I thought I would share my experience :
The death of my beloved dad triggered depression in me at the age of 12, way back in 1976. I became completely mute for about a year and gradually withdrew from life and school in many ways. I was regarded as a weirdo and "one to be avoided". Sadly, this is how teenage depression was treated back then - it was never spoken about and best avoided!
Over the years, life has veered from inevitable car- crash mode to periods of calm. At it's worst, when I was in my mid 20's, I was referred to the local mental health hospital when I started getting voices in my head. The whole experience of being in that hospital terrified me - all I could hear were people wailing and shouting from down the corridor. I ran and never returned. I decided there and then that I would take care of myself and accepted that I was me and my crazy, haphazard mental state was part of what made me, me. I reminded myself that I was loved in spite of it ( although not by my family, as they had disowned me by now) and often loved because of it as it made me a kinder, more compassionate human being who never judged others.
Over the years, I found holding down a job ,in the longterm, difficult as some days my mind would race and I felt I could rule the world but by lunchtime I could barely justify being on the planet at all. It was like living on the mother of all roller coasters, with no escape. I had numerous failed relationships, often abusive, but somehow have managed to survive it all.Along the way I raised 3 beautiful children, single-handedly, in amongst the organised chaos that is the inside of my head. Life has never been, and never will be,a straight path and I am fine with that now.
The turning point for me was accepting that I am ok as I am. Some days are great, some ok, some are truly awful - but that is part of me and I have learnt to accept it and just ride the waves rather than fight it or wish it wasn't there at all. It is - and always will be part of me - no different to the colour of my hair or my eyes. At the risk of sounding like Lady Gaga, I was born this way.
My 18 year old son has inherited my mental illness and one afternoon last summer he was escorted home from school, as he was suicidal. At it's worst he was an incoherent ball of anguish, curled in the corner of the room. There were times when I was scared to let him out of sight as I feared he wouldn't return alive, but neither did I want him to shrink away into a darkened room away from the outside world - I knew from my own experience that you have to cling on to some form of "normality" in some small way, in order to stop spiralling downward.
Throughout all of this, he never missed a day's school. I insisted that he got out of bed, washed, dressed and ate good, nutritional food every day. I was determined to stand by him and get him and my two younger children through it all bit by bit. It broke my heart to see this wonderful, kind, funny, intelligent young man in such despair, and took me right back to those dark days of my own teenage years.
His younger brother and sister, aged 16 and 12, have also had to try and understand, as did his own friends.They have all been there for him, even though they felt useless at the time. My son has never forgotten their loyalty either. As a result we are incredibly close and little by little, we got through it. As a family we stuck together and I count my blessings that we have.
He has had the most incredible support from our GP who gave him his personal mobile number to call at any time, pastoral care at his school, Porchlight, and CAMHS. They, and I, have all been able to provide him with the skills to recognise the signs when things are sliding downwards, and when to speak out and ask for help and although it's been a bumpy road, we are in a good place now. Twelve months on, and he has made enormous progress and I am exceptionally proud of the way he has never given up on life, even when it was at it's bleakest. He still has his bad times, but they are not so scary for him and he feels more at ease in his own skin.
More so, I am so glad that his teenage years and the support available alongside a change in attitudes towards teenage mental health issues, has changed and improved. Even when the tunnel seems long and dark, there is a light at the end of it - hang in there x