I’m breaking up my ‘depression journey’ into several posts. It’s such a long one that if I were to write it in one go, it would likely put YOU into a ketamine coma.
I was first diagnosed with depression when I was 17 and headed to University. The anxiety diagnosis came much later. During the ensuing 32 years I was in and out of therapy and had gone through every antidepressant on the market. If a new one hit the shelves, we gave it a go. While some of them seemed to help a little, bringing a small amount of light into the darkness, none of them allowed me to see the sun.
During my undergraduate years, I had a wonderful counsellor who kept me going from week to week. My parents were pretty much in the dark until a suicide attempt and admission to a hospital gave my therapist no choice but to bring them into the loop. Even then, they never called, visited, or reached out. I still don’t know why.
We didn’t talk about mental health in our family. I think that was typical of European immigrants who worked hard but said little. I don’t judge them. I know they did their best. That being said, it would have been good to know that grandma committed suicide and mom suffered from depression when we were young. You know, so when your doctor asks if there’s any known medical issues in your family you can do more than shrug.
The unfortunate part of University Health Care, at least where I’m from, is that it is abundantly available and free as long as you’re a student. Once you graduate, you’re on your own folks. The sudden disconnect from the therapist I trusted, along with the new expense of my medication left me bereft of hope and cost me a long term relationship.
I was treading water. Barely. I took too many pills too many times in attempts to sleep everything away. I cut, for the brief period it allowed physical pain to beat back the mental anguish. My lifeline was my completely unexpected but longed for acceptance into Veterinary School. Surely now that I’d met my lifelong goal it would be smooth sailing. (Pardon the plethora of water related analogies). Boy was I wrong.
One Veterinarian’s Life 