The New Me
The New Me
Defining a “Journey”
I’ve never been fond of that word, journey. That is until recently. Through my eyes the word journey implied many
things that I could not relate to in any conceivable way. Early in my years of battling Major
Depressive Disorder, I absolutely hated the word journey. When I was in my greatest depths of illness,
I thought the term journey implied that I was on a voyage that would lead me to
an end, a good end with a positivity about it and a sense of completeness. Journey to me was like a trip and implied there
was a firm beginning and a wonderous destination, an achievement of sorts that we
learn from while navigating over a few bumps on the road. I pictured a journey as ending in a place of
comfort, a final destination that was earned through enlightening experience. I
felt this way for the first 5 years of my illness and cringed whenever someone
told me I was on a journey of wellness and recovery. For me, this was no journey. The idea was simply ridiculous. I was in permanent hell with a few teasing,
so called “stable” months but the rest was not seemingly anything I wanted to
call a journey. It was not just a period
with a bumpy road. In fact, there didn’t
even seem to be a road. The odd time I
bounced onto a dim rugged pathway, but the rest was like being in a deep, dark,
empty crater. There was no hope. There
was no journey because there was little hope and hope is an essential piece to
any journey. THAT IS, until the end of
2019 when my outlook changed a little. A
new treatment called Ketamine would offer that much needed hope. I will talk about that later. This is my story of depression. My so-called journey.
Who was I?
Before illness took hold in 2015, I was a confident, happy,
creative, energetic, excitable woman with a wonderful family including a loving
husband, son and daughter who were my whole life. I grew up in a loving home with two caring parents,
and I was incredibly thankful for them and all they did for my sister and myself.
I had experienced no major trauma and no real hardships in life. At 42, I was a woman of dreams with a fabulous
and proud work history ranging from Head Coach/Administrator, Foster Parent, Manager
and finally Executive Director. I loved
my working world and it showed. I had a spark, and I remember that feeling
vividly. My life seemed to be quite smooth,
others might say pretty damn perfect and I would have to agree. Then, something happened. I’m still greatly
unclear what, when, why or how but mental illness took hold, in a serious and
scary way. In 2015 something in me drastically
changed. Something huge, something completely out of my control. Some say I was
triggered by the surprising and deeply disturbing suicide of a dear friend and
co-worker as I didn’t seem to have any other precipitating factors. While I
felt that I had dealt well with my grief at the time, several months later something
inside me broke. I became quiet and very
introspective. My thinking seemed to focus entirely on the purpose of life, and
I’d ask myself “Why are we here and what’s on the other side?” Then those
thoughts became dark. Very dark, and the darker they became, the further I fell
from reality. I developed an apathy for
almost any situation. I became blank,
nothing, no one. I wouldn’t say I was
ever sad, as some perceive depression to be, but I was very withdrawn and
unable to experience life, feelings or enjoy simple things. My family seemed
distant to me. Initially, and often
throughout the years of illness, all of this was very much an inside experience
that I shared with no one. As with many who suffer from depression, I was able
to become quite the actress shunning the outside from any pain. I should have won awards. I was that good! Only those who were closest to me had a sense
that something was wrong. I began seeking
time alone, writing dark thoughts, painting lonely scenes and then, at its
worst, the terror of absolute nothingness began to take its toll. I began to
focus on leaving this world and ending my life.
This went on and on for 6 years.
6 Years
Depression is cruel. It has no limits. It can affect anyone,
young or old and no matter what your circumstance. Mild to moderate, or scary and severe it
seems to take a shape of its own and the strangest thing about it is that it
affects everyone differently. It tugs at
you, so you never really feel at ease.
It honours no season and seems to arrive precisely when it feels like it
with the precipitating factors being anything or nothing. For me, depression is
like a thick, black paste. It is the
muck of bleakness. Depression for me means feeling nothing yet at the same time
there is a feeling of real pain and suffering. It seems a little oxymoronic. I
was never sad, never angry and rarely frustrated. I was nothing. A complete sense of apathy for
everything and unable to feel emotion.
For me, depression feels like I’m non-existent. I do believe that in
some way, the quiet terror of severe depression never really passes once you’ve
experienced it. It hovers behind the
scenes while medications and treatments attempt to bring you back to life. For me, depression is completely life
altering and at times, life threatening.
Some bouts of depression can really take hold and cause me to want to
let go, as dark thoughts become incrementally worse with every passing
day. Often times, my depression would
come upon me rather suddenly. Within
days of onset, I would be quite incapacitated. Other times, I would have the cold,
dark blanket over me for months, just waiting, like leading me up a mountains edge
and then pushing me off a cliff. In my case, I became unaware of myself and my
surrounding family. I needed help that my medications alone didn’t seem to want
to address.
I have been admitted to hospital 6 times in 6 years. The first admission came in May of 2015, where
I was admitted to Belleville General Hospital, transferred to Kingston General
Hospital until the end of June and was released with medications while also
starting Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT) treatment that lasted until
September. Then I slipped again that
October and was readmitted to BGH. Eventually I was transferred to Providence
Care where they tried Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS). I stayed there
until December. Early in 2016, the blanket became suffocating and I was then
prescribed lithium. This worked well for
me initially. So well in fact that in
2017, I believed I was well enough to go off all my medications. I had quite
the epiphany at the time, as many patients do when they experience a rise in
mood, and I believed all would be right in the world when I went off my meds. I wondered If I would be free at last. I
lasted 2 months, and then I fell hard. I
was admitted to hospital again for a 3 month stay that involved more
medications and restarting ECT. Once
discharged, I continued ECT on an outpatient basis. In April of 2018 I was admitted again, and
again, restarted more ECT treatment. It
is estimated that in all I may have had at least 70 ECT treatments and it had definitely
taken its toll. While ECT was somewhat
effective at the time, it wreaked havoc on my memory, my creativity and I never
really escaped a sense of dullness. I
forgot short term things like my history of illness (which maybe is a good
thing). In fact, for this blog, I have
had to rely on my husband’s memory of dates and admissions. To this day, I
simply have no recollection of any hospital stay, visits home to see family, or
anything at all for several years. While
extremely uncommon, I also experienced severe memory loss of past events…like
my children’s childhood, family trips, special events, they were all gone. It was questionable if the balance of loss
was worth the treatment but when you are drowning, any life raft will do.
That is not the end, however. New medications took me home once again until
February of 2019, when the lights went out once again. I would gobble down my usual medley of pills
each day, but this was to be a more severe bout that I could not easily avoid. This
time, I remember a lot more than previous admissions. At this point, my depression had taken on a
life of its own. Sadly, depression doesn’t
always send out clear signals for others to pick up on. It is superb at performing much of its destruction
“under cover”. The mental pain was agonizing
but it seemed that there wasn’t a way of communicating my pain or true lack of emotion.
I remember trying to fake smiles, fake alertness and fake conversation but
there was no fever, no broken bones, no arms in casts and no bruises. Nothing to say, “I am really sick”. So, I solved that. I started cutting myself, to feel something.
This seemed to provide a sense of control over my own body and was a true sign
to others that something was terribly wrong. I remember worrying “What if I can’t
fake it anymore?”. “What will this do to my husband?”. “What would another hospitalization do to my
kids?”. “What would my employer think if I was to be admitted to hospital for
mental illness?”. I was also always
worried about the potential skeptism of others. People saying, “It can’t be
that bad, just look at the bright side of things and be happy for your life”. It was hell.
By June of 2019, I was completely broken. I was nothing. I couldn’t care for myself, make my own
decisions and the decisions I wanted to make were dark and scary. All I wanted
to do was figure out a way to end the pain…any way possible. This time, I
remember some of my 5 months stay in the hospital. Not only the mental issues,
but physical as well. I remember vast confusion,
falling by my bedside, being unable to walk, unable to eat and thinking the
most bizarre things. I remember wondering
“How did I get here?” “How did I allow myself to get here”, “Why can’t I just
stay home?” I noticed the hospital also
seemed to be full of patients in their early 20’s and 30’s, but I remember no
others who were middle aged like me. That was just my perception, but it was
still surprisingly disturbing. I would sleep all day yet still look forward to
night-time when I could sleep again, that is if I could. Sometimes sleep was a difficult enemy that I
battled nightly despite the sleep medications I was given. I remember simply
staring into the dark of night in my empty room and listening for the occasional
sound of nurses at the nursing station. The
most discouraging moment, however, was during the case conference they held to
discuss my plan of care. I remember a
somewhat intimidating meeting of several doctors, family, a close friend and
myself to discuss treatment options and what should be done next, as there didn’t
seem to be many options left. I believe this was the first time I came to
understand the term “treatment resistant”. How scary! Should I go back to Providence Care? Should I
return to ECT treatment? Was the benefit
worth the risk of losing more of myself? What was next?
During that stay in hospital, my psychiatrist recommended trying
Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT). I found this difficult to start but I got better
at understanding the concepts the longer I worked on it. CBT would continue to compliment
all medication treatment even up to today.
On another occasion, my psychiatrist came to my bedside and brought up a
potential treatment that works for some but was still rather experimental. Ketamine infusions. It was being done at
Providence Care with some success and has been done across the country, at many
hospitals and at various private clinics.
I casually wondered if just maybe she could get it this treatment to be performed
in Belleville. As I understand, she worked hard at bringing it here. It took
weeks for the doctors to ensure all protocols could be followed and all the
while I remained in hospital. The nurses
would sometimes take me to a computer to do some research to offer hope around
the potential ketamine treatment and I remember, despite their efforts, having
no real thoughts on the matter. They could
do whatever they want with me. I had no opinion and I really didn’t care. That’s exactly how I felt. I didn’t care
about anything. Finally, in October of
2019, I was able to start this new treatment and what a story that would become.
Ketamine
It turns out, I was one of the lucky ones. In much of the research I have done, there have
been success rates anywhere from 50% to 75% depending on the source and fortunately,
I was in those percentages. There is a lot to read online about Ketamine
treatment for depression along with its benefits for other mental illnesses. From
scientific and medical studies to personal claims, it can be a little
overwhelming, and its history of being a party drug really made me wonder if
this was a good choice. But the literature
at the time seemed to indicate Ketamine for depression could have positive
outcomes. I remember being quite nervous
before the first treatment. I remember being wheeled down to the procedure
room, not knowing what to expect but I did notice that everyone seemed pretty
excited to be part of this experiment.
An IV was started and the infusion took place. It seemed quick, though lasted around 60 minutes. I remember them dimming the lights and
playing meditative music in the background to help pass the time. During the
treatment, there were no real side effects aside from being slightly dizzy,
almost like being a little drunk. It all
seemed pleasant enough, but I sure wasn’t expecting this treatment to do much. Nothing
else really worked well, why should this? When the procedure was complete, I was wheeled
back up to my room, still a little dizzy.
I remember falling asleep shortly after returning, but when I woke up, I
felt different. It’s hard to explain
exactly, but I remember thinking the gray had subsided and I could finally see
light. I remember thinking about things.
Thinking about life and feeling a little
better. There are no other words. Just better.
By the next day, all suicidal thoughts were gone and I couldn’t even
fathom the concept of ending my life. It
was like I was a different person. It felt as though there had been some sort
of “reboot” of an internal computer system. The infusions continued for a total
of 6 over a 2-week period and all I can remember was a return of a feeling of
hope. Something I hadn’t felt in years.
I began feeling again. Feeling love for
my family, sadness for my time lost while being ill, but overall a sense of
real wellness. The important thing is that I could feel. This was what real
recovery felt like. After 5 months in
hospital, this is where I started my journey. Yes, I finally felt that I could
use the term, journey.
Ketamine Road Continued…
I stayed well for a few months and the difference in the
sense of wellness was astonishing compared to previous treatments. I enjoyed a wonderful Christmas with family
and did quite well for a while.
Unfortunately, the effects of Ketamine wore off by February 2020 and I
slipped once again into a darkness that landed me back in hospital for the
month of March. This time, however, my
psychiatrist was quick to try the Ketamine treatment once again, but this time it
was done on a different schedule. I began
to feel the effects by the third treatment and with the darkness gone, I was
released from hospital once again. I
felt well and was able to look upon the latest month-long slip as just part of
my journey. I felt a sense of hope and
looked forward to the future. The new
schedule of Ketamine treatments continued on an outpatient basis initially with
3 per week, then 2 per week for a couple weeks, then 1 a week for a couple
weeks, then one every other week for a couple weeks and today, as I write this,
we are weaning down to a once a month schedule. It is really quite a simple and non-invasive treatment. I enter the hospital, change into a gown, get
weighed, hooked up to a heart rate monitor and have the IV started. The lights are dimmed, they play music in the
background, and I leave the hospital again in just a little over an hour. There
is a big difference this time around. I am slowly feeling parts of my old me
coming back. My creative side is showing
itself once again as I return to poetry, blogging and painting. My look upon the future seems bright as I now
consider returning to employment. I am
feeling like I am now on my journey to wellness. I do believe that a combination of Ketamine
and CBT has been the most helpful therapy I have done over the past 6 years!
Ketamine is not for everyone, but it is currently the right treatment for me
and if it helps me, perhaps it could be life altering for others as well. Ketamine not only delivers wellness, but also
a sense of hope and that is often all we need to keep moving forward.
The New Me
I have learned a great deal over the past 6 years. I have learned that I my husband is the most
devoted and supportive husband one could ask for. I have learned that my children are indeed
quite resilient. I have learned that I have
family and friends who truly care about my wellness. I have learned that the treatment of
depression can be difficult and is surely not a one size fits all. I have learned that I can never be the person
I was prior to 2015, but I can still become. Become a new me, on a road to
wellness. I have learned that I have
indeed been on a journey and continue to be.
I have learned to look upon my journey not as a single entity where I
must arrive at a single destination, but rather a series of short and lengthy trips
where there are several windy bumpy roads, many clear arrivals and many new beginnings. I have learned that it is very important to
appreciate each moment as the moments allow us to escape from adversity and
conserve our inner energy. I have
learned to appreciate each day of wellness with family and friends. Today, I am whole. I am happy and content with who I am and look
forward to growing as a result of my mental health journey. I am thoughtful,
fun, loving and most of all, resilient! I am reflective, smart, friendly and
social but some would say I am still kind of quiet at times. I am strong! This is who I am. I am full of hope for the new me, and hope is
a wonderful thing. This has been my
journey.
