64 | May 2013 www.womanthismonth.com I read a saying recently: “You cannot heal what you don’t admit exists.” And so, I admit something. I lost my closest friend many years ago. Over the years guilt has embraced me more than once. The usual questions arise. “Could I have helped? Why had I not done more for someone I termed my best friend? Why was I not able to see the signs?” Depression takes many forms. No two sufferers will present the same symptoms. Those who suffer from this terrible infliction should know that they are neither alone nor without help. I have cried much and often for my friend. Happy times made me sad for she could not enjoy the sights and sounds, joys and happiness. I felt unworthy of my happiness. Sad times were worse. Born in the mid ‘70s I am of the generation raised to just ‘deal with it’, taught by elders to ‘build a bridge and get over it’. A ‘put on a brave face and face the world’ kind of attitude has done me well for many years, until recently. I have known for sometime that things just weren’t right. I had an uneasiness about my life. The usual ‘go get them’ kind of woman suddenly began to shy away from crowds. First it was staying indoors through the week, then on weekends. Then I found I would go a week or two without socialising. I ate more than usual and slept less. I thought too much and cried too often as relationships faltered. On the outside, my life was brilliant. On the inside, my life had evaporated into uncertainty. On self-reflection, I finally had to admit that perhaps something in this strong alpha female’s life was slightly awry. None of us like to admit defeat. I had felt ill for a few months with flu-like symptoms. Doctors, X-rays and antibiotics — fruitless. I suffered symptoms but no disease, except for a general feeling of malaise and the tears. I am not one to embrace social networking, but one connection on LinkedIn had been a Bahrain-based female doctor with the title of psychologist. I knew not the difference between psychologist, psychiatrist or ‘shrink’, so I asked her that exact question. Apparently, ‘shrink’ is lingo. Psychiatrists prescribe medications and psychologists are the ones that practice therapy. I feared my first meeting. I almost cancelled a dozen times. But after several meetings now I have to admit, I wish I had not waited so long. Weight gain or loss, over sleeping or lack thereof, stress, tears, insecurities and general unhappiness are all, it would seem, symptoms of depression. My mother suffered it; she spoke rarely of it and so too have I for my own reasons. Depression does not mean I was born sad, often I have been described as the clown of parties. Sadly as with many comics, I hid tears behind the laughter and mayhem. I am not repaired fully. Time will heal; so they say. But finally after so long I feel better and just wish to tell you all that if things don’t feel right, don’t try to deal with it alone. There is nothing wrong in asking for help. Sometimes just being heard can go a long way and by admitting it, you can begin to heal. WoMentality In an age of social media where adding strangers as friends is easy, few of us ever ask for true help from the strangers that count. Asking for Help By Hard-headed Woman
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