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I am 55 years old, and depression snuck into my life at the early age of 16. Unfortunately, at that age, there was no name for it in my family. Growing up in a lower socioeconomic community, as they call it now – back then it was called “crazy.” I never thought being poor caused my depression, but I can say that being African American and poor played a great role in my getting proper health care.
As I got into my early 20s, I started finding more information about depression. The information I read about it scared me and made me feel ashamed to tell anyone because of the mental health stigma back then. Unfortunately, that stigma still exists today. I knew I needed to get help.
In my early 30s, I was prescribed medication for my depression, which was the start of the sampling. I truly felt like a guinea pig taking all these medications that didn’t work or caused serious side effects. I had never used any drug, and here I felt like I was floating through life most days. Sometimes I found it difficult to move or get up in the morning without drowsiness.
After many challenges and experimenting, I finally found a medication. It was something that made me feel happy and sad at times – I had more happy days than sad. When I had those good days, I tried to do everything I could because I was so afraid of feeling depressed for many days.
I never imagined or thought I would have carried this luggage with me for this long, but
I now know how to stop and control it, and that’s the best part for me.
Depression can be traumatizing, scary, and sometimes it makes you want to give up on life, children, friends, families, and most of all yourself. I work daily making sure that my depression does not secretly slip in and cause havoc in my life.
Connect with other people who are living with depression by joining our Depression Facebook Support Group.
Photo Credit: Zave Smith / Stone via Getty Images
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