The Reality Of My Diagnosis

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“There is no cure for your illness”, were the dreaded words I hear roaming around in the back of my head; coming from my doctor’s mouth. I just wanted to duct tape his mouth, so I wouldn’t hear the reality of what he was saying. But he wouldn’t stop; “We can get you back to a functioning level and that’s the best we could do. What did that mean, “A functioning level”? Sounded like a death sentence to me at the time. You mean I have to live with this for the rest of my life? Funny question to ask considering I had really already been living with mental illness (on a smaller scale) all my life. Was this my reality?

My horror really started when I was sixteen and in high school. It was midterm exams and I was feeling very anxious,worried and full of panic. Then one day I just collapsed. I couldn’t function anymore; I gave up on life. My days were spent asleep, whether in bed or on the sofa. I remember going to the doctor and receiving no help whatsoever. “We can’t give antidepressants to teenagers”,were his words and sent me home to fight this raging war all alone. Very few back then, knew much about depression and anxiety, let alone knowing how to deal with it. I felt I was left to die alone. My friends from school didn’t come near, maybe they thought I was contagious. My only support was my family and I am so thankful for that. Over time I gradually got a little better each day. In the 80’s we were so uneducated about mental illness and the walls of stigma were so high. It was almost if you ignored it long enough it would go away. But all through my life, I know now, I battled depression and anxiety. And I can openly speak the words and not have to hide in shame.

When I was “formally” diagnosed just three years ago; that I suffer from major depression and anxiety disorder. Does that make me feel any better? Somewhat. Now I have a name on what I’ve been battling most of my life. My nightmare now became a reality. I realize now I have a disability. Not a one confined to a wheelchair but a one that confined me to my broken mind.

Now it’s learning how to accept my disability and learn to live with my “thorn in the flesh”. I have come such a long way, my doctor says, I am now in the recovery stage of illness. But then I think, how can I be in recovery when there is no cure? Well, I have to get back to a functioning level and learn to control my symptoms and not the other way around. Learning to be the best that I can be and teaching my brain that it’s going to be ok. That is what recovery is all about; learning to live with my challenges and obstacles despite my illness. The reality is that, just like any other disability, I will have to find a different path that leads to a somewhat “normal” life.

It might appear that all I am saying is negative, but that is the reality of this illness. Negativity and depression coexist. It’s finding the positivity in this illness that leads you to the road to recovery. It’s finding the sunshine that’s hiding behind the clouds. Because I have a mental illness doesn’t mean I still can’t have meaning and purpose in my life. I am not my illness. Vitor Frankl in his book eluded to this when he said, “that life holds a potential meaning under any conditions, even the most miserable ones. I therefore felt responsible for writing down what I had gone through, for I thought it might be helpful to people who are prone to despair.” He wrote this after being freed from his hellish existence in a Nazi concentration camp. So I too, feel I have to write the truth about my illness, even if it is negative because that is the truth of my hellish existence; when I was trapped in my “concentration camp”. The memories of those most awful days will probably always be trapped inside my mind, but that’s all they are; memories and they can’t harm or hurt me anymore. It’s my life mission to free myself and others from the depths of despair that this illness brings.

The reality right at this moment in time is that I am not cured. I am doing a lot better. Because I am not fully recovered doesn’t mean that others can’t and it doesn’t mean that I will never be cured. But the reality remains; I am certainly not where I need to be. I still have a few more baby steps to make before I can walk. And that is REALITY; whether I like it or not. The reality is; this illness sucks!