About me

My name is Nic Danson and I have depression. It's taken me a long time to be able to say that in the same way as I would say "and I have green eyes" but that's how I feel about it. It's part of me, like it or lump it, you accept me, you accept that part of me. 

I first tried to kill myself when I was 17. I had failed my driving test for the third time and having never failed at anything before I didn't know how to cope. I took a knife and went to the field across the road from my house. Luckily (or unluckily) the knife was blunt and I only succeeded in making a hole in my jumper and so here I am still. (And I passed my test on the fourth attempt). Since then, when doctors have asked me if I think about suicide I look at them strangely "doesn't everyone?". It's only since I stopped thinking about it in the same way as what shoes to wear that I realise it's NOT normal to think like that. 

I hated university and the depression reared again. People think depression means being sad but it's not that at all. I could laugh and joke with my friends and I got through each day. I call it putting one foot in front of the other, because that's what it feels like - you get through, you exist. But I had a shopping addiction - I'd buy things that didn't even fit and put them at the back of the wardrobe and pretend they weren't there. I also spent a lot of time on my own. I developed what I called "the outside Nic" - she's happy and confident and talks a lot to everyone. But she's exhausting and after putting on the act for a while, I'd need a rest and that meant being by myself. 

Things got better and I carried on my merry way until I had my first baby. I'd gone from being busy and useful in work to being at home with only a baby for company and feeling useless. I managed to keep going until I went back to work and things got back to normal. Then I had my second child and this time the post natal depression was worse. Doctors offered me anti depressants but I didn't want to stop breast feeding because that would make me a failure as a mum (I now know you can breastfeed on anti depressants) so I tried the technique I know best - hiding it and putting on a show. I went back to work earlier - when the baby was 4 months old. 

I had to find new coping strategies - I couldn't spend much time on my own (with my own thoughts) so I'd take the train to meetings in Birmingham rather than drive. When I was in the car, I'd play inspirational songs to psych up to putting on "outside Nic". I just kept going, ignoring and hiding.

I then had a miscarriage. That was tough. I tried going back to work straight away to do what I knew best - acting. But I managed an hour before I had to go back to the doctors and get signed off sick. After a couple of weeks off. I went back and carried on. 

Ironically (as will become clear), my third baby is the only one I think I didn't have post natal depression with. I used to lie on the sofa with him and relish the feeling of the happy hormones flooding me. I can still remember it. It was bliss. 

Unfortunately, 2 years later was when the big blow came. In old fashioned terms I had a "nervous breakdown". I'd drive to work wishing I could lose control of the car so it would all be over. The inspirational car songs got louder and on constant repeat. My manager started to notice a change in the tone of my emails "it has been decided", instead of "I'm happy to announce" and called me into his office. I know I started crying. I can't remember what I said but I remember his face when I said I got post viral depression and hangover depression. To me - that was and still is, entirely normal. Everyone has up and down moods - mine are just more pronounced. And one of the benefits of depression is that I am more conscious of my own emotions. 

I put it down to stress - three children and a full time job. I'll be ok after a holiday. I looked into hypnotherapy to improve my confidence. I just needed to "pull myself together". People told me I should go part time - but I couldn't do my job part time and I had to be good at my job, that was what defined me. But then I couldn't eat. I slept all the time. Eventually I couldn't bring myself to drive to work anymore and I went to the doctors. 

That doctors appointment was awful. I felt like I was having to prove myself. She was obviously going through a checklist of depression - eating, sleeping, suicide, blah blah blah. But to me she didn't seem compassionate at all. At the end of her test, I must have passed because she said "I think you've got depression, I'll give you some anti depressants". I felt relieved but also a failure. Only people who can't cope take anti depressants. 

After a week or so on the anti depressants I felt worse. I had to grip the steering wheel of the car to stop myself from driving through the level crossing where I live. I'd drive to the shops and I had to force myself to turn left to go home instead of turning right to run away to "Home and Away" (the tv programme where everyone is happy and the sun always shines) (I still tell my kids I'm running away to Home and Away when they wind me up!) 

I went back to the doctors and she increased my dosage which seemed totally bizarre to me - surely if they were making me feel worse, they were no good? But she was right, I did start to feel better. 

I was off work for 3 months. The company did everything they were supposed to do. I was referred to occupational health and had to see a doctor. I sat outside the office psyching myself up for ages. But doctors do what doctors do in these situations - he basically asked me what I wanted him to write. I said I was fine and I was ready to go back to work. So he did. And I did. 

The company wanted something or someone to blame. I said I was finding it hard working with one particular manager so they decided I was being bullied by him and moved me to a different area. (They didn't think maybe I was finding it hard because I was ill?) I was given a job where I was away from everyone and worked on my own. I found it more and more hard to pick up the phone to ring people. Simple things felt like climbing Mount Everest. Eventually I was called in and started on a performance improvement plan. I felt sick. The only thing I'd ever been good at was working. Now I failed at that as well. I was useless. Eventually we (the company and I) agreed that I would leave with best wishes all round. I still miss that job. I still yearn for that person I was before (the breakdown). I still think Ill go back one day but in my heart I know I've changed, work has changed. And, if I'm honest, I can feel the anxiety ramp up as soon as I look at a job specification. If I go back to work (and I truly hope I do one day) it'll be somewhere different, somewhere less stressful. 

Since leaving work I've had my ups and downs but the "outside Nic" is more an exaggeration of myself rather than a totally different person. I still find her tiring but I can counter that by having less to do and planning quiet times. There's a theory about "spoons" (Spoon theory) which strikes a chord with me. My "to do" list may seem a bit pathetic to some people but I get by. 

Since leaving work I spend the majority of my time with the other mums in the school playground. When I tell them my story, they most often say "I've had depression" or "I take anti depressants". I think I've so far met 2 women who have had no experience of mental health problems (at least until now). So the 1 in 4 ratio (1 in 4 people have a mental health problem. (Office for National Statistics, Psychiatric Morbidity (2007) makes total sense to me (or is perhaps even a bit conservative). 

I'm a member of a couple of jewellery making groups and the number of women who also have depression or other mental health issues is incredible. And the symptoms are similar - a dislike of phones, an avoidance of leaving the house, putting on "outside people", lack of confidence often showing as aggression or over confidence, constantly over analysing what people said or mean. 

Now I read a status of Facebook or talk to a mum in the playgroup  and I can hear the depression symptoms emanating from them. It's so sad. I try to tell them - maybe you need to go and get some happy pills. They say "ill be ok after this week is over", "I just need a holiday", "I just wish my husband would help more". They are all excuses. They put their heads in the sand. Just the same as I used to. 

That's why I want to do this - talk about my own experience and take the stigma out of it. We all have mental health, just as we all have physical health. A cold = feeling blue, a broken leg = a bad marriage break up, diabetes = long term clinical depression. It shouldn't be shied away from. 

I'm a well educated woman. I have a degree in computer science and a post graduate diploma in human resources. I can turn my hand to most things and yet when an employer finds out about my mental health, it's "thanks but no thanks". The system isn't set up for people like me. I've known a number of women who have been de-listed from the post natal depression support because they haven't turned up for their appointments. Why? Because they couldn't bring themselves to get out of the car in the hospital car park, which is surely a symptom of the depression and they shouldn't be penalised for it. 

I can be a useful member of society. I'm a governor for both my children's schools - I'm currently vice chair of the primary school. I used to be the secretary of the PTA. I'm admin of a Facebook group. My opinion is asked for. I read current affairs and I'm interested in social policy and inclusion. I could run for government (if only I could face phoning about the application process and the stress of reading what is required!) 

Every 6 months or so the doctors want to "review" my anti-depressant prescription. They ask me "do you want to come off them yet?" I tell them, "I never ever want to be without them again". I feel normal on them. I feel abnormal without them. Don't judge me because I take them.