Experiencing a significant relapse of depression can feel like being thrown into a den of wolves, viciously attacked, and then spat back out into the world. I emerge battered and bruised on the inside, yet the outside remains invisible to everyone around me.
Having battled depression since childhood, I recognize the warning signs, but the struggle never seems to get any easier. I noticed the red flags creeping in: isolating myself, neglecting self-care, and the overwhelming gloom that whispered, “Why bother?” Despite my awareness, I was on a downward spiral, gripping the side of my emotional train with all my might.
This time, however, things felt different. My negative thoughts intensified and became more alarming, even frightening for my loved ones. I could vividly imagine how to escape this world, concocting multiple plans that terrified me. As a wife and mother to two young daughters, aged two and seven, I felt an immense guilt. I loved my family dearly, yet twisted thoughts convinced me they’d be better off without me.
In a moment of desperation, I hastily packed a duffel bag decorated with playful dog illustrations and made my way to the emergency room. There, I raised my hands in surrender, admitting my suicidal thoughts. What followed was a harrowing night spent in a holding cell, a stark contrast to the supportive environment I desperately needed. After that, I endured nine grueling nights in a psychiatric facility fraught with chaos, where I had to advocate for my own care amidst fights and discrimination.
I endured physical side effects from medications, including nausea that had me begging for relief. Changes made to my medication regimen resulted in dangerous interactions that left me feeling even more lost. My journal, my most cherished possession, was taken from me due to its spiral binding, deepening my sense of loss. I participated in various activities like coloring and playing Scrabble, carefully avoiding competition to maintain peace, until finally, I was discharged.
Walking out of the hospital, I was overcome with emotion—relief washed over me as I yearned to return to my children, my dog, and my cozy home. However, the shadow of depression and anxiety followed me like uninvited guests.
I resumed therapy with a new therapist and sought out a psychiatrist after years of feeling unheard. I explored every coping mechanism I could think of—distraction, meditation, and even creative expression through art. I attended a support group and started a small business from my home. Yet, the dark thoughts persisted.
After a month of grappling with my emotions, I faced a downward turn. The suicidal ideation returned, and I found myself self-harming again. Realizing I couldn’t trust myself, I asked my husband to hide all medications to eliminate temptation. It became clear that I needed additional help, so I sought a higher level of care to ensure my safety.
This time, I opted for a hospital I felt more comfortable with—a trauma unit specifically for women. Driving four and a half hours with my father-in-law to reach this safe haven was a challenge, especially being just days before Thanksgiving, but I knew it was necessary. Sometimes, you just have to endure turkey sandwiches in a psych ward to mend your spirit for the sake of your family.
Once again, I spent nine days in treatment. I recognized the psychiatrist from my previous stay and felt a sense of familiarity. The environment was calmer, though I still felt misunderstood at times, as if my cries for help were seen as attention-seeking. I longed for connection, surrounding myself with fellow patients who became my “situational sisters.”
Leaving the hospital this time, I didn’t feel cured but rather relieved and apprehensive about returning home. I stepped back into my life, embracing my daughters’ hugs and diving straight back into therapy. I understand now that healing is a journey, not a destination. I’m a work in progress, and that’s perfectly okay.
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Summary
The journey through a major depression relapse is fraught with challenges, guilt, and the constant battle against negative thoughts. Despite feeling lost and overwhelmed, seeking help, including hospitalization, therapy, and support from loved ones, can pave the way for recovery. Healing is an ongoing process, and it’s essential to be kind to oneself throughout this journey.
Keyphrase: Major depression relapse survival
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