Eye Witness

Voices from Hell

By Helen Brake
As I grated the sandpaper across my face, the skin rubbed away but didn’t bleed as I expected.
Gooey plasma softened the paper’s rigid surface. I picked another piece and tried again, over the weeping skin. This time I got blood and was satisfied that if I explained that my face was the result of tripping up the stairs I could remain in the house for a few more days.
I went inside and tried my hardest to remove all thoughts from my mind.

Three weeks later I was diagnosed with a major depressive disorder.

It’s a selfish illness – the desire to reverse your existence. However, in recent months my GP has found me medication that has been effective and I am returning to a feeling, whole human.

Earlier this year, after a lousy day, I recognised I was both bored and frustrated – and went a little mad with happiness. It had been almost three years since I had not regularly feigned emotions.

Since becoming well, it has been difficult to describe what it was like living with depression.To get some distance and so to better articulate what it can be like, I asked a friend if he would allow me to share his story.

I remember meeting Mathieu more than ten years ago on a youth group activity that involved catching a train to the CBD. He was miming a lawn sprinkler break-dance while moving up the carriage walkway. He encouraged other passengers to suggest different moves or join in themselves.

His lanky, uncoordinated but enthusiastic efforts were too funny to ignore and broke the no-talk-ing-listening-or-acknowledging-others-on-public¬transport norm.

Strangers, other youth members and I exchanged grins. In short, Mathieu isn’t someone you forget. Spending time with him makes you feel that the world holds colours you never dreamt existed
– together you have stepped from a water-colour world to one of vivid oils and charcoal.
 

Until recently, I knew very little of his struggles. I knew he was sometimes moody, and he would frustrate me by disappearing out of my life for a few months, then popping up again as if nothing had happened.

Mathieu was bullied throughout primary school for being dramatic and ‘different’. It was something of a surprise when, at high school, this ‘difference’ was not only tolerated, but gave him a counter-mainstream popularity among other kids who didn’t fit in.

However, from year ten onwards he struggled with thoughts of purging his mind and body.After absently-minded writing some poetry on an exam paper a couple of months before graduation, his teacher contacted his mother and suggested he see a psychiatrist immediately, as his teacher was wor-ried Mathieu was going to kill himself.

He began listening to heavy

techno music and binge drinking

Mathieu was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and anxiety disabilities, and began taking medication. Six months later, wanting to be free from medical ‘control’, Mathieu stopped taking his antidepressants.

He began listening to heavy techno music and binge drinking. He would stay awake as long as he could, because every time he awoke it was to the despondency of still existing.

During periods when he felt well, he would find work. However, shortly after starting a new job he would usually experience a panic attack, and the humiliation of explaining to an employer why he couldn’t work but had to leave immediately meant he sometimes left without explanation and didn’t return.
One year he decided to get a tattoo, and when his depression was thickest, he would ask his tattoo¬ist to work on the skin closest to the bones in his hands so the pain might distract him.
 
Several months ago, when looking through his father’s office for a DVD he had misplaced, Mathieu found antidepressants prescribed to his Dad.

Hurt that he never knew his father also suf¬fered from depression, he confronted his mother. She told him yes; both his father and grandfather experienced chronic major depression but she had felt it was his father’s decision whether to share this with Mathieu.

Mathieu and his father still haven’t spoken about their experiences.

What example do they have when their thoughts and emotions are so far from the stereotypically laconic and relaxed Aussie blokes’?

Mathieu has been determined to break his cycle of short-term employment. When he began his most recent job, Mathieu was open with his boss and let him know he may sometimes need to leave work suddenly, or arrive late. Since then, his boss has been supportive, has recognised Mathieu’s many talents, and now wants him to stay beyond his six month contract.

consequences will be perpetuated

through future generations.

At the moment, Mathieu is well and cautiously optimistic. He describes us both as ‘sober depressives’. He is well now – and hopefully for a long time – but could become sick again. Mathieu wants a family, but fears how his illness may affect his future wife and kids if he is unwell for long periods.
I share this concern, especially for my one-day husband. What may I put him through when I’m unwell? Will I block him out like I recently did with those I love? How badly will I hurt him, and possibly our kids?

Although these are issues to consider, I continue to hope and work towards a strong marriage and wonderful family. I believe this is more likely to happen if we who suffer from depression share our experiences.

By the very irrationality of the thoughts it pro-duces, it can be overwhelmingly difficult to even attempt explaining this part of yourself to someone who has never experienced a mental illness.

However, it is important to continue trying to remove the stigma that surrounds mental illness – otherwise, many men and women with major depression will continue keeping quiet and allow¬ing their behaviour to be interpreted as slackness, unreliability or laziness, and the consequences will be perpetuated through future generations.

Helen Brake is studying English Literature at the University of Queensland. She spent four months teaching English in south-west China, and meets students from other countries at a volunteer-run, conversational English class in inner-Brisbane. This article was first published in the online magazine Eureka Street in September.