For Emergency Situations please call 999 or 112. If you feel Suicidal call 1800 273 8255/1800 247 247, Text HELP to 51444 or call The Samaritans 116 123.

It’s 3 a.m. and I’ve been awake for about two hours now. The house is silent, aside from the periodic squeaking of the kids’ bunk bed and my husband mumbling in his sleep from our bedroom. The furnace kicks on and I finally have background noise to mask the third wave of sobs I’ve been choking back since the last time the furnace finished its duty and fell silent. This is the third wave of tears since I climbed out of bed, tired of tossing and turning. This is also the countless time of uncontrollable, unexplainable sadness in the past 48 hours.

The furnace kicks off again and I manage to stop crying so I don’t wake the entire house up. I look at the time and realize I potentially have less than an hour before my husband crawls out of bed himself. He worries about me enough as it is, so the last thing I need is for him to find me in the state I’m in right now. With that thought in mind, I unwillingly pull myself out of my chair and head back to bed.

I lie in bed, trying to concentrate on my husband’s breathing to lull me back to sleep, but my brain is moving too fast. I want to know why it seems as though the sandman has forgotten me over the past few days. Then it hits me; not only is this the second night of being haunted by my own emotions, it’s also the consecutive 24 hour period during which I’ve forgotten to take my antidepressant. Normally, I’m very vigilant about taking my meds as soon as I get done getting ready for work in the morning, but the past few days I’ve been running behind and have totally forgotten the two tiny, yet important, pills that keep my mind and emotions stable. Surely two missed doses couldn’t cause this much emotional chaos though. My husband crawling out of bed interrupts my thoughts and I feel myself finally begin to succumb to the unconsciousness I have been praying for.

My husband, thinking I have achieved more sleep than he did, is confused at my behavior when I stumble out of our bedroom three hours later. Every noise is irritating me and I choose to sit on the couch, absolutely silent, until I get in the shower. I don’t have the desire to even put on lip balm, let alone follow my normal make-up routine and I know, as I’m reluctantly heading out the door to work, that I’m forgetting something.

Once at work I begin to realize I should have just called in. The exhaustion is setting in and everything is making me that much more irritated. One colleague tries to help me and I bark at her for assuming I can’t do my job on my own. Another makes a comment about how hard of a day he’s having and I scream at him for not knowing anything about having a hard day. My boss makes a comment about how my speed isn’t what it normally is and I threaten to quit. As my boss and my co-workers are trying to piece together what would make me acting like a royal princess all of a sudden, I’m screaming deep down in the depths of my brain for someone to help me. That’s when I realize I’ve forgotten to take my antidepressant again. I’m half tempted to text my husband and have him bring me my meds, but I already know I will get a lecture about not taking care of myself, so I make a mental note to take the stupid thing when I get home from work. I don’t know why I bother, however, because by this point the wires in my brain are so confused from three days of not having the one thing that makes it function properly that I’m lucky I remember my own name, let alone to take a medication.

A week has now gone by and I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve forgotten I’m even supposed to take an antidepressant. My co-workers have started staying away from me because of how mean I’ve become and even my own children have begun walking on eggshells around me. My husband is becoming more and more concerned, and I swear if he asks me what’s wrong one more time I’m going to lose my cool. He’s absolutely correct though. There is something wrong and I’ve forgotten how to fix it. I’m at the point of being panicked all the time and I’m starting to feel trapped inside my own mind.

After a week of missing my antidepressant I don’t even realize how lucky I am that I still have a family, let alone a job. Nothing seems real and I feel like I’m constantly walking through a thin blanket of fog. I look at the mountain that overlooks our town and catch myself thinking how strange it is that something I look at every day seems so unfamiliar. For crying out loud, my own living room has begun to look unfamiliar and I feel like I’m constantly stuck between limbo and the real world. My mind is so confused that I don’t realize my depression is starting to overtake my life again in just seven days. Then it happens: I begin to notice that pain is the only thing that feels real. I want more of it just to feel real again, even if it just for a moment. I can’t though. My husband would leave me. I feel positive he doesn’t want to deal with my “craziness.” But if he can’t deal with it, then did he really ever love me at all? Of course not. No one could ever love me.

At this moment the volcano finally blows its top and my husband realizes that something is terribly wrong. The next time I leave the house I come home to find him standing in the kitchen, my normal dose of antidepressant in hand, as mad as a hornet. He’s counted my meds while I was out and has figured out what my “major malfunction” has been. After taking my meds and a nap, the healing process from the previous week begins.

I no longer have to worry about forgetting my meds. For the next week or so, until my mind resets itself, my husband gets my meds for me in the mornings right after I wake up. He’s still really upset with me, but he also thinks I purposely neglected myself the week before. He doesn’t understand that once the first dose of my antidepressant is missed, my memory is the first thing that is affected and the odds of me remembering to take my meds after that are slim.

After a couple of days, my mind is finally getting back on the right track and I begin to feel myself again. My body no longer fights sleep as though it’s a disease. I no longer feel as though the entire world is against me, nor do I feel unlovable.

Most of the time, I love what my antidepressant has done for me. Then there are times, when I forget a dose or two, that I wish I had never started taking it. Before the antidepressant, I felt overwhelming sadness most, if not all, of the time. Now, I’m happy most of the time but if I forget even one dose of my medication it begins a domino effect that I cannot stop on my own. The hardest part is getting my thoughts to slow down enough to trust someone to help me.

What people don’t understand about depression is how different it is for every person who experiences it. Not only may the symptoms vary……………………………………………….


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