I've been battling depression since my early teens (in retrospect) but was only diagnosed after having my second child.
When I have a low I can crash pretty quickly and what makes it hard for those I love around me is my symptoms can vary from episode to episode. One black spell I'll have zero energy, not get out of bed and if I do it's to lie on the couch and I don't speak. The next time I hit a low I'll feel like I'm wired, I'll scream and yell for no reason and basically I'm a bitch, the biggest meanest moodiest bitch you'll ever have the displeasure to cross paths with. Another time I'll actually physically feel sad, as hard as that is to describe. You remember your first boy/girlfriend and then your first real heartbreak? Where your chest actually ached you felt so heartbroken? That's what my depression feels like sometimes.
I have often used my depression as an excuse, a BIG excuse. Give me chocolate, I'm depressed. Leave me sloth on the couch, I'm depressed. Get takeaway, I'm too depressed to cook. I can't face the gym today, I'm depressed.
It is clinically proven that exercise, good nutrition and a healthy lifestyle in general is the best thing a depressive can do for themselves but in the darkest moments you can tell yourself, "Fuck it, I don't care."
I had a bit of a Once Were Warriors upbringing in some respects. I can remember my Dad beating my Mum. Dad was in jail for 6 years of my life for drug dealing. He is an alcoholic. I can remember parties where pot was freely smoked and being in the room while Dad and his associates bagged up pot into ounce bags to sell. I don't talk to my Dad any more, he still abuses his body with drugs and alcohol and has been back to jail recently for drink driving. I'm not blaming my depression on my Dad, or my Mum for staying, but I do have to think that growing up like that wasn't good for my mental wellbeing.
Depression is one of those crazy modern day illnesses where the cause is vague/unknown and anecdotally there can be family susceptibility towards mental illness although the link to why is still largely unknown. My Dad is depressive. My younger brother Dane battled what I think was bi-polar. He was never diagnosed and I'm not a doctor. Dane & I were so close growing up, we sort of had to be. Mum had to work full time when we were kids to support us while Dad was away so lots of the time it was just him and I.
When Dane was 23 he suicided. My mother found him hanging in the garage. I remember calling Mum wondering why I had these weird "So sorry" messages and texts on my phone. She said, "You better sit down" and right then and there I knew, I just KNEW my baby brother was gone and it was by his own hand. Telling that story never gets easier.
This lifestyle change for me is more than physical changes. It's being the best I can be, inside and out.
RIP little brother.
Dane Anson Joel Katipa
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