Anonymous Guest Writer

I've struggled with depression for most of my adult life. I've been on many medications, some working better than others, which determined how well I managed. It's been an up and down roller coaster for many years.

Coming off a medication was always a bad idea, however some meds required this in order to clear the previous med from my system in order to start the new one.  I never told anyone about my depression, and faked it the best I could when around people to be "normal", though not necessarily cheerful. 

Several years ago, when the depression was back, I heard about TMS, and with my psychiatrist's support, I signed up for this treatment. After the full treatment I felt great, and was encouraged. 

I had stopped all medication in order to qualify for the TMS program, and feeling so well, did not feel the need to restart meds.  That was a mistake.  Within 2 weeks, my mood plummeted, and I then learned that TMS was supposed to be an adjunct to meds, not a substitute. 

I went through one more TMS treatment protocol, however, the second time it did not work. So I was more depressed, discouraged, and wondering what to do next.  

I then heard about ketamine IV treatment, and a psychiatrist who specialized in this.  Even though it was extremely costly, and insurance would not pay any part of it, I signed up for a series of 6 treatments, at $500 each.  The treatments were administered by an RN, and after the initial consultation, the doctor never interacted with patients under her care.

Halfway through the treatment, I was aware that my mood had not lifted at all, and asked to speak to the doctor. She consented, and said that sometimes it takes the full 6 treatments to feel the positive effects.  So I continued through to the end of the 6.  At that point, I still had not felt any benefit and asked to speak with her again.  I was extremely down, discouraged, and hopeless. 

Her response was that maybe I needed a few more treatments to feel the benefit.  This made me angry, as she clearly had no sensitivity to the costliness of her program, and my very low mood. I left and my depression returned in full force.  My psychiatrist prescribed two of the anti-depressants that had worked in the past, as well as several anti-anxiety meds, however these did not help this time. 

Around that time, I found out that a major psychiatric hospital in the area ran an intensive outpatient program (IOP) for severely depressed patients, as well as those who had been inpatients, and were trying to transition back to the outside world.  

I was accepted into the next session, which also offered an APRN who would review our meds and recommend changes if needed.  My first meeting with her was a disaster.  She looked at my list of meds, and remarked "you have a polypharmacy here!".  I was ashamed and speechless, and left her office in tears. The IOP sessions were helpful, it felt safe to share my condition and history of attempted treatments, which most others did also.  

Tears were acceptable, and no one was shocked hearing others' painful stories. However the depression was not any different. I had complained to a supervisor about the APRN's comment, calling it unprofessional and insensitive to my vulnerable state. She then apologized and we started to meet again to address my meds. 

She recommended a different antidepressant (SSRI) which would replace the SSRI I was currently taking.  She didn't feel comfortable making any other changes from what my psychiatrist had prescribed. Within 2 weeks, I felt my mood improving, and for the first time in over a year, felt the black cloud lifting, revealing the sun.  

The difference was noticeable in the IOP, and within a few weeks, I was discharged as being safe to re-enter the outside world.  At that point, I felt so grateful to this hospital that had helped me so much, I wanted to volunteer or work in this setting, helping others with the pain I had endured for so long. 

I found out from my supervisor about a certificate program to become a "recovery support specialist" (RSS), a 6 week program that was intensive, and included lectures by different professionals in the field of psychiatric care, research, treatment, as well as readings and discussion. 

There was homework each night, and a strenuous final exam at the end. I completed the program,  graduated with a certificate of completion, and hoped I would find a position using my new role in this hospital.  After talking to several professionals I had met during the program, I was fortunate to be placed as an intern in 2 different IOP programs, observing, making comments as felt appropriate and learning more fascinating tools to deal with the symptoms of depression, as well as other psychiatric illnesses. 

Through this entire time, only my closest family and friends knew about my journey over the previous year.  I was self-conscious thinking of myself as having a "mental illness" and the stigma attached to this.  I did not trust that casual friends or acquaintances would continue to accept me, and not judge me.  I did not feel safe sharing my truth.  

After the internship, I brainstormed with my supervisor about what I hoped to contribute to the various programs at the hospital and, with her help, was fortunate to obtain part time employment working with inpatient individuals in a locked unit, most of whom had attempted suicide. 

I spent time talking to them individually as well as running groups for them to attend and focus on different issues pertinent to their struggles.  I encountered people with long term depression, such as mine, as well as other psychiatric conditions.  As I felt safe in this environment, I shared my story with these patients, who in turn shared theirs with me.  They viewed me as successful and "normal", and this gave them hope that they might achieve a level of recovery to live normal lives. 

As time elapsed, I realized that the most gratifying piece of this work was running group therapy sessions, so I requested starting my own peer support group.  I was given the go ahead, and started a weekly peer support group for "graduates" of IOP programs, who still felt the need to continue in their journey towards greater mental health. 

These two different but related programs continue to this day. I feel grateful to be doing this work, it gives me a sense of purpose, making a difference, and giving back to the community that helped me so much.   

We talk in group about the stigma of mental illness, and I was not surprised to learn that many of my patients have, like me, remained silent about their mental health issues, for fear of judgment and rejection. 

Although society has recently been publicizing the importance of addressing mental health (in light of continuous traumatic events in our nation), on a personal level, my comfort level with sharing my journey, my struggles, even doing as well as I am, has not changed.  

The world we live in does not feel like a safe place to share in such a vulnerable way, despite my belief that the stigma around mental illness should not exist. Sharing my journey anonymously feels safe, and I suspect many of your readers will find my story relatable. 

Despite my fear of sharing my mental illness with people I know, I also suspect that some of these people or members of their families have had similar struggles, and we all have not felt comfortable opening up about these struggles. 

This is sad, and I hope one day we can all sit around the table comparing notes on our various mental health struggles, rather than each one of us being alone with our pain in our own little corner.