness but this is a better moment. I'm not entirely sure what else to do, and I've just realised how long this post is. Damn, no one will read it. I'm not even sure what I want people to say if anything, I don't know. I hate people saying that people with depression should just pull themselves out of it, or that taking drugs to try control it is the weak cowards way out. Them people don't know what they're talking about, I would never wish this on anyone.
Anyway, yeah, I don't know even if to push the "post reply" button, I guess I can just wander off into obscurity if it goes wrong so there's no harm in it. I'm not feeling too bad right this minute actually...I guess it's the fact it's freezing cold in here and completely quiet except for me typing. I like when no one's about, I don't even trust the people I live with.
I don't know what to do about anything.
An overall summary of my depression
I never had any friends at school, I was always the outsider bullied constantly throughout my time at school, I guess that's what caused me to self harm to begin with. When I was about 14 I was cutting daily after school, people would tell me I was worth nothing and I took the resulting self hatred out on myself. I did it for a couple of years without getting found out, stopped when the bullying scaled back in the last couple of years at school.
At university everything changed, I had friends for the first time and life was good. I fell out with these friends over a misunderstanding (obviously caused by my complete inability to interact successfully with people) and this caused massive reactive depression. I was drinking every day ridiculous amounts, cutting again because I felt so alone and hated myself so much and smoking a lot as well. I didn't eat for weeks and lost loads of weight, I stayed up all night watching south park in my underpants and all day too actually. I rarely went to class and didn't follow when I did go.
About this time I saw a doctor when my new friend (later girlfriend) told me she thought I might be depressed. The doctor told me I was fine, apparently this is all normal behavior. Over the summer things got even worse, I was permanently in a state of drunken, malnourished, sleep-deprived-ness, finally I got the courage to see another doctor who instantly told me I needed medication no question about it.
Started citalopram, the first of so many different antidepressants. Felt nauseous and headachey for a few days but little else. After no effect for a couple of months the doctor changed it to fluoxetine, those first few days on fluoxetine were absolute hell. It was like the worst flu imaginable. I quit after 4 days, it was intolerable. Next came 7 more antidepressants, each failing to have any effect just side effects every time. Weight gain, insomnia, nausea, headaches, earaches, insatiable hunger, too much sleep, terrible concentration, etc etc etc. Meanwhile I dropped out of university to try focusing on getting better. This was a terrible mistake. It meant I had nothing to do but think all day, and when you're depressed your thoughts are horrible to be alone with. Out of desperation I applied to another university, I couldn't stand the lack of focus in my life, I needed to distract myself.
I struggled so much at this new university, I didn't make a single friend in the 3 years I was there. My self harm spiraled out of control, I'd started hallucinating regularly and antipsychotics were added to my antidepressants. The side effects of the antipsychotics were even worse. I gained 4 stone in a couple of months and on one of them, again I went through several, I was sleeping upwards of 17hours a day. I couldn't think, I couldn't concentrate, I still drank too much, I still did nothing but go on my computer every waking hour or stare lifelessly at the wall wishing for death. Nothing was fun, I had zero motivation for anything, I hardly went to classes and to this day I'm still amazed they didn't kick me out. Every first year essay was given in late, most second year ones also late, exams were barely passed but still I soldiered on, I would not quit.
Near the end of final year I hit my lowest point, a mixture of stress and other factors meant I attempted to kill myself and was forced (well "voluntary" technically but not really) to go into a psychiatric hospital, there I was started on a new drug, amisulpride, which amazingly did absolute wonders. It's a few weeks later and I feel better than I have in years, I don't remember ever feeling this good. I feel positive about the future, I can feel motivated again, things like playing video games or watching south park are fun again, all in all it's pretty incredible the change. I was let out of hospital and although I'm still under the crisis team things are really looking up.
I'm so glad I never quit at uni because in a week's time I will have finished totally. It took so much effort to get to this stage but I think it's paid off, I feel good, I nearly have a degree I worked my ass off for, I have a beautiful fantastic girlfriend and my life is finally looking up. I'll be living somewhere new, will hopefully get a job and make friends and finally, finally, finally be happy.