I’ve heard good things about coping with depression through blogging. Problem is, I work in the mental health industry. I help other people cope with their depression and encourage them to talk about it and ask for help, but when it comes to my own depression, I’m afraid to take my own advice. It just feels wrong. I work in mental health. I know lots of facts. I help other people. I shouldn’t suffer from it myself. I’m desperate, though. I’ve got to do something. So I’ll try keeping this blog & hope to goodness it stays anonymous.
Last night I thought very seriously about overdosing. I did all the research online to make sure I’d just end up in the emergency room and not actually die. I also pulled up a few tabs with crisis line numbers. I thought about calling one, but didn’t want to because I hadn’t taken a shower in 2 days so my hair was greasy. I ended up calling my husband and he came home to be with me. I cried a lot. I slept. I missed work today. I feel guilty because I LOVE my job. I just couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed.
I’m still thinking about doing something drastic. I don’t want to die. I just want help. Serious help. The NHS has been absolutely useless in helping me, though. And the NHS is my only choice. We hardly have money to eat. We certainly can’t afford private treatment.
A few months ago I went to the doctor and told her I was thinking about jumping in front of a car. I assured her I didn’t want to die and would never actually do it, but the thoughts and strong desire were there. She referred me to counseling. I also asked her to change my medication because I’d been on it for several years and felt it wasn’t working any more. After about 4 different visits… with her telling me to just keep trying to stay on my medication, she finally agreed to change my meds. I don’t know if they’ve stopped working already or if I’m just lower than my medication can cope with. I went to counseling once.
My experience with the NHS counseling service was absolute shit. After a phone consultation with someone clearly in a call centre (and there’s no way they had any psych. qualifications), I was told I needed Cognitive-Behavioural Therapy (CBT). On countless occasions, we got letters saying they’d tried to call us but couldn’t reach us. We never got any phone calls. I even called twice and made sure they had the right phone numbers for us and that they had all of our phone numbers so they had 3 different numbers to get in touch with us. We still have never received a call. After waiting about 3 months, one of the letters confirmed my appointment. I went. It cost £8 taxi each way to get there because it was in such an inaccessible location for us. We don’t have a car, so we’re reliant on public transportation. When I got there, they said, “Oh we tried to call you. The appointment is cancelled.” I went home having wasted £16 and no closer to getting help. They sent me a letter a few days later giving me a new appointment (still saying they couldn’t reach me by phone). I was prepared to go, but the day of my appointment I got another letter (AGAIN saying they couldn’t reach me by phone) saying that my appointment had to be rescheduled again. A few weeks later, I got another letter (you know the whole “we couldn’t reach you by phone” shit by now) with my new new appointment. I went. £16 spent. The counselor gave me crisis line numbers. We talked a little. I didn’t like her. She didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass about me. I didn’t go again.
Now I’m here… quickly approaching rock bottom… still trying to resist overdosing… still trying to resist starting to self-harm again. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to get the help I need. I don’t want to die. I just want help, but it looks like in order to get the help I need, I’ll have to do something drastic.