Depression is Expensive
Donation protected
The smile on my face in this photo was forced. I was battling major depression and PTSD when this picture was taken (and still am). I hadn't felt joy in a very long time.
When I was 6 years old, I told my mother about the molestation my paternal grandfather had been committing. She believed me but he was not only allowed to continue living with us, but neither she or my father ever confronted him about it. My grandmother was never told and there is no guarantee that it never happened again...I can't remember - I don't think my brain wants me to.
I don't know when that abuse started. I also don't know when my brother started beating on me but it was happening when I was very young. He is 6 years older than me and I was an easy target. There were times I was convinced he was about to kill me. I lived in fear constantly - never knowing what would set him off. I begged my parents to kick him out of the house...to do something, anything. They wouldn't.
I honestly believe that I would have survived the physical and sexual abuse with my mental health intact if I hadn't been neglected by my parents. I was blind to the extent of their neglect until this past year. I desperately needed to believe that someone loved me just to live through it all.
I believe the depression has always been just under the surface but this past year, as I finally got therapy and became aware of the impact of my parents' neglect, I went into the darkest hole I've ever been in. I constantly thought about killing myself. Deeply believing no one could ever love me and that the only way to end the pain and loneliness was to stop being alive. I was in a car accident exactly two weeks after my father's death in December. I suffered minor whiplash and bruises but my car was totaled and the culmination of all of the emotional hits finally broke me. I made a plan to kill myself but had to wait for the weekend to be over so someone would notice when I didn't show up to work. My dog and cat would need to be taken care of and I didn't want them to suffer until someone found my body. In that time, I decided to call my therapist. She convinced me to wait and we had an emergency session. She convinced me to go to the emergency room to seek anti-depressants (we'd been trying to find a psychiatrist to work with but it was a nightmare...very few call backs and those that did weren't taking new patients or charged far more than I could afford and didn't accept my insurance). While in the ER, the psychiatrist who met with me for all of 5 minutes decided that I needed to be committed - despite my therapist's (who I'd been seeing for 7+ months by that point) strong belief that we had a good care plan and I just needed medication. He refused to speak with her so I spent the next 4 days in a mental hospital against my will. It was awful - terrifying, dis-empowering, and yet another time when an authority figure I had come to for help chose not to listen to me and further my trauma instead.
I was so depressed that getting out of bed to take care of my pets was the best I could do most days. Luckily, I have an amazingly understanding and supportive boss so I didn't lose my job (I absolutely would have anywhere else) but we're a tiny 6-person operation (at that time, it was just 4 of us) so I have no benefits - no paid time off. I was rapidly going through my savings just to stay afloat.
Luckily, I had a breakthrough in March and am feeling like I'm coming out of the darkness but I'm now deeply in debt. My mortgage is 2 months behind, I haven't been able to pay my medical bills from the hospitalization, I'm deep in credit card debt, my dog needs to go to the vet but I can't afford to take her, I can't afford my health insurance so I'm worried I won't be able to keep up with therapy. I fought really hard through a lot of darkness to not feel worthless but those feelings are creeping back up.
So I am swallowing my pride and asking for help. Because half an hour ago I was writing goodbye letters to the important people in my life in preparation for my suicide (please don't panic - this is me wanting to live, fighting to live). I have worked too hard on my mental health to let financial ruin kill me. I want to find a reason to hope for better days to come and I need your support to get there. I would deeply, deeply appreciate anything you could give.
Jen
When I was 6 years old, I told my mother about the molestation my paternal grandfather had been committing. She believed me but he was not only allowed to continue living with us, but neither she or my father ever confronted him about it. My grandmother was never told and there is no guarantee that it never happened again...I can't remember - I don't think my brain wants me to.
I don't know when that abuse started. I also don't know when my brother started beating on me but it was happening when I was very young. He is 6 years older than me and I was an easy target. There were times I was convinced he was about to kill me. I lived in fear constantly - never knowing what would set him off. I begged my parents to kick him out of the house...to do something, anything. They wouldn't.
I honestly believe that I would have survived the physical and sexual abuse with my mental health intact if I hadn't been neglected by my parents. I was blind to the extent of their neglect until this past year. I desperately needed to believe that someone loved me just to live through it all.
I believe the depression has always been just under the surface but this past year, as I finally got therapy and became aware of the impact of my parents' neglect, I went into the darkest hole I've ever been in. I constantly thought about killing myself. Deeply believing no one could ever love me and that the only way to end the pain and loneliness was to stop being alive. I was in a car accident exactly two weeks after my father's death in December. I suffered minor whiplash and bruises but my car was totaled and the culmination of all of the emotional hits finally broke me. I made a plan to kill myself but had to wait for the weekend to be over so someone would notice when I didn't show up to work. My dog and cat would need to be taken care of and I didn't want them to suffer until someone found my body. In that time, I decided to call my therapist. She convinced me to wait and we had an emergency session. She convinced me to go to the emergency room to seek anti-depressants (we'd been trying to find a psychiatrist to work with but it was a nightmare...very few call backs and those that did weren't taking new patients or charged far more than I could afford and didn't accept my insurance). While in the ER, the psychiatrist who met with me for all of 5 minutes decided that I needed to be committed - despite my therapist's (who I'd been seeing for 7+ months by that point) strong belief that we had a good care plan and I just needed medication. He refused to speak with her so I spent the next 4 days in a mental hospital against my will. It was awful - terrifying, dis-empowering, and yet another time when an authority figure I had come to for help chose not to listen to me and further my trauma instead.
I was so depressed that getting out of bed to take care of my pets was the best I could do most days. Luckily, I have an amazingly understanding and supportive boss so I didn't lose my job (I absolutely would have anywhere else) but we're a tiny 6-person operation (at that time, it was just 4 of us) so I have no benefits - no paid time off. I was rapidly going through my savings just to stay afloat.
Luckily, I had a breakthrough in March and am feeling like I'm coming out of the darkness but I'm now deeply in debt. My mortgage is 2 months behind, I haven't been able to pay my medical bills from the hospitalization, I'm deep in credit card debt, my dog needs to go to the vet but I can't afford to take her, I can't afford my health insurance so I'm worried I won't be able to keep up with therapy. I fought really hard through a lot of darkness to not feel worthless but those feelings are creeping back up.
So I am swallowing my pride and asking for help. Because half an hour ago I was writing goodbye letters to the important people in my life in preparation for my suicide (please don't panic - this is me wanting to live, fighting to live). I have worked too hard on my mental health to let financial ruin kill me. I want to find a reason to hope for better days to come and I need your support to get there. I would deeply, deeply appreciate anything you could give.
Jen
Organizer
Jennifer Coburn
Organizer
Lancaster, MA