Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Well that makes all the difference

I remember the day I was officially diagnosed with depression. I went to the doctor, went to pick up my prescription and went home and cried. I cried for a loooooong time. I turned my phone off and ignored my family and friends for hours. Later that night I went to the temple on a date with Brandon. (Remember those days) When I finally turned on my phone I had a hundred missed calls from my family and my friends worried about me.

From what I can remember I first had symptoms of depression when I was 12. My family probably just attributed it to being in a new environment. My family moved quite a few times that year, Washington to Oregon, Oregon to Utah, Utah to Oregon, Oregon to Utah and finally back to Oregon. It was a rough year. If you talk to my friends they can tell you that first move to Utah was really when the depression hit. I remember it being the second Utah move that triggered it. I stopped going to school, I didn't want to go to church, I had a sprained ankle so school was even more challenging and we were living with my Aunt in her RV parked on the side of her house. It was not a good time in my life. The days I skipped school were spent babysitting my cousin's 3 kids which I actually really enjoyed.

After moving back to Oregon and my life getting back to "normal" my depression kind of settled and I really just became an Eeyore. Not only was I experiencing depression but boy oh boy was I hormonal. My mood swings were horrible. I was up and down and down and up and it was like a roller coaster.

It wasn't until 2012 that I finally decided to go and get diagnosed and that day will always live in my memory.

Robert's experience being diagnosed with Bi-Polar was very similar. He wanted to just be alone but I'm a mean wife and made him hang out with me. He did use it as an excuse for everything. "I want to get frozen pizza. I'm Bi-Polar! I want ____! I'm Bi-Polar!" I shouldn't laugh about it but it was rather funny that he did that.

Robert always knew there was a high chance he would be diagnosed but the day it became official I'm sure will always be ingrained in his memory.

Why is it such a BIG deal to be diagnosed?
Is it because it is an illness that has a negative stigma?
Is it because once you have it you'll always have it?
What do you think?
If you are reading this and you have also been diagnosed with a mental illness did you have a similar experience?

1 comment:

Sarah said...

I don't want to be diagnosed because I don't want to become reliant on medication to feel "normal." Instead I struggle along on my own, because at least I know it's me (or some deficient part of my brain) struggling along and not pseudo-me soaring on medication. :(