Iona

Like a lot of people, I found it very hard to accept that I might actually be depressed. I battled it for most of my teenage years, before finally accepting I had a problem in my first year at university. A big part of my illness was guilt: I had a roof over my head and a family who loved me and yet I still felt miserable. Whilst I would advise friends describing the symptoms that I felt to seek help, somehow I didn’t think I deserved any intervention from anti-depressants or talk therapy and that I should just “snap out of it”.

Eventually, I realised that it was having a crippling effect on my life: I would feel like crying at the prospect of climbing a set of stairs and couldn’t face doing things I usually loved. I was no longer able to meet university deadlines and just wanted to curl up in bed all day. The more inactive I became, the more I loathed myself. I was lucky enough to have a huge amount of support from family members who had knowledge of treating and living with Depression.

As well as medication, which had varying effects on me, I found talking about things made me realise how hard I was being on myself and how irrational my feelings were. Experience makes it easier to detect when thoughts are becoming clouded by Depression. I also entered into a loving relationship with my now husband, which helped build my self-esteem. A big part of my recovery was linked to discovering what I wanted to do with my life and the purpose this realisation gave me. I realise not everybody is as fortunate in finding a vocation they are happy with. However, one thing I did learn was to give myself the same advice I might give a friend who came to me for help, rather than setting myself impossible standards.

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