How I Live Everyday with Anxiety/ Depression & the Consequences

I was diagnosed seven years ago with stress induced anxiety and depression. And everyday since has been a journey. I couldn't say for sure what the reason is behind my condition but I have some ideas. I do know for a fact that before I sought treatment, it was some of the roughest days. They are still rough and having to deal with them and the consequences of my inabilities at this point in time can be consuming and overwhelming even on a good day.

Back when I first decided something was wrong, I had called a local mental health help line. I explained to them how I was feeling and what some of my symptoms were and they told me it sounded as though I was depressed and could use some anti-depressants perhaps. They suggested I see my physician for my condition. I did just that and sure enough, he agreed that I was suffering from what sounded to him like stress induced anxiety and depression. At that point in time I had a hard time believing I was depressed. I was still getting up everyday and going on with life. What I knew of depression was not the way I was feeling or acting. I just thought I was really angry and tired of being kicked in the teeth by this world every time I turned around. I was sick of struggle and strife and hardship. And I had fought, and fought and fought some more and I never felt like I was getting anywhere. The best way I can sum up how I was feeling is: pissed at the world and sick of it!!!

Along with a prescription for Prozac, my doctor suggested I get in touch with the mental health center and also try some counseling. So, I did. Reluctantly but I did. I went to the first appointment and I never went back. It was hard for me to tell all my worries and troubles and deep dark secrets to anyone. I grew up in a tight-lipped family and people just didn't need to speak of problems outside the home. I am not making fun of the counselor I had that day in any way, shape or form. She had a disability and she did the best she could for me but in the state of mind I was in and having what I thought was maybe a breakthrough because I had decided to go try this counseling in the first place, in the end, all she did was make me very angry and I walked away with the impression that I couldn't even do therapy right. She had a very obvious vision disability and she was encouraging me to talk and I was, I was getting things off my chest but she kept interrupting me to mess with her visual aids while she typed what I was saying. And she kept changing my train of thought and I had prepared what I wanted to get off my chest and how I wanted to get it off there. I had a chronology of my life that I thought after she heard and I had gotten to where I was at that point in time; she would be better able to help me knowing exactly where I was coming from. But, obviously, that isn't the way it worked out.

After I had given the Prozac time to be in my system and start making me feel better, it was very clear to me that it wasn't working. I went back to the doctor and because I am a smoker, he decided to try me on Wellbutrin because of the smoking cessation it had. Once again I forged on with hopes of feeling better soon. Again, I did the waiting game, letting the medication get in my system and allowing it the time it needed to work to benefit me in the long run. And where did I stand mentally at that point? Can we say "vicious bitch"? Nothing was getting any better. Life was still the same bullshit it had always been and I was beginning to think it would always be that way. I'd about give out hope of anything working for me.

What probably saved me from a real breakdown was the fact that my body had just about turned against me. I begin feeling like shit, sick all the time. I had bronchitis, pharyngitis, upper respiratory infection, and the flu ALL at the same time. Sick for six weeks straight. I had lost all kinds of weight and having always been overweight for my entire life that was a sign to me that something was wrong as well. The final straw came when I began having severe pain in my rib, shoulder blade area and was nauseous for most of my waking hours. I began to vomit just plain bile. I headed back to the doctor once again. I was then put on Effexor for the anxiety/depression, and was told that there was a polyp at the opening of my gallbladder that was causing me the pain and nausea. But that during the nuclear testing of my gallbladder, it did not present any problems or warrant removal as the fluids seemed to still be able to flow despite the polyp.

I began a regimen of Effexor, watched my diet due to the gallbladder, got my dear sister to handle some things that were creating problems for me with our mother, and I soon did begin to feel better. I even commented to my doctor that since I was feeling better emotionally/mentally, that physically my pain and nausea was fading as well. She explained to me that my medication not only affected my brain but my entire body as well. Basically, by calming my mind it had calmed down the symptoms of the physical problems as well. Well by now I am confident that I may be on the right track once again to feeling better all the way around. And for a few years, I did okay. I was no longer the "vicious bitch" and I could focus on some things a lot easier again. I learned to just take a moment for myself without feeling selfish about it. I felt my strength returning and my will to keep on fighting still kicked in when it needed to. I began to feel a sense of pride again in my abilities and what I could really do and survive.

A bit of history I have to share here so the reader will know where this is headed. My dad died of lung cancer about a month before my 7^th birthday. So, basically I grew up in a single parent household. My mother was the world to me and I made it clear to everyone how important she was. We had a typical mother/daughter relationship. We loved each other, we fought with each other, we cried with each other. But despite that, I loved my mom more than anything. I would have given her the world if I could have. She deserved it. At any rate, over the years mom's health began to decline. And early February 2002 mom fell and broke her hip and a year of hell ensued for her and our family. She should have been gone so many times during that year with the various afflictions she had encountered but she held out. She fought and she fought and she lived every time. We begged God not to take our mother. We thanked God for not taking our mother.

About two weeks before Thanksgiving in 2002 mom's worst battle was presented. She had gotten an infection in her foot from a wound and poor circulation and she had her left leg amputated below the knee to stand any chance of survival. We once again about lost her after that surgery but she wasn't ready. Everyone suggested we let her go, her insurance ran out and I brought her home. They said I couldn't do it, but I did it. I took care of her every need. She was in bad shape. And just before the beginning of December she made the choice to stop going for dialysis. My sister and I made sure she knew what that meant. And she told us she knew. And about 8 days later, three days before her 70^th birthday, my mom died. We buried her the day after her birthday.

Devastation. To date the biggest battle I had ever had to fight and the one I poured every ounce of myself and my passion for my mother into. And I lost. My mom was gone despite everything under the sun I could and did for her. At that point in time, if it had not been for my husband and my kids, I wouldn't have cared if I lived or died either. There were days I thought they should just dig me a hole and put me out there right beside her. Tears are pouring from my eyes right now as I recall this time in life. It still hurts. I miss her terribly. I have nightmares and dreams about her and it's sad to know I am too late in realizing fully what she meant to me. And I have regrets about all the things I could have or should have said and done. If I could have her back just one day, what I wouldn't do for her.

Like I said, because of my family, I have carried on but every year has been a decline for me since. I am now at the point where I am about to lose everything I have ever worked or fought for and I just don't care. I feel like a failure to my family and friends. I don't know who I am anymore or who I would even want to be. I run from responsibility, I try to use humor to deal with most things as otherwise; I just wouldn't have anything to say most days. I can't deal with people at all and am having a hard time finding a job so I can pay my bills that are mounting every day and not lose my home, the only home my children have ever known. The anxiety and depression due to the anxiety and depression are about to overtake me. I consider myself a Christian and I believe 100 % in God and His Blessings. But it seems like I can't even talk to Him these days. I don't even feel like I am worthy in His eyes for any more help. Despite what has gone wrong and evidence to show that I couldn't have done anything about it, inevitably, I can convince myself that it's all my fault. Anything, everything, it's my fault. And I think I am only where I am today because of poor choices, wrong choices on my behalf. Despite it all, it's all my fault.

I'm waiting now on a call from the mental health facility once again to take another shot at counseling. Problem there is I have no insurance, don't qualify for any aid, and don't have the money to make the house payment, let alone spend some money on myself right now. They are going to look into waivers and discounts through their organization for me to see if they can help me at all. I hope to hear they can, but I won't hold my breath. Another problem I have is the feeling of being so insignificant. Even at home, with my husband and kids, I am so insignificant, I could leave tomorrow and it would take very little to move on in my absence. Some days I feel they may benefit if I were to leave.

To sum this up, I struggle every day and because of my mental incapacities, my familial and home life is suffering in a terrible way right now and I no longer know what to do about it. Therefore, I will undoubtedly start to see more negative consequences as a result. And to date, that is how I live everyday with anxiety/depression and the consequences. I get up everyday posed for a fight and by the end of the night; I am defeated and sent to bed with my tail between my legs. Ah, isn't life grand?