Anon Guest Post: Male Depression Perspective

Is it better to be naturally happy, or to achieve happiness in through overcoming life's
hardships?

Depression is a term I'm sick of hearing. A predefined set of criteria which lumps you in a
category. A label that's comfortably thrown around.

I, like many, have had my own journey through such a disarray.  This journey plagued me with
the question, why am I feeling this way? The fragility of porcelain isn't a feebleness, but a
fineness. We know that if we don't care for such things, they could shatter and cut us, yet we
are not as astute when it comes to our own minds.

I come from what most would consider a healthy, stable environment; a model family. Two
supportive parents, with a generally harmonious marriage, passionate, affluent through their
own hard work. My parents taught my sister and I how to carry ourselves in this world, through
structure, discipline, education, and arguably most importantly, love. They consistently pushed
to achieve highly, and provided a nurturing, positive environment.

It brings me back to questioning myself, why am I feeling this way? Why aren't I enjoying
things? Why can't I sleep?
Often when I have felt low, the guilt, and confusion have been the most overwhelming
fragments. I have lived a somewhat perfect life compared to people who live with actual
hardships.

My thoughts and feelings slowly changed who I was. I was once the outspoken loudmouth, the
class clown. Always joking around and high spirited. Progressively this changed. It was a slow,
prolonged adjustment to the way I lived my life. Without knowing, I let it increasingly dictate my
actions. I stopped getting out of my comfort zone. The things I used to enjoy become more of a
chore. Worst of all however was Iet it affect not only me, but my relationships with those closest
to me.

Ultimately the person I had become was not the person my partner fell in love with. It was a
direct contributor to our relationship failing, something I found difficult to rationalise in my head
at the time. I quickly hit my personal rock bottom. She moved on quickly, whilst I felt forsaken
and alone. I had supportive friends and family around me, but it was the figurative nail in the
coffin of my head. I wasn't functioning anymore. I couldn't sleep, I didn't have the appetite to eat.
I couldn't stand being alone, yet when I was with others it was worse.

This went on for while and eventually came to a point. One night as I was sitting around I
thought, fuck this. I grabbed the codeine from my drawers and took what was left. It didn't take
long to come back up. Whether my body genuinely rejected it, or subconsciously I knew better,
who knows. I spent the rest of that night feeling pretty ashamed of myself. I felt embarrassed
and guilty for almost putting the people who care about me through that.
I'm not stupid. At this point I knew things had to be addressed.  So I rather sheepishly decided
to visit my GP and lay out everything that had happened. Que the standard questions;
How often do you feel down, hopeless, anxious?
Do you look forward to things?
Have you had any suicidal thoughts?
How is your energy?
How is your sleep?

My GP told me I was depressed. He assured me it is extremely common, even revealing my
father is in the same boat (he treats us both). He set me on an immediate course of SSRI's, and
set me on my way. I left feeling rather indifferent to the whole process. I, like many people,
carried a stigma about being "depressed". I categorised people in my same socioeconomic
background being depressed, mainly as their choice. I felt like people abused the term, using it
to justify self indulgent behaviour they deep down knew was detrimental to their mental
wellbeing. Obviously I was wrong, but I was terrified about the premise of being one of those
people. I didn't want to get worse and just say, oh well, its because I'm depressed.

Taking pills felt like a bandaid to me. Obviously for many people they are hugely beneficial to
living a healthier life and getting on top of things. Initially however, I didn't want to just take
something and pretend like the problems weren't still prevalent. I was anxious about not fixing
the underlying issues, and falling back into old habits upon coming off the treatment.

I confided in a couple of close friends and made the decision to try counselling. For me, this was
both a hugely beneficial, and equally eye opening. It wasn't like speaking to people I knew, this
person was completely neutral, I didn't feel like the broken record I knew I was to my friends and
family. Still, in reality I felt like a fool, like I had no genuine reason to be there. I appeared to be
pretty transparent to him. Events and emotions I struggled to process in my head appeared so
straightforward to apprehend by him. Im the most diplomatic way possible he pointed out my
own shortcomings in acting out behaviour that I openly knew was bad for mental standing. I
spent a little over three months going back, trying to get small wins, catch low hanging fruit to
bring me to a better understand of myself, controlling my emotions, and anxiety. Looking back,
the strategies I learnt were imperative to aiding me to where I am today, but ultimately, the
counselling alone wasn't enough to keep me on the right track. I maintained a healthier lifestyle,
but I often slipped back into old habits, especially in relationships. I didn't feel like I was
progressing, I had plateaued halfway to happiness. I didn't understand how I was doing
everything I was supposed to, and I still felt so underwhelmed with my life.

Okay then. Pills. No biggy right? Just a helping hand. One a day everyday.
This went on for a while. Initially I couldn't sleep, and I was skeptical about the effectiveness
they could provide. To their credit, they did help. Slowly I did feel happier, at least to the point
where I found the motivation to start making more of life in terms of achieving natural highs;
trying new things, getting plenty of exercise, healthy eating, getting more sleep. There is two
sides to a coin however. I felt desensitised. Its hard to rationalise if being a degree happier was
worth feeling so apathetic about everything else. Additionally I had a very diminished libido. As a
guy, this can make you feel like you're not a real man anymore. It has been almost two years
now I have been medicating myself. I have changed prescriptions twice, altered dosages, gotten
frustrated, coming on and off the course.

Medicating depression and anxiety is a trade off. The benefits and side effects must be carefully
weighed up, and they are certainly not a fix-all wonder cure. Still, we live in a country where one
in nine people take anti-depressants, with prescription rates having grown almost 40% in the
past five years. At what point will adequate psychological care become more accessible and
thoroughly provide through our health system as opposed to the quick fix of drugs? A
moderated system providing a combination treatment of both medication and talk therapies.
Personally, I still take half a dose every other day; progress from one viewpoint, dependency
from another. In saying this, my life is more on track. I'm happier, am in a loving relationship,
and most importantly, I am considerably more self aware about how to stay on top of my own
head. I feel like I'm emerging out the other side, hopefully to stay. To quote Primo Levi; "I also
know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong, but to feel strong", something I'm
sure many struggling with mental illness could relate to.