New to this board. I decided to join after reading some of the stories concerning other posters battles with depression.
I have been dealing with depression for as long as I can remember. I am at a point in my life now where I feel as though no matter what I do, this will be a battle I will never win. It has now become an exercise in futility.
Here is my story...my life in a nutshell...and some of the things that I think have contributed to my depression.
When I was six years old my mother and father decided to separate, which was the best thing to do as all they did was fight. My father was a heroin addict, my mother an alcoholic and it wasn't the best environment for a child to be raised. I moved in with my grandmother shortly after my parents separated and when I was eight years old, my dad finally decided to get clean. Living with my grandma and having my dad get sober were positive things in my life at the time...just about the only positive things.
My grandma and grandpa on my mom's side were both alcoholics, along with the rest of my mom's siblings, whom were also drug addicts. My mom was one of five children. There was my uncle J...aunt R and D (whom were twins) and my aunt C. My aunt D committed suicide, which was very hard for my mom and her other siblings to deal with.
Anyway, we were quite the dysfunctional family. A typical holiday gathering consisted of everyone getting drunk and fighting, and the police would show up by the end of the night. My family was well known for these types of disturbances. One year, when my grandma and grandpa got into a fight, my grandpa tried to leave, and my grandma was so mad off she ran outside after him and shot him in the leg. Yes...this is the type of things that happened in my family. They would rob and steal, even from one another, and their own family members and children to get what they wanted.
My dad did the right thing and straightened his life out, and his mother...my grandma that I lived with was a good woman. Her husband had died before I was born, so it was just her. Her and my dad did the best they could trying to raise me, but I still had to deal with the rest of my family, especially my alcoholic mother who later became addicted to crack/cocaine.
And it continued. Disappointment after disappointment in dealing with my mom. Going from my grandma's to my dad's house and visiting with mom n occasion when I could. Most of the time she was drunk or high. She would have a tall glass of vodka and OJ in the mornings with breakfast and drink the rest of the day.
I had always been a good student in grade school but when I got to high school that changed. I was depressed and just didn't care anymore. I started following in the footsteps of my family. I would drink all the time...didn't care about school, or much else either for that matter. My aunt had showed me ways to get over on people...my mom bought alcohol for me and my friends, and we would get all get drunk together. Her apartment was the place to be. Anytime we wanted a place to go, we could go to her place or my aunts.
Anyway, despite my not putting much effort into it, I graduated with honors and went onto college...the first in my family to do so. I screwed that up though, and failed out after 2 years. This contributed even more to my depression.
I ended up getting pregnant at 21 and decided to marry the guy but he was an alcoholic and drug addict as well. I had a very difficult pregnancy and child birth and my son was 2 months premature. Going through these difficulties and almost losing my son, did something to me. It changed me.
I didn't want to end up like my mother and I didn't want my son to grow up in the type of environment that I grew up in. I had been in the hospital for 6 weeks and not so much as a phone call from my mom. My dad and grandma did come to visit though. But my mom? No one even knew where she was. Could've been dead for all I knew. My husband at the time...my son's father only visited me three times throughout that 6 week time span.
I brought my son home the night before Thanksgiving that year, and his father just never showed up. It was then that I knew I was going to just leave him and start over. I needed to change my life because I wasn't going to put my son through the hell that I went through.
My mom did end up calling me about a week later, coming off a crack binge. The only thing I said when I got on the phone after hearing all of her excuses was to drop dead. I then hung up. That was 10 years ago. My son is now 10 years old and my mom has 10 years clean.
I like to think that my son had something to do with her getting clean, but I don't really know. I don't think she even knows what motivated her finally. She was never able to do it in the past.
Anyway...I am now 32 years old. I have changed my life dramatically compared to what it was just 10-15 years ago. The one thing I cannot beat though is my battle with depression.
Last edited by Administrator; 08-09-2012 at 10:42 AM.