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Depression Guide and Personal Experiences (post your experience with Depression)

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Take our short survey, £100 of Amazon vouchers to be won! 23-09-2016

    Another thing - there should probably be a bit on different types of therapy available (I can't really comment since I've not yet had any). *sits back and waits for others to do all the hard work*

    Edit: Also some stuff on self harm wouldn't go amiss.

    Hello everyone, I guess this is my story.

    When I was 14 I started to feel "different" from everyone else, and I just wasn't enjoying life, starting to under perform in school and became very cold and angry with people. I never thought anything of it, but one night it reached a point, and I self harmed. About a week later my parents found out about my self harm, and tried to take me to the doctor, but I refused. Instead they went and insisted that I got a referral to CAMHS (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services... I think). Initially the doctor refused, saying they needed to see me, but eventually, after my dad phoned many times, I got an assessment at CAMHS.

    I was then diagnosed with Depression and I saw a counsellor once a week. However over time, there was no improvement and I started to become suicidal. I then moved to meetings twice a week and I started to see a psychiatrist who put me on Fluoxetine (Prozac). Over time, I started to see improvement, and eventually, after about a year in their care, I was discharged.

    Luckily I managed to gain enough motivation to do well in my GCSEs and I lasted through AS's relatively untouched by depression. However in March of my A2's, I noticed my self esteem was dropping and I was becoming more down. However I said nothing and continued on. Over time it did get worse, and very quickly (I did see a college counsellor, but they dismissed that anything was wrong). Eventually one night, after multiple triggers I broke down while out in town with some friends while celebrating leaving college. I experienced a brief episode of paranoia where I was convinced that I was being followed and was going to be killed. This breakdown was followed by several serious suicidal plans. After this, I decided to see my doctor, and I got referred to a psychiatrist with suspected Bipolar Disorder. Unfortunately, as I was about to move out of the area, there was nothing they could do.

    I then had to start all over again! I had to go to my doctor, but he was reluctant to refer me to the CMHT (community mental health team), and I was put on a series of anti-depressants over about 5 months (fluoxetine, citalopram, escitalopram, venlafaxine and duloxetine). I was meant to get CBT at the same time, but my PCT (primary care trust) kept screwing me over. Eventually I managed to arrange some counselling by myself, and I attended that for about 3 months. As my counselling was coming to a close I was still as bad as I was before, so I went and saw a private consultant psychiatrist, who after a consultation, came to the conclusion that I was suffering from Bipolar Disorder Type II, and wrote a letter to my GP suggesting that I was put on mood stabilisers and receive CBT.

    While this was going on I was having great mood swings and being very suicidal and impulsive. One day I confessed all my suicidal thoughts to my counsellor, who then called my GP as she was worried I was going to commit suicide. Based on her suggestion and the letter from the private consultant, he referred me to the local CMHT on an urgent basis (which meant I was seen within a week).

    Since moving into the care of the CMHT I have had a few assessments, and my diagnosis was changed from Cyclothymia to Emotionally Unstable (or borderline) Personality Disorder, which actually explains everything! I can't start any treatment yet as I will be moving to a new area soon for uni, but when I move there I should be starting DBT. I'm also on Depakote (a mood stabiliser) and Mirtazapine to help with my depression and mood swings, and hopefully the DBT will help with my self harm and just provide me with something to help me cope better. BPD, for me, is like not knowing how to react, and I always seem to overreact to everything, resorting to self harm and suicidal behavior too quickly.

    It's been a bit of a trek and the hardest bit is sometimes actually getting the help, but even if your doctor doesn't seem to believe you, keep trying because something will eventually work out.

    Things started from me in secondary school: was bullied for about 5 years by various people, which made me extremely paranoid and nervous when walking to, from and around school. Around the end of Year 9 I became unhappy in my friendship circle. Put up with things for another year but then shifted to a new group of friends and hid in the Music department. During sixth form I realised I was depressed but didn't want to get help whilst at home. I figured I could wait until I got to uni. I picked an Oxford college to apply to partly because it had a lake which I could easily drown myself in if necessary.

    Missed the grades for Oxford but was let in anyway. I was quite confused as to how I'd managed to get in. One of my tutorial partners was quite shocked to hear I hadn't got straight As and was very rude about it, saying how I didn't deserve to be there. Was psychologically abused by him for a whole academic year but was also the only person who knew about his bipolar and thus had to prop him up and deal with his highs and lows. He was nearly chucked out of Oxford because of his bullying ways.
    Struggled on the work front due to being way behind the others due to differing interests and having had to teach myself my A Level Music and thus not being as well prepared as I could have been. Suicidal thoughts pretty much every day. Didn't do well in exams.

    Second year I began to shake the whole time, though often not visibly. This was put down to a virus, even though I'd had plenty before and never shook. Had a first episode of psychosis where I thought my tutors were trying to kill me and was seriously paranoid. Terrifying but I didn't understand what was going on, so I kept my feelings to myself.
    Tutor accused me of lying about illness. Huge fights about options, resulting in a lot of nasty things being said that damaged my self-confidence and shattered it to pieces.

    Went to Sri Lanka and had lots of private medical tests done: blood, heart, MRI brain scan. Nothing. Neurologist sends me to a psychiatrist who diagnoses mild depression and anxiety and sends me back to the neurologist. Back in the UK, I get my GP to write a letter to my tutor. He suddenly starts being sympathetic.

    I approach two welfare tutors for help and become extremely attached to one of them, who is equally extremely fond of me. I mention to her in passing that I hear voices and she asks me to see a GP. GP sends me to a psychiatrist at my local trust. He thinks it's early stages of psychosis and wants to set up a joint psychiatric care programme. In trying to hurry things along, the Oxford tutor in charge of my academic welfare frogmarches me to a GP there, triggering a six month psychotic episode and nervous breakdown during which I'm unable to work and have hallucinations, voices, paranoid thoughts and general inability to function. Oxford psychiatrist just thinks I'm "very troubled" and sends me on my way. Peak of this episode is a suicide attempt just before Easter. Somehow manage exams and go back to London, where I'm sent back to a psychiatrist.

    Next few months are a haze. Eventually agree to try medication and am offered CBT and a CPN. Mirtzapine doesn't suit me, so we change to Sertraline and throw Risperidone into the mix. Probing from psychiatrist results in a fresh episode which started in February and is currently ongoing.

    Maybe this doesn't sound too bad but I've left out lots of it coz it's rather raw and painful for me at the moment. It's hell

    Here's a video I posted in the Depression Society. I admit it's a little bit silly, but it does tell a bit about my experiences with depression:


    (Original post by superwolf)
    Here's a video I posted in the Depression Society. I admit it's a little bit silly, but it does tell a bit about my experiences with depression:

    Thank you for sharing :lovehug:

    I was brought here by superwolf ^^ :yep: to share a couple of videos that I've made... to be honest I don't really tend to go into my experiences that much, but thought I'd post here anyway. The first is just a bit about me and some stuff I've been through, the other is something I made to help a friend of mine... dunno if it'll make other people feel better too. It's a song I listen to when I'm feeling bad. :suith:


    (Original post by souldoubt)
    Thank you for sharing :lovehug:

    Wow your first video made me cry! I'm so glad you're overcoming the bullying and abuse.

    (Original post by PointeShoes-x)
    Wow your first video made me cry! I'm so glad you're overcoming the bullying and abuse.

    Thank you for watching it :hugs:

    I will copy and paste a blog post I made last week... last thurs was 3 years ago to the day that 2 years of depression got me this low... read on to the end. There is a hopeful ending.

    Three years ago today, I had a breakdown and got scarily close to ending my life.

    I'd been breaking down over the weekend... beginning a friday until 3 years ago today (I say until, of course it wasn't all that simple)
    I was at my absolute lowest. I was having help. On the friday I had an appointment with a connexions lady, who was lovely and tried to help me more than the "professionals" did... I remember sobbing for over 3 hours with her. I just couldn't stop, couldn't cope, felt unable to go home. She tried to have me referred to hospital, tried an emergency referral with a supported housing place, Called my psych (I don't remember if she wasn't there or was just unhelpful) in the end all she could do was make an emergency appointment with my gp and put me in a taxi... the gp was horrible and got annoyed when I'd been there 10 minutes because that was the allotted appointment time.

    I think I exhausted myself and ended up going home anyway.
    I don't remember any of the weekend.

    On comes monday, I have my LAST EVER appointment with the psych at CAMHS (that terrified me a bit... the prospect of having no proper help and support_
    I remember leaving the house feeling desperately low. I really couldn't stand feeling like that any longer. I wholeheartedly wanted to GET OUT any way I could.
    As I remember, I had an appointment with the above mentionned supported housing group in the morning, then the psych.
    The CAMHS place is on a busy road, and I remember walking down and seeing a bus and REALLY REALLY wanting to throw myself under it. I decided I might as well go to the appointment, an hour or so wasn't going to make much difference, and if I felt no better, that was it, I was going. I don't think I consciously thought it, but if I felt even the slightest bit better, I thought maybe there was some hope.
    So I was 2 HOURS LATE for the appointment somehow. Not surprising given my state of mind really. But I was SO SO bloody lucky that I could see her anyway as she wasn't seeing anyone else. Had I not been able to see her, I would have walked out and I might not be typing this.
    I told her what I had wanted to do before coming in, that if I felt no better on leaving I intended to go through it. She didn't take it seriously. When I asked if Adult services had accepted the referral she told me they hadn't. I wasn't severe enough!!! :jawdrop:
    I don't know what happened in the rest of the session, but when I came out, somehow, I felt a little better. So I went home, and from then. I slowly started getting better by myself, with no help from doctors.

    Maybe I had to hit rock bottom before I could get back up again, But I believe that in feeling that littlest bit better, I had realised that there was hope, and I clung onto that for dear life.

    It might seem strange that I remember this day, this date. I don't even remember what happened on my 18th birthday, which was 2 weeks later. But I can't forget this date. I don't think back on it and wallow. Today I feel reflective, emotional, grateful, hopeful, lucky and glad to be alive. This was the date that I really learned the three things I always remember now and keeps me going.

    We are capable of more than we believe we are
    We ALWAYS have a choice
    There is ALWAYS hope.

    In the last 3 years I've had my ups and downs, I've had mini relapses and managed to pull myself out again. I'm in the process of doing so now. But I've found what works for me, and I'm working on it now. Sometimes I just forget, and I need a taste of depression to shock me into working myself out of it. I believe sometimes we need to experience what we don't want to be to carry on creating ourselves as who we really are. Like I said, I've worked out what works for ME and it doesn't involve doctors.*
    I do NOT want to find myself back to where I was 3 years ago today.

    I love who I am.
    I love life.
    I'm not putting down or dismissing doctors, I'm only saying that the help they offer doesn't work for me, if it works for you, thats great

    I'm bored, why not.

    I'm Rachel and I'm 19. The first time I felt like there was something wrong was when I was 14, in year 10. I had always been quiet at school but I had one very close friend and through her I was able to be considered a part of one of the very set friendship groups at my girls' school. But I always felt like an outsider, like the people I called my friends tollerated and included me but didn't actually like me. One day one of these friends came into school with invitations for her birthday party and I was the only one in the group not invited. That evening I went home and cut myself for the first time.

    I don't know what made me do it - I guess I'd seen classmates come into school with scratches on their arms and then receive hugs and attention from everyone else all day. It seemed to be what you did if you were seriously upset.

    As well as the initial high cutting gave me I felt almost smug for the next few days. However my 'friends' treated me they didn't know that I had my scars under my jumper - my secret, real friends.

    My depression escalated quickly - within two months I was seriously suicidal. It was the christmas holidays and I wasn't getting on with my parents, I think they put my moodiness down to being a badly-behaved teenager. I planned to jump out of my bathroom window and dive towards the garden as if it was a swimming pool. If all went to plan I would break my neck and die instantly. It really scares me how close I got - one evening I climbed onto the window ledge before deciding I couldn't do it.

    Luckily the suicidal thoughts went away on their own once I went back to school in January and got back into a routine of lessons and homework to keep me occupied. My self-harm continued to get worse for a while but by summer it had dried up.

    Year 11 was better and the old scars slowly faded. The following summer was even better - I got good GCSE results, went on an amazing holiday to California and even got asked out by a boy! I was looking forward to college and applying to uni after that - maybe Cambridge!

    However, things didn't go to plan. I hated my body and started a diet which rapidly descended into bulimia which controlled my life. I started self harming again worse than ever. After about 6 months of getting worse and worse I snapped and attempted suicide. It came on suddenly, one day I just decided to overdose.

    I ended up in A&E and although it was a horrible experience I was able to finally get the help I needed. I was referred to CAMHS and saw a psychiatrist and CPN the next day. I was put on 20 mg of fluoxetine and given weekly appointments with the nurse. I didn't get better though and I soon stopped taking my medication. I don't think I really wanted to get better - I hadn't hit rock bottom yet.

    For the next year things carried on without changing much. My eating disorder got worse, then better, as did my self harm, but a year after my suicide attempt I found myself back in the same situation - desperately depressed, cutting myself deeper every day and skipping lessons to eat and puke food. I started to stockpile pills to overdose on and took a couple of smaller overdoses, I guess as 'practice'.

    Luckily my parents realised what was happening this time. They searched my room while I was at a party, found my pills and took me straight to A&E which was probably a good thing as I was drunk and planning to overdose when I got home.

    This time the person I saw at A&E decided I wasn't safe and I was admitted to hospital. Luckily I was a few months under 18 and was able to go to a children and adolescents' unit. I spent 6 weeks there and I can honestly say it really helped me. At first it just kept me safe, but the supportive staff and patients really helped me feel better. I started on fluoxetine again and this time went up to 60 mg which really did lift my mood. There was a school attached to the unit and my case teacher was so nice to me, it made me feel better about myself. Just being away from home was like being on holiday, not having to deal with the stress of my parents, college or choosing what to eat.

    When I was discharged I was in a much better place but that was only the start of my recovery. My self harm wasm just as bad as before I'd been admitted to hospital but I was less suicidal. I tried going back to college but couldn't deal with it, so I was allowed back to the hospital as a day patient so I could access the school which gave me a safe environment in which I could try and study for my A levels. I had to teach myself the material I'd missed.

    My exams didn't exactly go well but luckily I'd scored highly enough in previous tests to get the grades I needed for uni. I left the hospital for good after my last exam and over the summer things slowly, slowly improved. At first I wasn't sure whether or not I should actually go to uni but I made a decision to go for it and that gave me something to strive to be well for.

    I think one of the main things in my recovery was the therapist I saw over the summer. My dad gets private medical insurance through his work so I was able to see a CBT therapist at The Priory. She was really good, she was able to explain where some of my issues had come from and really helped me unpick my thoughts and feelings. I feel much better equiped to deal with difficult situations since seeing her.

    In September I left for uni and I have to say it was the best thing I've done in my life, I'm a lot happier away from home. I met a boy who has been so amazingly wonderful and supportive. I still struggle sometimes and I'm still on 40 mg of fluoxetine, but from my worst things have improved X 100000000000000. I'm working on putting this episode of my life behind me and moving on to better things.

    Wow, sorry it's such an essay! For anyone who's feeling really bad, do remember that it will get better. Trust me I know that it feels like it won't, but it will.

    Some of your experiences really brought tears to my eyes and I think it's amazing that you're still holding on to be honest. :hugs:

    My experiences are probably nothing compared to some of yours, but I thought I'd share anyway, even if it seems a little silly.

    I have always been held outside for most of my life, when I lived in my home country I was bullied and pushed outside because my family was not like everyone elses but I seemed to be able to deal with it as a younger child.

    The depression probably started in year 9, my first year at school in this country. At first it was exciting, but I felt alien to everyone and people treated me like I was stupid. Everytime someone asked about my life or me they would have that smile, the kind where you can tell there's a hidding meaning to this question and no matter how you answer they will laugh at you. I dragged myself through the year with as little work as I could get away with, my motivation was near nothing and I didn't just feel alone, I felt so strangely empty. The people I spent time with in school, and I meant spent time with and nothing else, would save me a seat at lunch and rarely ever talk to me, finally summer came and I found an escape in my horse riding. Spending hours in the mountains with my horse, telling her about everything and how I was feeling actually helped me for the time being, even if she didn't understand me, it felt like she was listening. It felt like when I was riding I was in limbo for the time being, stuck in my own little bubble, away from the rest of the world and like time stood still. But everytime I returned to the stables, time started again and the real world came back to me.

    My first suicide attempt (I tried to put it inside a spoiler since it's a little more graphical)
    In year 10 my parents argued even more than they used to, my mother would come back into the kitchen and cry about things in the past. Like her wedding and how it was never like she had wanted, I always came and sat by her till about 4am. Just trying to make her feel better about my herself and her life. And it was out of more selfish reasons than it first appreared, my own life was already hell and I couldn't stand the thought of one of my parents leaving me.
    So school was a nightmare and home was worse, my lonely feeling started going from empty to numb, eventually I couldn't stand it anymore. I just sat in the kitchen, with tears silently streaming from my eyes with the knife, just pushing it further in (sorry if it's too graphical). The strange thing was that it made me feel somewhat alive and almost releaved that there was a way out of everything. I hate when people say that it was self-harming, because although it might seem like that to them, for me I really wanted to take my life, they say suicide it the weak choice, but for me I started looking differently at things. My life wasn't a life worth living, it was a train jurney and at any point when that jurney became too hard, I felt like it was my right, maybe my only right in life, to get off the train at the next stop and just walk away. And I started questioning if suicide was truely the most selfish act of them all, or if forcing someone to live a life that they hate every monent off because you don't want to lose them was more selfish.

    I pulled the knife out and sat in the shower, just staring into the wall of patterns and thinking about how someone could have made them look so pretty. I closed my eyes feeling so tired of everything. A few hours later I woke up, my jeans were soaked, I felt so weak (physically) and so hopeless because it hadn't worked (and now and I feel stupid for sharing that). It felt like a trap, I couldn't even find a way out of my life. I cleaned myself up and wrapped a long bandage on my arm to hide it.

    The next day everyone asked what had happened to my arm, I told them had I had falling off my horse and pulled my wrist. But it wasn't the last time, this time it was in self harm I admit that. It was a way to feel something again. Soon it became a thing I could easily do 3-4 times a week.

    My Geography teacher noticed some cuts at one point and kept me after lesson I talk about it. I told him how I was feeling and he promised not to go to the head about it if I promised to talk to him when I had problems. What I didn't know was that another student was listening outside the window which is next to the outside toilets. When I got out it was a matter of hours before people started asking me about the selfharming and what made it worse was that someone had edited the story slightly and claimed I had gone to my Geography teacher and told him is was because people bullied me.

    When I started year 11 (my Geography teacher left after year 10), it was a challenge to get out of bed every morning, and go through the same ritual before going to school (even though people had forgotten about the rumours). I would sit in the shower for 10min trying to convince myself to come back out, I'd put my my uniform and look in the mirror wondering what happened to the happy little girl I once thought myself to be, find my breakfast and eat it before brushing my teeth and hoping I would just choke on the damn thing. 3 weeks into September I took a large overdose of strong painkillers. I spend the night throwing up and passing out, my whole body felt weak and cold and although there was nothing left in my stomach I still had to throw up. At one point I must have passed out, and I had the strangest dream.

    The strange dream and please do not laugh.
    I was in this lake, with all these little lights around me, I started slowly floating upwards untill I came to the surface, I was surrounded by trees that formed a near perfect circle as I looked up at the night sky. I kept floating upwards untill I was sucked into a star, where everything was an odd cold white, I started walking, without knowing where too. Just walking, and I felt to strange, new and alien at the same time. Then I almost started going over my life in my mind, the times I hurt people the times they hurt me, and all the times I felt happy with other people. Then I fell back out of the star, into the lake, my chest started to hurt and I woke up on the bathroom floor

    After telling my mother that the whole week I spent in my bed after being sick was my own fault I went to see a doctor. Who put me on medication, they didn't really make me feel better, they made me feel nothing, which was at least better than before. I found what felt like a friend at the time, but turns out I was the only person who was nice to her and that was the only reason she spend time with me untill she found new and better friends. I told her about my parents which weren't getting better and about how I felt, and all she did was look at me for a bit and then asked what I was ding the coming weekend. In the back of my mind I was thinking maybe she actually cared and thought we should have a movie night or something. But she repllied with "oh no reason, I was just wondering, my friend is coming over from English which I'm SOOO excited about, then we're going out, which will be amazing, oh did I tell you about this new dress I bought?". I know it was so stupid of me to automatially assume that she might want to spend some time together, but I was so upset because it felt like she didn't even listen to me and she even went on to talk about how unfair and horrible it was that her parents wouldn't give her more than 20euros to go out with her friend for. Not only was I not invited, but her parents not letting her waste money on alcohol was more important (I know I sound so selfish, but it really hurt to hear).

    After this, she didn't speak to me much, infact she decided to tell the whole class that I was mentally ill and shouldn't be allowed around people in school. She was very unpopular, but while sharing all of my problems that I had trusted her with, people paid attention to her.

    At the end of year 11 I found a boyfriend who went to university in England, we stayed together for 2 years and he really helped me to feel better a lot of the time. Through sixth form I got very stressed though and developed insomnia. After year 13, I was recovering from insomnia, high blood pressure and still trying to handle my depression as well as the break with my boyfriend.

    I finally found something to keep me going, my animal charity work, which I do seem to take a lot of abuse for from people around here since to them animals shouldn't be helped before humans. But fostering homeless dogs and working at the local clinic has really helped me to get better. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever trust people again after so many let downs, and maybe that's why I chose to throw my love on animals, they never betray me, they never laugh at me and they never leave me. They are always there when I wake up and always there in the foot of my bed when I fall asleep, and the feeling of having changed the life of another living being so something good and being rewarded with trust and loyalty gets me out of bed every morning. Even though I still feel a void inside myself.

    That is my story, even if it's not as bad as some of the others on here, I still thought I'd share.

    After reading these personal experiences I actually hate myself for feeling the way I have because the way I feel is not bad compared to others.

    Thank you all for sharing :hugs:

    Had a thought - I see a lot of posts made by people who don't know how to bring up feeling depressed with their doctor, so some general advice about that might be useful. I'll try and post something about it later.

    (Original post by superwolf)
    Had a thought - I see a lot of posts made by people who don't know how to bring up feeling depressed with their doctor, so some general advice about that might be useful. I'll try and post something about it later.
    What happens when you tell your doctor you are feeling depressed? I honestly think I am depressed but what will being diagnosed actually change? I do not want to take any medication or therapy so is going to a doctor really worth it? Sorry for all the questions...

    (Original post by Anonymous)
    What happens when you tell your doctor you are feeling depressed? I honestly think I am depressed but what will being diagnosed actually change? I do not want to take any medication or therapy so is going to a doctor really worth it? Sorry for all the questions...
    Well if you feel your state of mind is really affecting your day to day life then I think you might want to reconsider not accepting any treatment for it. With therapy you do need to work hard at it, and drugs have side-effects, but personally I'd rather deal with these problems than stay depressed.

    But if you really don't want any treatment, then the main advantage I see to being diagnosed is that if you're working and may possibly need time off then you'll need a doctor's note, if you're on benefits then likewise, and if you're studying then you might want either time off or extensions on deadlines.

    I went for years without treating my depression, when it was (self-diagnosed) mild to moderate. And looking back, although I was more or less coping, now that I've seen how bad my depression got from leaving it untreated (definitely moved into the 'major' category), I sincerely regret not making a proper effort to treat my depression while it was still less of a problem.

    Don't worry about asking questions - I'm probably getting drunk tonight (), but I'll be glad to answer anything tomorrow.

    Thought I'd post my experiences with some medications and my overall experience so far.

    I'm being investigated for MS/Stroke and so my main problem is tiredness.

    Started on
    Citalopram - Made me feel very suicidal,felt worse rather than feeling better so I changed.
    Lustral (sertraline) - I was told to take this at night but it kept me awake and so the following day I was very very tired.
    Mirtazapine - I use the sedating effect to my advantage (or did to begin with). First time I took it, I HAD to go to bed after 20 minutes. It doesn't have the same effect anymore though. I have put on a lot of weight on it as mentioned before because its an appetite stimulant (now weighing 20ish stone) and so I've asked to come off it. I was told this would be a slow process (2 weeks on 30mg one night then 15 mg next night, 2 weeks 15 mg, 2 weeks 15mg one night then 0mg next night, 2 weeks with nothing then onto Prozac). However, I should be starting the 15/0 2 weeks today but I have uni resits so I don't think this is the best time to come off tablets. On the 30/15mg weeks, I felt drugged after I'd taken 30 mg and then after 15mg I wasn't getting enough sleep. I've just finished the 15mg every day for 2 weeks, I've been really tired and had to have afternoon naps so I spoke to my Dr today who's suggested I go back to 30mg until I've done my resits.

    I am a 20 year old student. I've been undergoing health investigations since January 2010. I've been investigated for diabetes, hypoglycaemia, epilepsy and others. I was sent for a CT scan and an urgent MRI was requested. They came to the conclusion it was MS but wanted me to have a lumbar puncture (waiting list of 26 weeks). In the meantime, I saw a haematologist who said my symptoms sounded like depression so I went to see my GP. I was put on citalopram in December 2010. Since then, my treatment was moved from South Wales to London. I saw a different neurologist and had a lp in London. (I got a letter for the original lp the other day - its in August almost a year after it was requested and I've already had one in London now).

    I've never been given an official diagnosis - my GP in Wales put me on mirtazapine to help me sleep which my GP in London disagreed with (she said it was for severe depression which I don't have, although she never mentioned taking me off it - not until my neurologist suggested I change to Prozac).

    I've tried counselling but I don't feel as though it helped me so I stopped going. I just felt like I was talking but wasn't being offered any help. I'm going to try CBT soon.

    I personally don't feel as though I've got better, I've just got better at hiding how I'm coping from people because I can't stand being asked 'How are you' over and over. It's affected my life massively but at the moment I have to learn to live with it. I do get some dark moments where I'm just walking and I don't know where I'm going. I also buy pain killers and set up a plan in my head then I feel guilty and come back to my boyfriend in tears. When I get into a state like that, I hear voices telling me to go and get pain killers, I don't feel as though its me controlling myself although I've never told anyone that.

    Hi guys,

    I'm a third year journalism student from Lincoln.

    Since I was in college around 5 years ago, I have suffered from depression. Over the years I have visited a number of different counselling services provided by different people, but nothing seemed to help.

    In my first year of university, while in the middle of one of biggest 'episodes', I attempted suicide, and even since it has been nagging at the back of my mind.

    One thing I noticed was the lack of support structure in place for people like me. Now, for a final project as part of my TV module, I am making a 10 minute investigative film into the system in place for students around the country.

    For this though, I need a case study to strengthen the story.

    I'm looking for somebody with a similar experience as myself to appear in my film and tell their story. Full anonymity can be provided if need be.

    I realise how hard this could be to talk about, but if anybody is willing to help me out, I will really appreciate it.

    Please get in touch, as I think this is a massively important subject.



    Never noticed this thread before, but I feel like I need to talk about my experience.

    I was 14 when I was diagnosed with severe depression. I had no self-esteem, hated everything about myself and honestly wanted to curl up and die. I was morbid. I just wanted death because every second was so difficult. Every minute was too painful. I don't know why. On the outside, I seemingly had it all -- I was intelligent and had 'a lot going' for me. But no one really knew. No one knew that my dad had been verbally abusing me -- both drunk and sober -- since 10. I was bullied every day at school for being fat (I honestly was -- 13 stone at that age) and had few friends (they were all 2 years older, in sixth form). Life wasn't good. I was referred to CAMHS for weekly therapy sessions, but they didn't help at all.

    Things got worse at 15. I became anorexic. The depression furthered. It came to a point where my school would call my mum because I kept missing the same days off school each week. We didn't want to tell the school because they'd messed up so many times before when I had reported the bullying, only making it worse. They threatened and eventually we had to tell them. What did they do? One day, the bullying got too much. I ran to the toilets at lunchtime and locked myself in. My head of year sent me home, not because he cared but because 'if you kill yourself on school grounds your parents could sue us'. Lovely. He told the bullies I had depression. They only did it more. My attendance went down so as a special allowance, they let me come into school, go to my class for 5 mins to get the work and sit in reception all day and do it.

    The anorexia worsened. The depression worsened. Although I recovered from anorexia just after turning 17, I still have depression to this day. Sometimes I win the battle. But depression still has the upper hand in this war.

    I feel like I've lost myself in it. I have my good days, and they're amazing...but I mostly have bad days. My depression is crippling. It's like a physical disability, sometimes. I feel so depressed that I won't even go outside of my room all day. I won't go downstairs to get fresh air. I'll barely go to the kitchen unless I need something from the fridge. I just stay in my four walls. I have to cancel appointments and stuff because of it. I cry for no reason. There's an overwhelming sadness that I just can't figure out because theoretically, these past couple of years have been the best I've ever had and I'm currently 90% living the life I want to live (bar doing a degree as I hate studying). I just curl up and cry, sometimes for hours.

    I was put on antidepressants when I was 16. I'm still on them and it's coming up to 19 for me now. I don't see myself getting off them in a hurry. Every day brings a new struggle. I don't go to counselling or anything. After doing counselling for about 4 years, I realised that no one is really going to understand me. Right now, I just cope. I just cope by myself. Sometimes I let off some steam with my mum. I try to lead as much of a normal life as possible, but it gets in the way so much. I have to apply for mitigation all the time. I find it hard being alone sometimes, but sometimes I hate the whole world.

    The only positive thusfar is that I don't feel suicidal often. Something extremely bad has to happen for me to feel like that, and I haven't in over a year now. I'm kind of proud of that, although it's not a big achievement by any means. My bad days are still awful but I don't lose the will to live any more. I think that's partially down to my boyfriend who, despite knowing how nuts I am (severe depression, BDD, ex-anorexic, anxiety disorder), loves me to bits and is actually really considerate about my many mental illnesses. He never makes me feel like there's something wrong with me although we know there is. If he does bring it up, he's always positive about it like 'I love how strong you are, you've been through so much and you're still fighting'.

    But most of all, it's my mum. She also has depression, which makes me think it's somewhat hereditary. She has my back 100%, although we disagree a lot now I've become my own person and more independent since moving out. Honestly, I would not be here today if it wasn't for her. No matter what, I could never hurt myself fatally because she doesn't deserve to have to go through that pain.

    Baby steps, each day. I just take one day at a time. x

    Many young people their behaviour is questioned as a problem remember there is not enough time with parents they found their diversion. The rebellion of some young some into the Depression of the sink .

    Anyone with depression should watch this video - it will change your life for the better and maybe even cure your depression


    You are so lucky!

    When I was 15/16 I was abused by my then-stepfather. After it stopped I suppressed the memories for a year, but also got depression during that time. I wanted to kill myself on several occassions but found being around my beautiful dog was very calming. I contacted the samaritans a few times and the phrase that stuck with me was:
    Do you really want your life to end, or do you just want things to change?

    I didn't want to leave my twin brother mainly and my dog so I stuck it out although it was very hard. Something my then-stepfather said triggered the memories and I wrote one down in my diary. When I went away, my mother found it and then kicked him out. It was hard to see him go because he wasn't like the 'typical' abuser - he wasn't sadistic or violent - and he was the only dad I had known.

    After I reported it, I started seeing a counsellor which really helped my depression. He was so caring and understanding it really did help.

    5 years later I don't suffer that much from depression, only the occasional week or so or if I'm really stressed. The thing that I'd say to people wiith depression is that it does get better. I found knowledge of the deppression helped and talking to others on the internet too.
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