Living With Dementors
Living with depression is not easy. Whether you or someone you love suffers from it, depression can be a difficult thing to live with. But it’s not the end of the world either. Believe me, I should know.
It’s a bit of a long and personal blog, but my main intention is to help others understand that there are many people that suffer from depression, and they are not alone. And even though it can be a hard thing to deal with, it’s not impossible. It isn’t something to be embarrassed about either.
When I was 18 years old, my school’s psychologist diagnosed me with clinical depression. For a few months, I refused to go back to see him and get help even though I could feel myself falling deeper into a big black whole from which I saw no way out. I did not tell friends how I felt for a while, and I started drinking to help myself. Not the smartest move seeing how: 1. I was under the legal drinking age & 2. Alcohol is a depressant.
When I read Order of the Phoenix, I could relate to Winky more than I like to admit—she was going through a rough time having been taken out of the environment she knew and was accustomed to. I had just moved away from home and was on my own for the very first time. I, like Winky, had a difficult time adjusting, and on top of everything else I was beginning to find out things about myself that confused me (gender identity and sexuality were on the top of the list).
Part of the reason I was so hesitant to get help was because I grew up with misconceptions regarding what it meant to be depressed. Friends and family spoke to me and told me that I had the power to snap out of it on my own, and that I did not need medication or a therapist. At times, I felt as though they thought being sad was something I enjoyed.
I had heard my family tell the same things to one of my cousins who was always down, never wanted to do anything but lay on her bed in the dark. They always told her to think positive, and stop being such a pessimistic person. They told her she was not trying to get better, therefore she was just getting worse. I was too young to comprehend what was going on with her, but I took my family’s advise to her at face value so when I felt the same way, I thought I could (and should) deal with it on my own.
Finally after realizing I could not ’snap out of it,’ I decided to pay a visit to a psychiatrist and a psychologist.
After years of therapy and more medications than I can remember, I think I’ve got it under control. I sometimes feel as though I’m slipping back into it, but then I talk. I talk to my partner or to my sister or a close friend. I’m way past the point where I was ashamed of my depression. I now know that it’s not something I can help.
But depression not only affects those who have it. It also affects those around us, perhaps in more subtle ways. Having lived through depression myself, I can understand a bit more what my partner is going through sometimes. I know that if he’s silent, it’s not because I did something wrong. I know that if he cries, the best I can do is hold him and tell him I love him. It might not seem like much, but I know it helps at least a little.
However, there are times when I don’t know what to do. The agonizing silences full of questions I can not ask for fear of making it worse, the tears I swallow to avoid upsetting him more, and the worry that instead of getting better, he’s just slipping away from me. A few days ago, I realized I was getting back into the old pattern of hiding things because I don’t want to hurt people. I was reasoning with myself that it was better this way.
Well, it’s not. Being depressed or having someone you love be depressed is not something to hide. The best thing to do is find someone you trust and open up with them because just keeping things inside will not make them go away.
We both have found help, and hopefully we will get better. Seeing a therapist is not necessarily a bad thing. It does not mean we are crazy. It does not mean I’m weak or dumb or have no will to get better.
I just happen to be living in my personal Tita-sized Azkaban, with a few more dementors than I can handle on my own. All I need is a skilled DADA teacher, a few chocolate covered frogs, and my Patronus… Let me get those, and we’ll talk again in a few weeks.
Tita
Posted in Harry Potter Alliance
February 4th, 2009 at 12:11 pm
Tita,
I want to thank you for sharing your story. I know from personal experience how hard it is to share these things openly. I, too, fight depression on a daily basis. I’m actually Bipolar. I also am a rapid cycler, which means I can go through a full cycle of depression to mania and back within 24 hours (sometimes more often!).
I fought going to a psychiatrist or counselor for my entire life. Finally, in 2007 I was forced to go because my GP wouldn’t prescribe my meds until I did. I don’t know why I was so stupid for so long! It’s wonderful to be able to talk to someone that doesn’t have an emotional tie to an issue. If my family or friends or work is causing me grief, she is able to step back and ask that one question (why?) that seems to snap me out of it and make me look at it differently.
I wish more people could be open like you and me. People don’t talk about mental illness because of the stigma and yet by not talking about it the stigma is only increased. I don’t go around broadcasting my BP issues, but if it comes up in conversation (often the wacky things I did when I was younger) then I tell them.
To me, it can be paralled to the use of Voldemort’s name. Fear of the name only increases that fear.
Thank you again.
February 5th, 2009 at 11:20 am
Thank you both for sharing your experiences.
February 5th, 2009 at 5:30 pm
Thank you for this Tita and Arletta.
February 5th, 2009 at 5:36 pm
Yes, thank you Tita and Arletta! It means a lot.
February 5th, 2009 at 7:01 pm
Thanks for sharing. I can really relate to the part of depression affecting those around you. When I was in one of my bouts, nobody could talk to me. I would just get so angry and sometimes I still do. Even when my mom is doing something nice for me, there are times when I am just so depressed, I can’t stand her or her kindness. It makes me feel even worse.
I really hope that your story can touch people like it has for me. Tita, you’re awesome and thank you!
February 5th, 2009 at 7:39 pm
Thank you for sharing your story, Tita. And thank you too, Arletta.
I’ve been struggling a bit with depression this year myself; most times I feel like I can’t tell my friends about it because there is no overt reason for me to be depressed. Other times, I can’t tell them because every time I start talking about it I start crying in earnest, which makes it difficult to talk. My bouts of depression don’t last longer than a week, so for now, I’m trying to get myself through it, if it gets worse I’ll definitely seek help.
February 6th, 2009 at 9:54 am
Molly, why wait until it gets worse? I did, and (at least for me) it did not work at all. I got to such low points that I honestly did not want to keep going. My story gets really bad, so my advise would be to not let yourself get worse. But I know that’s a very personal decision to make.
Emeline, I totally understand how you feel about your mom, it’s like a catch 22.
February 6th, 2009 at 11:52 am
Molly, I agree with Tita. It’s better to cut it off at the pass. The problem is that you never know what the “worse” will be. I’ve seen mine and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
Emeline, I can understand this too. It used to be (and sometime still is, though rare) that I felt I didn’t deserve their help and that they were just wasting their time.
February 7th, 2009 at 5:00 pm
Thanks for sharing, Tita. I know where you’re coming from. Depression runs in my family. I’ve battled those dementors more than once, and was on meds for awhile when it was really bad. I’m currently doing OK, but I frequently find myself wondering how much longer I have before something happens and I slide back into it. It’s sort of scary.
June 1st, 2009 at 3:54 pm
Thanks for all these shares, I have suffered from depression off and on for many years. I self medicated with alcohol (WInky!) and of course that made everything worse.. Finally I admitted my alcoholism, got help, got some medication which helps me quite a bit, anxiety is one of my big dementors. I am so glad everytime when I do get a chance to share and hear other shares on the subject. Yes, it used to be no one would talk about this..mental illness runs in my family..but it was only talked about in whispers, and no one got help for it..
June 16th, 2009 at 6:33 pm
i myself am struggleing with cutting. it is tough for me to see that when people ask me “if i want to talk about it” that they are concerned and want to help. in my mind it seeems as though they want to ridicule me but slowly i am begining to see how much people care. my dementor may have left a mark on me but i have not suffered the dementors kiss yet. i am still alive to laugh with my friends and see the beuty in the world even if it is hard to do so.
thank you for sharing your stories. it helps me to see that i am not alone and that it is possible to escape from these dementors.
i am still alive and i will continue to live.
June 27th, 2009 at 10:22 pm
My best friend had the misfortune of being given the Dementor’s Kiss in a way more literal than should be possible. He has struggled with severe depression his whole life, and when he joined the armed forces, it seemed to stave off a bit. But when he was shipped off, he was ordered to do things that I will never know for sure, but let’s just say that killing his fellow man was the least objectionable thing he was forced to do. He had always had a strong sense of right and wrong, but I think he followed the orders because he was still clinging to that small lack of depression that he had felt at training. He wanted to keep that feeling.
But he was eventually given an honorable discharge after being shot in the forearm, and he collapsed into a state of both depression and compounding guilt. I took him out to dinner two years ago, and he just sat there, only answering questions minimally, and eating emptily. He would not look me in the eye, and would not engage me in conversation. He couldn’t take medication for the doctors’ fear of any possible adverse reaction sending him into either a permanent mania or a coma. Not that I think he would have done so anyway. He was too much of a shell.
About a year ago, I began reading to him. I started with Harry Potter, and he seemed to react to it. When I got to the description of a Dementor’s effect on a person, he gasped, the first sound he had let out without prompt since he had come home. I asked him why, and he said, “That’s how I feel.” It hurt to hear, and I almost cried, but he said before I could, “can the person in the book make it go away?” So I continued reading. When I read the part where Harry casts the patronus across the lake to save himself from the Dementors, I looked over to see him smile for the first time I had ever seen. He was crying, whispering, “I knew it. I knew it!” We finished reading the series after a month, and we proceeded to read through Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of the Rings in the next two months. He then requested that we read something longer. The only thing I could think of was the Bible. Now those who don’t believe in the truth behind the Bible, don’t feel upset. Take note of the books we had read before that. All fiction. Lots of truth there. The only reason I decided on the bible was because it was the only thing I could think of that was longer than all those other books.
But he started reading it on his own after a while, actually taking notes and leaving bookmarks. He began smiling regularly, and he now takes ME out to dinner sometimes, and I must say, that smile makes him quite handsome. He has gone through three different sizes of Bible and now has one he made himself to leave more room for notes, and that one’s already chuck full of notes and worn out. He’s only had it for about seven weeks, too! He has done the same damage to JRR Tolkien and JK Rowling’s works, and I must say he has become quite the literary enthusiast.
I once thought that my (boy-)friend [:)] was going to die of anguish, but he is now more generally happy than myself. Harry Potter saved his life, and I am eternally grateful.
July 20th, 2009 at 10:32 am
thank u all for sharing, it takes real courage to open up, gryffindor would be proud!
These dementors have affected both family and friends of mine. I myself dealt with OCD in my childhood, and I remember feeling like something was really wrong with me when I was to see a therapist for the first time. But through the help and understanding of a family support group, and the option to open up to a counselor removed from the situation, I no longer have OCD at all, and have my anxiety mostly under control. My experience have taught me how mental illness doesn’t mean weakness, and that opening up is about one of the bravest and often most challenging things to do. I admire all of you for your strength.
As I have learnt, is that mental illness is very common, and not something to be ashamed of.
One thing that really touched me at a stressful time in my life, when i was very worried about a friend admitted into a psychiatric ward, was reading the “order of the phoenix”, when Harry, Ron and Hermione see Neville visiting his parents in the psychiatric ward at st mungos. I remember how Nevile’s grandmother’s courage in discussing the mental illness plaguing her son and daughter in law. And how she was unashamed of their condition.
September 24th, 2009 at 9:58 pm
“All I need is a skilled DADA teacher, a few chocolate covered frogs, and my Patronus… Let me get those, and we’ll talk again in a few weeks.”
That’s perfect.
Rowling knew what she was doing when she designed dementors.
It’s been a few weeks–I hope you’re doing better…Duno if you’ll read this so far out.