My depression initially began when my grandmother and uncle died within months of each other. At the time, I was working as an registered nurse, and was proud to say I had saved every patient under my watch. It devastated me to the point that I could not save my uncle from cancer and I could not save my grandmother from sepsis, although neither were my actual patients. Soon, I was deemed mentally unfit to practice nursing and had to go to counseling and take medications. It was ironic because I used to be the mental health registered nurse who encouraged patients to comply with medication regimens and even taught classes on medications and mental health disorders.
I went inpatient for five days and had to see a psychiatrist for almost 18 months until he released me.
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I just give up.” As I lay there, my hair got matted to my head, I didn’t bathe, and I didn’t remember the last time I had eaten. When my spouse would ask if I had eaten, I would reply yes, but I was only putting food in the trash to make him think I had eaten the majority of some meal.
I called my doctor’s office with a knife to my wrist and asked for help; I told them I needed to see a psychiatrist. They told me that the next appointment available was in four weeks. I hung up the phone.
The only thing that kept me from hurting myself and relieving my family of me was my daughter’s face flashing before my eyes. I put the knife down. This was a Friday. The next morning, I called the hospital and I said I need help, I need a bed. I am depressed, and I had thoughts of killing myself. The hospital stated they had a bed, and that I could have it immediately, but I requested to enter that Sunday so I could spend time with my daughter before she went back to college. I remember trying to Christmas-shop online, but I was so mentally discombobulated, I couldn’t even read. I was seeing things move in the bedroom that I knew were not
I fell into a depression thinking I was not going to be able to go to college. My mother also could not get her surgery until she had insurance which she could not get because of her legal status. As I laid crying I came
Battle of Bull Run My eyes shutter my eyelids feel heavy. I can barely keep them open. I take two deep breathes and I attempt to sit up. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my upper leg.
Nothing there could comfort me. I was surrounded by white walls, and medical supplies in a room barely large enough for the bed and two chairs. This was before they built a new Children’s Hospital, though, which is filled with bright colors, beautiful murals with images of butterflies and flowers, and overall a more comfortable atmosphere. I remember lying in the hospital bed, under a thin sheet,
My friends and I went further in the hospital and came across a room that was full of old looking beds and chairs. In the back of the room my friends found a satanic ritual that had been done a while ago, along with an old chair covered with blood. While we were checking it out we heard a scream that came from the hallway and we thought that someone was living here. I got a sudden chill and was really creeping out of what I just heard.
Every night my father called and every night my mom and three little sisters anxiously awaited by the phone in the kitchen along with my grandpa patiently waiting in his chair to talk to my dad. While everyone else waited by the phone I was always somewhere else in the house, hoping the phone never rang, so I wouldn’t have to come up with another excuse not to talk to him. I felt hatred towards my father not only for what he had done in the past, but for allowing himself to be put in jail and away from the entire family for ten days without any type of visitations only short, long distance phone calls. Every night for nine nights in a row, I listened from my room in the basement to the sounds of my sisters’ impatient voices to talk to our dad. Every night I also heard those rambling voices turn to sounds of sadness and endless hours of sobbing until the little girls cried themselves to asleep.
I felt myself fading away. I didn’t know what to think, what to say, how to react. I was stuck. I could hear in the distance my mom justifying herself and asking me to not tell anyone, as if I could. The walk back to my room seemed like an endless tunnel with no light at the end.
Depression is a real illness and help is available. With proper diagnosis and treatment, the vast majority of people with depression will overcome it. If you are experiencing symptoms of depression, a first step is to see your family physician or psychiatrist. Talk about your concerns and request a thorough evaluation. This is a start to addressing mental health
An Autoethnography of Clinical Depression During the Formative Years of my Identity My mom and I are sitting silently across from each other at our kitchen table, tears streaming down both of our faces. She finally inhales shakily, and shaking her head, asks “You used to be such a happy girl, always laughing and smiling. What happened?”
In mid-November ,2015 I left my home and went to a therapeutic boarding school. There were many rules about what you could and could not do. I felt like the nutcase , the crazy one but no one ever said anything like that to me. It was more like my parents saying she 's not crazy she just doesn 't think and takes everything too seriously. My first night I walked into the bathroom couldn 't find the light switch and cried in the darkroom.
I was told my mother was on her way and would meet me there. The two words, "Emergency Room" made me think football might be over, When we finally arrived at the hospital; the paramedics took me to an empty bed where my Mom was already waiting. I have never like hospitals, everyone always sounds like they are going to die and the constant long drawn out beeps from the heart monitors always going off. The smell in the hospital didn’t help either. The nurse came in with a needle that in my memory looked long enough to go through my arm. "
Depression is basically a monster, a pest, someone that toys with you until you can’t stand it anymore. It’s one of my many demons; one of which I can’t shake. The shadow that walks with me and tries to end my life. My number one
I was putting my Halloween costume on when I heard something moving in my closet. I turn to the closet door half dressed with a curious look on my face. In my mind, it being Halloween, I thought I was just hearing things or my little brother was playing a prank on me. I walk out the door to my room, down the stairs and as I was about to walk out the front door my father caught me, “Where are you going?” he asked “Out, it’s
Personal narrative Depression can be a monster and destroy the lives of people, but in my case it help me express my emotions better by helping me be more honest with myself. Depression has never been alien to me. Since middle school I have danced with the devil. I do not know what triggered it then, but it was mostly likely hormones. Despite that ever looming sadness over my head, I was still doing well in school, at least as best as I could do, I still hung out with people and I was still social when I had to be.
Depression can cause severe symptoms that can affect how you feel, think, and handle your daily activities. Depression is always accompanied by sense of suffering as well as the belief that escape from it, is hopeless.
“Call an ambulance. She needs help!” I managed to plead despite all my tears. That night, my mom almost died. She is an alcoholic.