Nicola's story

I became depressed a couple of months after my 17th birthday. I had just started my final year of A Levels (the level of schooling above the compulsory in the United Kingdom). I don't know what started my depression, not even now. I can only guess that it was the years of taunting from my peers that wore down my self esteem so much I saw myself as worthless.

I then did something I never thought was possible of me. I cheated on my boyfriend. From then on, it was a downward spiral of lies and deceit and hurt. I knew I was hurting people, people who should have been really close. People who it mattered whether I lied to them or not. But I tried to block it out. I became suspicious of anyone who tried to get too close, because it was as though they were trying to rule my life, interfere in it. I didn't believe that anyone could worry about me.

This is something I wrote recently about how depression made me feel.

I was writing in an online diary at the time. When my family found it and started to read it, I was mortified. One thing that happened was that they all got worried. My dad thought I was blaming my parents' divorce on my depression, but I wasn't. He came round to my mum's house, where I lived, to give me a lecture on how much everyone loved me, even my step family, regardless of the divorce. It was like no-one was listening. They were all trying to intefere without getting their facts right. That's what it felt like to me. When all I needed was a bit of space, they all tried to crowd me with what I believed was their fake love. I now know that they were truly worried for my welfare, and were just trying to help me. But they went about it in the wrong way. They didn't stop to read what they found properly.

I've never been in the situation where a loved one of mine has been depressed. But knowing how much I went through, and how I bottled things up and pushed people away, I could imagine how hard it would be to help someone who is depressed.

I can also imagine how hurtful it would be to have someone you love treat you with such suspicion and accuse you of faking your love and concern. I can imagine how tempting it would be to give up helping and supporting your loved one through depression, but even though they say otherwise, they need your help and support. I needed my family to support me. After I stopped being angry with my family, they seemed to know how to help my progress through my "tunnel" and out into the light. This help will vary. For me, I needed very little active help. It meant a lot to me that my family understood that I was going through a hard time, and that if I needed some help, I'd come to them for a talk. All they wanted in return was the knowledge that things were progressing, albeit slowly. So I told them when I went to see the school councellor.

Seeing a councellor helped me tremendously. But it was because I let it help me. I wanted to get better. I wanted to see the light at the end of the "tunnel". She was someone to talk to who I knew would keep what I said to herself. Someone who could offer advice to me that people who cared about me might have overlooked. She was someone who listened, without telling me that what I was saying was stupid, because of course your family care about you! She became my friend.

I would say that I walked out into the sunshine from my tunnel after I broke up with my boyfriend of two years. He was there all through my depression, and tried to help me as much as he could, but the whole thing put a strain on our relationship, and we just stopped loving each other. It was a year since we broke up on the 12th April 2002. That feeling of freedom was the fresh start I needed to begin my new life. I've lived my new life in with Jonathan, and it's with him I hope my new life lasts forever.

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