I want to tell my story, which may seem serious to some people but I’m aware that others have gone through much more difficult times. Throughout my life I’ve been living with a close family member who has had very serious depression. It was my Dad – my hero.

Ever since I was little, I can remember him going in and out of hospital and getting medication pumped in and out of him. We visited several specialists, and we knew that depression is an illness. People who haven’t dealt with it might say it is something that one chooses. They might think it is a choice to mope around in bed all day, to feel like pouring your heart out all of the time, and even to feel like you are a burden on your family. But I don’t think anyone would choose to do this. Depression is not a choice.

Depression is something that shouldn’t be ignored, something that the person cannot help, just like any other serious illness. Depression can even lead to feeling as though there is no other way out. Why isn’t depression being dealt with?

Okay… so you’re thinking, what does she know, right? Well, after going through all of the treatment options, my Dad seemed to be okay for a while. I was having fun with him and when these precious moments of him feeling high instead of low happened, I enjoyed them.

We took a short holiday to Cork during the summer holidays, and two weeks into my second year at school (a stressful enough time to say the least), my Dad took his own life.

After several attempts before that and several close-to-losing-him experiences, I couldn’t believe it was happening. I thought that he would arrive home any second and say: “I’ve made a mistake, help me!” But this time it just wasn’t meant to be.

I woke up to my mam screaming to my older brothers that dad had left a note and he was gone. I couldn’t believe it. The police and my brothers searched for him the remainder of the morning. He was found and it wasn’t a happy “I’ve made a mistake, help me” moment.

The attempt had turned into something, which made me lose the most important man in my life. It is important to remember that a person who wants to take their own life is not just doing it for attention or anything of the sort. They need to be helped, however there is not enough professional support or treatment for people with depression. It angers me to think that I’ve lost my dad, and that he could have thought he was a burden.

When dealing with the grief of suicide, you will feel guilty but you need to remember that the person loved you; no matter how much you think it’s your fault. I’ve questioned many times whether I had ever done anything that resulted in the suicide. But with the help of my family members, who are all older than me, I’ve learned that no matter how many times I question, I wont get an answer, no matter how hard it is to accept.

How many times have I sat in class and wanted to run out of the classroom and cry? If your friends don’t seem to understand, you need to explain the illness to them. I’m lucky enough to have my best friend, who knew my dad and all about the illness, but at times it can be hard. All you need to know is that, in my opinion, one of the hardest forms of grief is suicide bereavement. It leaves a lot of unanswered questions. I urge anyone who is feeling low to surround yourself with positive things and people.

It’s hard for me to share what happened to me, but I’m doing my Leaving Cert now. Of course it still knocks at the back of my mind but my experience has taught me that life is very precious and you must make the most of it. Hopefully my story will inspire someone to get help, to deal with losing someone to suicide, or just to share your story!

 

At times in life things can get difficult and you might feel out of control. When you feel ripped up inside it can feel easier to be ripped up on the outside instead of dealing with all the crap going on inside. I know that things are not easy in life when you are growing up (I’ve gone through most of it myself and I’m still only 21 so I’ve a bit more to go yet). I’m going to tell you about my story and why I chose self-harm as a way out. I was about 16, had a lot of pressure at home to do well in school, I was in boarding school (so they didn’t know a lot of what was going on) and I wasn’t doing so well.

Then my grandmother had a stroke and we all thought she was going to die. There were two guys I really liked and they liked me but they were best friends and it got really difficult and bitchy as we all hung out in the same group of friends.

Bottling up my feelings

Now I know this may not sound like much, but I had no one to talk to as all my friends told me their problems and never thought to ask about mine. I just kept bottling my feelings up until the smallest thing would have me nearly in tears. I felt so confused inside. The only way I can describe it is that I felt like my insides were in shreds and I just didn’t want to deal with it. I kept ignoring it until one day (I can’t even tell you what caused it) I ended up hurting myself.

Talking to someone really helped

It felt better to have the confusing pain of the inside brought to the simple basicness of physical pain. It just made things easier to deal with when the pain was no longer on the inside. It was now something I could see and understand. It was only when someone noticed the scars on my arms that things changed. I began to talk about why I was doing this. I didn’t feel comfy talking to a friend so I rang the Samaritans a few times, and then after a while, the problems began to seem a bit smaller.

Talking really helped me stop hurting myself. It was only after all that happened that I realised how self-destructive I had become. If I had talked to someone I could have saved myself a lot of tough memories. So, I urge anyone who reads this and is going through what I went through or is thinking about it to talk to someone, if not a friend someone like the Samaritans: they won’t judge, they will just listen.

Set backs are a natural part of life. Nothing ever really goes smoothly does it? So obviously when you're recovering from depression you cannot expect an easy journey.

No matter how well things are going, no matter how much progress you have made, there is always a chance that today will be a 'bad day'. And when that happens it can be tempting to overreact. If you’ve worked really hard on your recovery and you’re doing all the right things it’s so frustrating when these 'bad days' hit.

Am I just back to square one? Am I really making any progress? Sometimes it seems like it’s inevitable that the depression will come back. I’m having a few of these bad days at the moment and all of those thoughts go through my head. But I’ve learned with experience that I just have to accept that I’m having a bad day. Sounds simple doesn’t it? But you’d be amazed how long I can lie to myself and pretend that I’m fine.

Once I accept what I’m feeling, I can actually do something about it. I write a lot on my bad days. Writing helps me express what I’m feeling. While it’s swirling around in my mind it can all seem very confusing. Writing puts some order on things and makes it all easier to comprehend. I’ve found there is great relief to be found in writing down that thing that has been at the back of your mind, that thing that you have been trying to convince yourself isn’t really a problem.

Relaxation is important for everyone. Everybody should take 10 minutes everyday just for themselves. I find it especially helpful when I’m feeling down. I scan my body to see how I’m really feeling. Tension here, pain there, I just notice it all and listen to what my body is saying to me.

As someone who has had reason to deal with a lot of physical pain for many years I learned to ignore pain for a long time. But it is important we pay attention to what our bodies tell us. That pain or tension could be telling you something far more than you think.

On bad days all of my worries and fears attack me harder. I’m 25, no girlfriend, no job, no qualifications worth talking about. Even if I do go back to college next year I’ll be at least 30 before I’m back out in the work place. These things bother me. They could put me in a very bad downward spiral on bad days. That’s why I have to make a deliberate effort to avoid thinking about my problems on days when I am depressed.

I also make sure to avoid making long-term decisions when I’m depressed. This can be inconvenient at times and extremely frustrating at other times! I’m always trying to prove that I’m no different to anyone else; that I can do what everyone else without depression can do.

But when I am depressed I have to be mature enough to realise my limitations and realise that I cannot be making big choices that I will regret once the depression passes. We are in control of our thoughts and sometimes we need to ask ourselves the question “Is thinking about these problems today helping me?” If the answer is no then we need to stop it.

I’m now at the point in my recovery that depression isn’t something I have to think about daily. I can go weeks without being depressed. Personally I don’t think that I will ever be 100% free of depression, and that’s OK with me, because I know that I can and will progress to the point that I can control how it affects me and my life. And when the bad days come I have to just allow the depression to pass; however long that it takes.

The first time I had a panic attack it completely freaked me out. I was at home and without any obvious reason, I suddenly felt as if I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, I started gasping for breath and I felt dizzy and scared about what was happening. After a minute or two, my breathing slowly returned to normal and apart from feeling a bit upset, shaky and shocked, I was back to myself.

Before that, I had never heard of panic attacks or their symptoms. I was 17, studying for the Leaving Cert and looking back, I was fairly stressed out. My father was sick, there was no shortage of family arguments and going home from school every evening felt claustrophobic.

I told my mother about what had happened and she took me to the doctor. I don’t know if I did a bad job of explaining it or what, but the doctor didn’t have any explanation or advice. For the rest of that year, I experienced panic attacks regularly, and although after the first one, I kinda knew that they would stop after a few minutes, they still freaked me out.

I didn’t tell anyone else about what was happening, I was embarrassed about it and always worried that someone would see me having a panic attack. After a few months, I read about panic attacks online and realised that these were what I was experiencing. I also started to recognise when a panic attack was beginning and sometimes I could calm myself down and prevent the panic from taking control. I noticed that the panic attacks arrived when I was very worried about something- be it school or home stuff, and I tried to stop myself from stressing out as much as I had been. However, all that took time and even after I finished the Leaving Cert exams, I still had panic attacks.

It really hit my confidence, especially if I had to talk in front of a lot of people or to people I didn’t know. Finally, the panic attacks stopped – partly, because I was in better form and happier, but also because I felt they were just my body’s physical reaction to the stress. By knowing what caused the panic, I felt less scared by the experience and that in turn, helped stop the attacks.

For a couple of years I avoided any situation which might trigger a panic attack, however, with time, I became braver and made an effort to confront situations that would have caused panic before. And during those few years, I managed NOT to have panic attacks when I was nervous, or worried or stressed.

Looking back now, my big regret is that apart from the first doctor’s visit, I never told anyone what I was going through. I let embarrassment stop me from getting advice. For anyone who is experiencing panic attacks, I would say, don’t try to get through them alone. They’re not the end of the world and lots of people get them. So just bite the bullet and talk to a doctor or someone else that can help (and go to another doctor if the first one is useless, like mine was!).

Overcoming panic attacks – youth tips

From a very young age, I suffered with anxiety issues. I was always afraid to answer out in class, always trying to hide and blend in so that nobody would notice me. In fact, my school report from second class states this! I had my first full-scale panic attack while I was in primary school. I felt like I was suffocating and was beset with an overwhelming feeling of terror. Thankfully it didn't last long, but the thought of it happening again scared the life out of me.

Nobody ever explained panic attacks to me, so at the age of 12 I honestly thought that I was dying or going crazy. If you're thinking like this, let me tell you that having a panic attack doesn't mean that you're crazy and it most definitely won't kill you, though it can be very scary. My anxiety was so bad that if I had homework to be corrected aloud in class, I'd rather say that I hadn't done it and take the punishment instead. I couldn't help but think: What if I get it wrong?, What if they think I'm stupid?

Living life in constant fear of being judged badly by everyone else started to take its toll on me.Some time between the ages of nine and 14, depression crept it. By the age of 12, I had experienced a lot of loss, had moved home and started two new schools. There were days when I'd cry for hours, feeling hopeless and lost, with no idea why. The first time I told someone about how I felt, they dismissed it as "teenage mood swings". I was heartbroken. It had taken me so long to build up the courage to confide in someone and I was dismissed straight away. 

If this happens to you, please don't give up, talk to someone else and keep talking until they listen. Somebody will help you. Shortly after that incident, my mam insisted on me going to our GP for advice on the panic attacks, which were still ongoing. It was here, at the age of 14, that I first heard the word depression, along with my name. The best way I can describe my experience with depression is that it is like a little devil sitting on my shoulder whispering bad thoughts in my ear, day in, day out. To cut a long story short: I was in a very dark place; it was the lowest point of my life.

I felt like a burden and thought that those I loved would be better off without me. I won't go into any more detail, but I'll tell you that I did try to kill myself. My school principal found out and informed my parents. I was told I'd be leaving school and not returning for a few weeks. That day was so hard for me. It felt like the bottom had just dropped out of my world. I didn't realise it at the time, but this was the beginning of my recovery.

So began my time in therapy. I think people have a lot of misconceptions when it comes to depression and treatment. The thing that I hear most often is that depression is just attention seeking. Let me set the record straight – depression is real. It isn't made up, it's not attention seeking and there is help available to treat it. In my experience, counselling can be very daunting, but it is worth it once you get used to the idea.

Counselling places do tend to be 'fake-cheerful', there are usually other patients/clients waiting too and depending where you go, you may be asked to fill out some questionnaires. Be honest with whoever you are talking to, they are there to listen and help. If you do have to fill out any forms, don't try to find the 'right' answers because there aren't any; the purpose of them is to find out what's going on in your life and what will benefit you most in terms of treatment. You might be offered medication, depending on your circumstances. If you are over the age of 18, the decision of whether to accept it is your own. If you are under 18, the decision isn't entirely in your own hands, but do voice your opinion – it will count.

For me, the hardest part of therapy was realising that talking about my problems and getting help didn't make me weak. If anything, it made me stronger. However, I so want to point out that therapy won't make you 'better' or 'fix' you. It will provide you with the tools you need to manage your day-to-day life. You will still have to put in the effort. In the beginning, it can feel impossible, always having to correct your thinking, but eventually it becomes second nature and you won't even notice it. I have been medication free for almost a year.

Up until now, there have been a lot of false starts where I have finished therapy and stopped taking medication only to find myself back there again, but it was important for me to stay hopeful. At times it's still hard, but I've learned so much from my experiences, including the bad ones. Whatever situation you find yourself in, don't give up, talk until someone listens and remember that there will be a stage where life is actually pretty good.

On 22nd January 2017, the Irish Family Planning Association (IFPA) and CervicalCheck, The National Cervical Screening Programme, launched the Pearl of Wisdom campaign to emphasize the importance of free regular cervical screening.

European Cervical Cancer Prevention Week takes place from 22nd-28th January. During this week, the IFPA and CervicalCheck urge women aged 25-60 to check when their next smear is due, or to book their first test with a doctor or nurse registered with CervicalCheck.

30,000 women die from cervical cancer across Europe every year, which is highly correlated to the lack of accessibility to high quality cervical screening programmes according to Dr. Philip Davies, Director General of the European Cervical Cancer Association. “Ireland’s CervicalCheck screening programme is one of the best in the world,” Dr Davies said. “It’s a hugely successful public health measure.”

Speaking at the Pearl of Wisdom campaign launch, Dr. Gráinne Flannelly, Clinical Director of CervicalCheck said, “Each year in Ireland, around 300 women are diagnosed with invasive cervical cancer and over 90 women die from the disease. Since the programme started, over 50,000 women have been treated for precancerous changes, reducing their risk of cervical cancer by 90%."

“Cervical cancer takes a long time to develop and often has no symptoms. Through screening, we can pick up abnormalities at the pre-cancer stage, when it is easily treatable. Having your smear test is a quick, free and painless way to prevent the development of cervical cancer," Dr Catriona Henchion said.

"This test is so important. Tell your mother, your sister, your daughter, your colleague, your friend. It only takes five minutes, and it really could save your life," Maura Derrane, the Pearl of Wisdom campaign ambassador said.

Check when your next free smear test is due, or register for your first, here or by calling CervicalCheck Freephone 1800 45 45 55.

The Pearl of Wisdom pin is the symbol of cervical cancer prevention. During the week of the campaign, 22,000 Pearls will be distributed through health promotion networks nationwide. Pearls are also available by calling Freephone 1800 45 45 55. Women are invited to support the Pearl of Wisdom campaign by posting a selfie with their Pearl on social media, using the hashtag #ShareTheWisdom.

When you are in your early twenties, when you are in your prime, the last thing you want to hear is that you have a mental health condition known as bipolar.

Acceptance of living with bipolar took me about three years, in and out of hospital. Every year, I would run into pressure at work and think I should put my head down and battle it out. Well that battling put me in hospital three times, sometimes for three months.

If I can give any advice to someone with bipolar, it is to know your limits. Have boundaries and don’t cross them. Looking for a challenge is natural and everybody needs a bit of bounce in their life. However, it’s important to know when to stop and when to take a break, because if your teacher doesn’t know, or your boss or your lecturer doesn’t know, then you are your own teacher, lecturer and boss when it comes to your illness.

Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do. Listen to yourself first and listen to the medical staff as well. Friends and family are unbelievably important but they are not qualified to care for you when you are sick. Try and be open with your emotions and talk to the right people.

I went through three years thinking that a delusion I had was actually true. Then, I was in hospital one day and I talked to a friend who explained her delusion. It was so similar to mine that it had to be that both of us were experiencing an element of mental illness.

This was the start of my recovery. Nobody wants to accept they have faults. So I backtracked all my past delusions and realised, that is all they were: delusions. It was a great feeling to get my grip back on reality. I’ve never experienced anything as special as gaining back my senses. It was like I was locked up in a tomb for three years and then crawled out of a small hole. Let the good days roll on and challenge the bad days.

Getting help:

 

Remember: All drugs, including the misuse of prescribed medication, can pose serious health risks, up to and including possible death.

I never thought much about the risk of drink spiking until it happened to me. I was out for a night with friends, the normal mix of drinking, dancing and generally having fun in the same nightclub we go to every weekend. Throughout the night, we left our drinks at a table every time we hit the dance floor. The only thing we worried about at that time was the chance of someone stealing our drinks.

By the end of the night, I’d had a few drinks – enough to be tipsy but not too bad as I always had to wake my parents up when I got home.  As we left the nightclub, I spotted my brother and went to talk to him, leaving my friends to head to the nearest takeaway, after which we would all get a taxi home together.

After a while talking to my brother, I headed off to find my friends again but at this point I didn’t feel well. I was dizzy, confused and sick feeling, and felt paranoid that people were laughing at me. The time after leaving my brother is a bit of a blur. I stumbled around the street and takeaways but didn’t find my friends.

Unfortunately, they thought I’d gone home with my brother and had already left in a taxi. I was very upset as well as sick by then and I was too confused to figure out how to get home. Luckily, a taxi stopped and the driver, who knew my family, asked me if I was okay – I must have looked in a bad way by this point. He offered to take me home, so I got in and he drove me back to my parent’s house.

Once there, I couldn’t get my key into the door. At this point I was barely able to stand: I kept losing my balance and falling, banging against plant pots as I fell. I rang the doorbell several times and when my mother finally opened the door, she found me in tears, covered in bruises and unable to explain what was wrong with me. The next day, I felt awful and explained to my parents that I didn’t really know what happened. It was my mother who suggested that I might have had a drink spiked, either by alcohol or drugs, I’ll never know which.

It was a valuable lesson and I feel very, very lucky that I was taken home safely that night and that I didn’t end up in any further danger. Since then, I always keep an eye on my drink and either finish it or take it with me when I go dancing or move around in a pub. I also try to never leave friends to get home on their own at the end of the night, especially if they’re drunk. Anyone who is reading this: take care of yourself and your friends and keep an eye on your drinks, so that you never end up having as bad a night out as I did.

Find out more about alcohol, drink spiking and taking care of drunk friends.

 

"You've got to get yourself together
You've got stuck in a moment and now you can't get out of it
Don't say that later will be better now you're stuck in a moment
And you can't get out of it."

When I first started in UCD I never dreamed that I would be stuck in a moment that I just couldn't get out of. In school I was lively, outgoing and the life and soul of the party. College was going to be a doodle for me. It would be fun, frolics and fabulous times (with a bit of study thrown in). Unfortunately though, my life wasn't a Hollywood teen movie and things didn't pan out exactly how I'd hoped.

A few months into my course and UCD changed for me. It was no longer this place of excitement and adventure, but rather a huge concrete jungle of loneliness and isolation.

For months on end I just felt sad, down and tired of my life. As I walked through the arts block I felt like a ghost. Everyone was having the time of their lives but no one ever noticed me. I felt stupid for thinking these thoughts. Here I was in the epicentre of Ireland’s best university! I was surrounded by Miss Worlds, top scholars, top athletes and then there was just me…plain, boring, ordinary me. I felt more and more worthless and all the self-esteem I used to have was long gone.

Everyone else had made friends and were having the time of their lives while I just wanted to end mine. As a last attempt to revive some sort of interest in my life, I threw myself into my study. I would spend hours on end staring outside of those vast, glass library windows, looking down at couples walking hand in hand, while I sat there with only my books for company. Studying for my Leaving had been so easy, but now I couldn't read a page without it being a mammoth task. Finally, my days were spent watching Neighbours and Home and Away or sleeping, as I was exhausted all the time. I wished that I could run away to Australia and I just felt like life would be better for everyone if I wasn't around.

When I went home for Easter I put on a brave face. I made up loads about all the people I had met and how brilliant study was going. I didn't want to embarrass my parents by telling them about their failure of a daughter. I mentioned to my sister that I was feeling a bit down. She just told me to snap out of it as I had exams coming up and had to start concentrating. I really did try to snap out of it. I went to the gym lots, went out and even went on a date with this gorgeous law student. But I just couldn't shake off what I was feeling.

Then one night things began to change. As everyone else headed to the student bar I headed home for another evening by myself, dreaming to myself that God would be kind and take me away in my sleep. I decided to tidy up my room, which, as a reflection of my life, was in a total mess. I came across my fresher’s guide and it opened on the page 'Depression'. I began to read it and look down the list of symptoms of this so called illness:

My mental checklist ticked all these boxes. Could it be possible that I was actually suffering from an illness? I shook my head. Illnesses are when you have asthma, cancer or the flu. Feeling down couldn't be an illness that could be treated could it? I decided to take the fresher guide advice and booked an appointment with one of the counsellors.
That first hour with the counsellor changed my life. She told me that what I was feeling could and would be treated. I let out everything that I was feeling and she assured me that from here on in that I would get better.

She wasn't lying. I started on a course of anti-depressants and with regular visits to the psychologist I became a new person. I discovered that lots of students feel exactly the same way I do.

Within a month of talking to the counsellor I was able to concentrate on my study and get a good night’s sleep. I slowly started to build up my confidence and to realise that I may have been surrounded by girls that were smarter, prettier and funnier then me, but I was the only me. No one could be a better Elisa O' Donovan than me and it was up to me to make her the best she could be.

The psychologist explained to me that many people suffer from depression after a life altering experience. For some people, this may be a death in the family, but for me it was leaving home and starting college. The worst thing for me about my depression was the isolation I experienced. I felt isolated because I was ashamed and embarrassed to tell anyone how I was feeling. However, the more I let it fester the worse and worse my depression got. Like any illness that is left untreated, it only got worse.

I hope that anyone who reads this and feels the way I did will know that they are not alone in what they are feeling. Lots of students on campus right now are feeling how you are feeling. Please don't let it fester like I did. Talk to the welfare officer or one of the counsellors. They are there to help you and to get you feeling better about yourself again.

Now I'm heading into my third year of medicine, with an abundance of friends who care about me. My life still isn't the teen Hollywood film I thought it would be (I'm still looking for the hunky star quarterback to sweep me off my feet) but it’s my life and I'm enjoying every minute of it.

Most experts agree that a combination of medication and some form of verbal therapy is the best way of dealing with depression. This was the route I took and I cannot emphasise enough, the importance of talking about your feelings with a trained expert. However, for this article I will be focusing on the medication side of things.

My reasoning for this is simple; when I was first diagnosed with depression my doctor recommended that I start with medication first, and then proceed to counselling/therapy. Her belief was that I was too overcome with emotion to handle the counselling at that moment, and that allowing some time for the antidepressants to work would help me to be less overwhelmed by the whole experience. I took her advice and followed that plan. This worked for me, but doesn’t mean that this is necessarily the only 'right way' of doing things. 

Medication is a big part of treating depression. It is almost inevitable that a doctor will prescribe (or at least suggest the use of), some antidepressants while recovering from depression. This is something that really bothers some people. There is a fear that surrounds antidepressants; many people think they will turn them into zombies. I shared that concern and even now I would still have a little apprehension about some antidepressants.

I was reassured to find that some antidepressants are milder than others. Like so many things, the results differ for everyone, but I found that they were very effective. Even at the higher dosages, they did not cause my personality to change and I didn’t become the zombie I had feared I would become.

For me, it’s important to realise the limitations of antidepressants. I compare antidepressants to taking painkillers. If you break your leg, a painkiller will numb the pain, but it doesn’t do anything to put your leg back together. I approached antidepressants with the view that they did not fix anything; they were there to help relieve some of the pressure and confusion that depression had flung upon me. When the antidepressants started to work, it allowed me to begin the real work of putting myself back together.

And now we come to the side effects. As you can imagine, they are many and varied. Initial side effects are pretty universal: sick stomachs and constant tiredness should be expected in the first week. Some other side effects followed me for longer. If I allowed myself to get too thirsty or too hungry, all my energy would disappear instantly, like somebody had flicked a switch to off. Also, I found my dreams and nightmares got more regular and vivid while I was on antidepressants. Waking up in the morning was often difficult too. A very loud alarm or having a very patient person to wake you up is a big help.

I was on antidepressants for well over a year before I approached my doctor about cutting down the dosages and eventually getting off them totally. By this time, I had progressed well in my therapy and felt confident that the support of my therapist was there to help me through the difficulty of readjusting.

Now that I have been off antidepressants for a number of months, I can look back and realise that there are some others effects. My moods were restricted, never too low or too high; and things like reading a book were a bit more difficult, but definitely not impossible. Also, food never tasted better than it did in the days after the antidepressants had left my system.

The help I got from my antidepressants far outweighed the side effects however. They were an important tool that helped my recovery. They are not something to fear. If you have concerns, talk to your doctor, ask plenty of questions and express your feelings. Give your doctor a chance to address your concerns before ruling them out.

Antidepressants are not a miracle cure in a capsule, nor are they the scary pills that some think of them as. Like most things, the truth is found somewhere in between. Combined with reasonable expectations and some counselling/psychotherapy, antidepressants can be very useful in your recovery.

Being a person who suffers a lot with their mental health is frustrating at times. I get frustrated with the “illness” term, I get frustrated with the way people perceive me, I get frustrated at listening to people talk about how selfish people like me are and I get frustrated about spending days in agony. In short, I get frustrated about being frustrated.

I attend a voluntary job at Pieta House once a month – I treat myself to a taxi to get there. Once you tell the taxi driver where you are going though, you have a 50/50 chance of that taxi driver word vomiting negativity all over you for wanting to help people.

At times, I really think of giving up everything – quitting college, quitting volunteering, quitting caring, quitting life, because really what is the point of any of it when so many people cannot see what I envision or see? Instead of people actually saying “Well done” with regards to how far I’ve come, they still doubt me and my capabilities! So I will explain to you what the point is, seeing as so many people cannot see it.

I am no less capable than anyone else. I am well able to attend college to study counselling and psychotherapy. In fact, I have more experience in the area I want to become a professional in than someone would get just from reading literature and taking exams. My direct experience means that my capacity for empathy is deeper than most and that my understanding of despair, situations of trauma and mental health afflictions is immense and widespread.

I am just like you, except that I fight through a lot of negative thoughts

I am also capable of going to work; I perform my job in an excellent manner and have the necessary motivation to keep me on track within the work force. I even admit that I like my job. My motivations for work are just like the majority of people; coupled with the added pressure that mental ill-health can give you. I am also highly motivated to prove society and people wrong.

I am the same as everyone else: I wake, I eat, I drink, I smile, I laugh, I cry, I feel, I sleep. I am just like you, except that I fight through a lot of negative thoughts just to do any of these. Yet I still do it. I fight feelings of the deepest sadness you can feel and some days I even fight self-destructive thoughts, but yet I am still out there living my life.

I work hard at trying to fit healthy food in my diet daily and I drink four pints of water per day. I even push myself the extra mile by cycling, walking or jogging to work in the mornings and then again back home in the evenings. All of this helps to keep my body in top shape for what I need to do each day, I also know that working extra hard to stay in shape gives me the ability to fight these mental “illnesses” and maintain some form of stability within my life.

I write for SpunOut where my opinion is highly valued and I use my experiences to help and inform others. In helping and spreading knowledge, I hope to help break down stigma. I also volunteer one weekend a month in Pieta House because I believe I can share hope. I want to help those who are in their darkest moments and shine a light for them along their journey.

I maintain healthy relationships within my life; I have amazing friendships and a beautifully strong relationship with my boyfriend. I work hard on my friendships and my relationship even when I am struggling within myself. I make sure not to neglect others and I always make time for people, as well as for myself. Some people see those with mental “illnesses” as selfish, but actually many people who suffer with any form of mental “illness” are some of the most loving people you can find to walk this earth.

Although my past is covered with a wide range of problems, this does not make me weaker than anyone else. I am not broken, I am just deeply hurt and I work daily on bandaging the mental wounds inflicted by others. I am strong, I hold more in my hands than most people ever will in a lifetime, I feel hope larger than most, I feel love in depths unknown to the majority of people. I have actually lost people too – some people walk away because my life is too heavy to handle. It is easy to walk away, but to stay and fight through all of this is a sign of the highest strength within man.

I know it will take a generation to break the stigma but if I remain silent about my battles, it will make them all pointlessly painful, so I share my insight. I assist others, I walk with those who have lost their way, I am not afraid to hold their hand. My emotions may be more extreme and more deeply felt, but it does not mean I am shattered or crazy; it just means that I am no different to you.

It is a strange day when you look at your parent and realise that you must now look after them, that you must now be the one in charge, the grown up.

My mother has always been my rock. My father died when I was nineteen and she got through that with the help of great family and friends. It was a real blow to her as my parents were actually deeply in love with one another. However, even when she was going through that hell she was still always there. In fact, it made us even closer. There was, and is, really nothing I wouldn’t tell my mother. Wherever in the world I was living I could always count on her. I shared my triumphs, my joys, my worries, my everything with her…

Then she was diagnosed with cancer. To say it was earth shattering was an understatement. I had already lost one parent to that affliction; I couldn’t believe that my other parent was battling with it. For a variety of reasons, I ended up moving back home to be with my mother. She never asked me to of course, and worried what it would do to my life. But I knew that it was time for me to be there. She is not the type of person who would ever ask, but all of my siblings couldn’t do it for various reasons.

So I moved back home. That in itself was quite the adjustment. However, as I watched my mother lying in a hospital bed and talking only in monosyllabic tones I quickly realised I had to get with it! I could stress and worry about it all or take it day by day and do what needed to be done. So I kept the house clean and secure while she was in hospital; I fed and minded the cat, took phone messages and tried to visit her daily. When she came out, I helped her readjust to being back at home, made her nourishing meals, kept her company in the evenings when she was tired and offered all the moral support I could.

She is now very well and my life has changed beyond recognition. I still nag her about looking after herself and tease her that her daughter is now the bossy, nagging one and she is the naughty child, but besides that our roles have gone back to what they were before. I do worry about her health, but not to the same extent as I once did. There are some nights I wake up in a panic, thinking about it coming back, but all I can do is live one day at a time.

Life can take us on some journeys, but we can survive them. It’s an annoying cliché sure, but if you keep a positive attitude you will be okay. Even if the worst happens you will survive. There will be hard times, but you can move through them. I did. I know you can too. There are some great support groups available for carers.

Information on your rights and entitlements can also be found at the Carers Association website here.

 

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