21. May 2013 · 2 comments · Categories: Personligt · Tags:

The days are a death wish
A witch hunt for an exit
I am powerless…

This pretty much sums up how I feel most of the time. I am struggling with a severe depression and has been doing so since 2009. One day in October I completely fell apart and broke down in front of my mom. I just couldn’t take it anymore, every day was a struggle and I basically just wanted to die. My mom was very understanding and took me to the doctor. I showed every sign of a depression, but she wanted to test me for other stuff before she actually gave me the diagnosis – Depression. The test showed a dangerously low vitamin D level and she told me to take some vitamin tablets for 2 weeks. Yes D-vitamin can make you depressed, because it means you’re lacking all the good things the sun gives you. It’s like a tree without water and sun – it’ll slowly die.

The vitamin tablets didn’t make me feel better at all and my doctor made me fill out a form to see just how bad my depression was/is and it pretty much said severe depression on the verge of having to be hospitalized. I was tired and couldn’t muster any energy at all. I slept from 8pm to noon every day, because I kept tossing and turning, some nights I couldn’t sleep at all and it made me even worse. I mostly just stared at the wall, TV or laptop screen without actually doing anything. I lost my appetite and I lost my will to live. Having to come to terms with this was hard and my doctor refered me to a psychiatrist, to see if he/she could help me out. The psychiatrist I went to was not someone I felt I could trust and he basically just became the person who prescribed my anti-depressants. He put me on several types and it was first when I was put on Duloxetine (Cymbalta) that I felt better. I felt more energized and I got more social again. He concluded that I didn’t need him anymore and I was back to my own doctor. This was fine seeing as she was the only one I trusted and the only one I actually told about my suicidal thoughts, at first.

Everything was going okay, but out of nowhere I relapsed and my doctor refered me to the psychiatric facility at my local hospital. I got “hospitalized”, but I was free to leave and I slept at home. I had 2 weekly meetings with a doctor and 1 group meeting as well. The doctor I talked to was so nice and he made me feel comfortable, so I pretty much told him all about how I felt. He made me feel better and I think I kinda began depending on him to feel better. He was sadly not the head of the department and he had to consult another doctor about my medicine. This doctor decided that I should change meds from Deloxetine to Nortriptylin and that had some pretty bad side-effects. I got extremely suicidal and by the end of 2010 I had my suicide planned. I knew how to do it and when I could do it. I told the doctor I trusted about it all and he wanted to hospitalize me, but I refused. I knew deep down that I could never end my life, at least not at that time. It was right after Christmas and I had a friend staying over, so I wouldn’t be alone and my mom could watch me.. It was the hardest time of my life and luckily I got put on Venlafaxine and it made the suicidal thoughts go away.

I was released from the hospital right after my ankle reconstructive surgery and even though I had small relapses I managed to do okay until my mom broke her hip. My whole world fell apart and I just couldn’t handle it. My mom is my rock and being without her 24/7 was hard. I spend most of my time at the hospital keeping her company and I think it was the best decision even though some might say it was ridiculous. When I wasn’t at the hospital I was at home crying, because I missed my mom. I went to the doctor again and she refered me to a psychiatric facility again. This time I didn’t get a time until summer 2012 and I got an appointment with the same doctor, who put me on Nortriptylin. I have no trust in him and I just simply refused to let him treat me. Stupid I know, but I just couldn’t deal with that idiot again. All he did was making me cry and making me feel like a low life.

So from there on it has been going okay. I’ve relapsed many times, but I’ve managed to pull through and I guess that’s what counts. But relapsing all the time is not “normal” for a regular well medicated depression and that’s why my doctor has refered me to another psychiatrist to see if I might have bipolar affective disorder. I have some of the symptoms and it would explain why I’m not getting better than this, even though I’m on a high dosis of Duloxetine, which is the anti-depressant that works best on me.

Anyways.. Just thought I would share this story simply, because I know a lot of people are struggling with stuff and I can say that it does get better, but it won’t get better if you keep it locked up inside of you. Let it out, talk to someone, seek help or advice before it becomes too late.

Simpelthen for langt et indlæg til at jeg oversætter det, men helt grundlagt er det omkring min kamp mod depression og selvmordstanker.


  1. You are so brave to post this. I am sending you a DM on Twitter about something too.

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