I Avoided Antidepressants For a Long While — But They Helped Me When I Needed Them Most

Last year I desperately wanted to be one of those people on Instagram baking banana bread or finding my hidden talent. Believe me, I tried. The problem though, was that baking my way out of the state of being I had talked myself into was easier said than done. When the first lockdown started, the more productive I tried to be, the worse I felt. It was like trying to push a square peg through a round hole. All of the should’s that had consumed me for so long…

You should wake up and go for a run.

You should go to the grocery store and buy fresh produce for dinner.

You should lose some weight.

You should finish that email tonight.

You should be eating better than this.

You should open your dating app.

You should post something on social media so everyone can see you have it all together…

…all of a sudden became I don’t want to. All of a sudden I didn’t care. The should’s caught up to me.

Never in a million years did I classify myself as depressed. I didn’t even know what the word meant. I used to think of depression as being in bed for days, unable to peel one’s self out of the sheets. Or having zero desire to leave one’s apartment unless a friend was to arrive at the door. For some, that’s the way the story goes. But for me, the onset of depression was gradual.

About 10 years ago, I landed a job that fell out of the sky. I returned home after a stint living in the UK, Sydney was jobless thanks to the GFC and it so happened that a former contact and then PR queen was looking for a new publicist. I had no experience but she asked me in for an interview and within a day I had a job. From that point on I decided to throw myself into the deep end. I surrendered myself to hard work, late nights and the kind of responsibility that meant being glued to my BlackBerry. My boss was a hardworking maven who very quickly instilled a robust work ethic in me; the kind that people expected when they sought out working with our agency.

For a long time, I was caught up in the glitz. I felt so important…meeting celebrities, flying to New York, liaising with big clients — the responsibility was addictive and my role really mattered. I was good at the job and I really enjoyed the feeling of kicking goals. The working conditions weren’t ideal at times but never in a million years did I dream of giving up that job even when it got really darn tough. This job was the start of a PR journey that over 10 years was incredibly fun at times, very taxing at others. I’d need to write a book to sum it all up (stay tuned for that!). Looking back it’s almost like I had this new attitude built into me that work always came first.

Over the years I went on and worked in several places, moving up the ranks in the PR world until about three years ago decided to branch out and start my own business. I teamed up with a good pal of mine to start an agency and went on to work in an office with a bunch of amazing people. The new agency flourished quite quickly and we were busy running events, going to meetings and signing new clients.

Our events were good! I was proud — still am. But somewhere along the line, I lost something. It’s not like I woke up one day and felt sad, but over the course of a couple of weeks (can’t really put my finger on when), I was beginning to lose my grip. The grip was a mixture of what used to be excitement, stress (is there a good kind?), planning, associating, liaising…being all that a publicist was. It was becoming an effort. Not the kind of rewarding effort that goes away when a project or job is done, but the effort that involved me actually getting to the office.

I had a short attention span in situations that I never had before and this made me squirm. Though, the way I was taught from that first PR job… smile through it all, keep your head held high, keep on going! So I did. The environment around me was amazing, the environment within? Lost, sad, without. The idea that I was depressed simply didn’t cross my mind, I just kept telling myself it was a lull and that I’d snap out of it. After all, how could I be depressed with the wonderful job I had! And the friends I had!

Last year, during lockdown, was the first time I actually stopped, and my emotions took over. It took the world to stop for me to realise that I had been running on empty for quite some time. I was just too ashamed to give it a name. As I look back now, I was in a state of high functioning depression. But because I didn’t understand depression, I didn’t know it.

Dr Peter Baldwin, a clinician psychologist and clinical research fellow at the Black Dog Institute says depression can manifest in all sorts of ways. “Depression can have confusing effects on our bodies. People with depression might feel much more tired than usual, but also feel unable to sleep.

“They can also find themselves sleeping a great deal more or less than we are used to. Some people with depression notice their appetite increases one day, but disappears entirely at other times. One very upsetting part of depression is not being able to feel the emotions you normally feel, so those warm feelings we have for our loved ones can suddenly disappear and depressed people often worry that positive feelings will never return.”

This is how I felt. I was too busy wearing burnout like a badge of honour that I was in denial about the real emotions!

Thing is, the body will eventually give in.

I finally stopped trying to keep up. For about six months I felt like I was in quicksand…I cried a lot, questioned everything and couldn’t do much.

I still resisted the idea that I might be depressed. It wasn’t until my brother intervened and in his own sweet and subtle way gave me no choice other than to talk to someone about it. The reason I had avoided this is because I knew what the answer would most likely be. Antidepressants; or in other words, something that was not even an option. Why? Because of all the things I’d heard, because of the association to shame, because I didn’t want to feel weak that I had lost control of my grip.

I resisted for as long as I could until the vicious cycle of hopelessness nearly swallowed me up whole. I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel. It just wasn’t there.

At that point, I didn’t have a choice and went to see my doctor with a lot of hesitation. She gave me a script for Lexapro and I started at a really low dose (after a week of staring at them on my desk) and promised my family that I would be consistent for at least the amount of time it took to start having an effect. About eight weeks in, I was still crying a lot but my thoughts started to release themselves.

All the things I had been telling myself were becoming slightly distant; they were still there but I could not hear them as loud. After that, day by day I started picking myself up again; occasionally I laughed at something. During this time I made the big decision to leave behind a career that held me up for so long. What an incredible time that was, but I decided it was time for something new. I felt a sort of melancholy with the disassociation of myself to the word ‘publicist’…even though it would always be part of me, but I was OK with that.

Dr Baldwin says that “Antidepressants play a vital role in mental healthcare. In a mental health crisis when someone’s mood is severely low, medication can be a great support as part of their journey back to good health. Medications aren’t a silver bullet and won’t be suitable for every mental health crisis, but when taken as directed under the care of a doctor like a GP or a psychiatrist, they can be life-changing. People should have no hesitation discussing medication with their GP. Don’t be put off by stigma. Giving your brain what it needs when it needs it is just good health management.”

Perhaps antidepressants are not for everyone and that is OK! But the shame I felt about being honest with myself about what I needed at the time was incomparable to the fact that they saved me; got me strong enough to be able to stand up on my own two feet and there is absolutely no shame in that!

If there is one thing I learnt in the past year it’s that you have to do what is right for you, at the right time. A few days ago I made banana bread. Not because everyone else was doing it, because I wanted to. And it was delicious!

If you are concerned about your mental health please reach out to a medical professional for a tailored mental health plan.

If you or anyone you know is struggling and needs support, call Kids Helpline on 1800 55 1800 or Lifeline on 13 11 14, both of which provide trained counsellors you can talk with 24/7. You can also speak with someone confidentially at Headspace by calling 1800 650 890 or chat online here. If you are in immediate danger, call 000.