DAVID*, 30 Geek

Please be aware that this interview may cause distress to some readers. If you experience distress then please seek assistance and lean on your support networks.

How are you feeling?

Tired but I’m always tired so that’s nothing new. Feeling a bit of trepidation about this upcoming interview but otherwise I’m good.

Can you tell me about your journey with mental health?

Fuck where do I start, well I’ve been formally diagnosed with depression, OCD – Excessive thoughts (obsessions) that lead to repetitive behaviours (compulsions), OCPD – Obsessive compulsive personality disorder is a personality disorder that’s characterized by extreme perfectionism, order, and neatness and I have insomnia, which was about 6-7 years ago. I first noticed something was wrong during my third year of university, I just noticed I wasn’t feeling right. Since I was in the midst of university, I just pushed it to the back of my mind and tried to not acknowledge it. During that same time, unbeknownst to me, I came to develop an infection. Back when I was 17-18, I was diagnosed with a heart condition for which the only remedy was to put an ICD (implantable cardioverter defibrillator) inside me which is like a pacemaker. When that first happened no dramas, I ended up with a few scars on my chest but I could deal with that. In 2008 I started getting extremely sick, and up to that point I’d been for the most part healthy. Didn’t have any major health dramas before that point.

At the end of 2008, I remember getting extremely sick for the few weeks during the summer holidays. I had a fever, nausea and all this ugly stuff. At first, I thought it was food poisoning or something from the heat but I got through it and went back to Uni for my third year. Over the next three years, every few months intermittently I would get sick again with the same symptoms, each time worse than the time before. Eventually it ended up with me being admitted into hospital. When I was in hospital they diagnosed it as pneumonia or chest infection and gave me antibiotics and sent me on my way. I thought it was all fine when I got out of hospital, I was cured, ready to jump back into university and my studies. Then again and again the same symptoms, having to go into hospital for a week or so at a time, they give me the same diagnosis, give me antibiotics and send me home again. I wasn’t constantly sick throughout the three years, just every few months but the interval between my hospital stays would get smaller and smaller as it went on. Each time I would get out I would tell myself “you’re good again, you’re ready to throw yourself back into life” but it was beginning to take a toll on me mentally and physically.

The first time I noticed this was getting serious was during an exam period, I finished my exam but I noticed during my exam I was getting rigors, that’s when you are shaking when you are really cold, and it was in the last 10-15 minutes of the exam. I finished the exam, thought I did pretty good, then went outside to decompress with my friends sitting down at a table, just shooting the shit with them. Then I told all my friends I wasn’t feeling good and I thought I was going to pass out, which I did, and my head just kind of slumped on the table. They carried me over to the couch, I came to after a few minutes, they called the ambulance and I ended up in hospital once again. They thought I had a chest infection and they kept me for a few days, gave me a diagnosis, the drugs and sent me on my way. Because that happened I had to take a few weeks off, and I couldn’t finish the rest of my exams so I had to do catch up exams when I eventually got back into university. At that point because of what was happening to me physically, I felt like I was falling behind and that I was constantly playing catch up. When that happened, I knew it was quite serious and that I needed to take steps to take care of myself.

At that time, I was doing a double degree in engineering with a lot of hours. I decided to study part time which I thought was the right decision at the time, I still think it is in a way even though it didn’t work out. I went to part time study also knowing that I wouldn’t eventually be with my friends anymore and that they would be ahead of me. I thought that this was the only way to get through this, this was the only way to make it through University. I cut back to part time and I was travelling okay, I still saw my friends occasionally but again I would end up in hospital with the same symptoms. Eventually it got to the point where I was getting frustrated with what was happening to me, and that depression that had been lurking in the back of my mind slowly pushed its way to the forefront.

I also began to develop my OCD symptoms which I found frustrating. With the OCD, it’s a very illogical disease, the things you do and the compulsions and rituals don’t make sense to an outside observer. It seems very irrational and silly and I think the person who has OCD knows that as well but yet they can’t stop themselves from doing these routines. I like to think I’m not stupid and I knew something was really off but I thought I could just get through it by myself. I didn’t really tell anyone, not my family, friends or doctors at that time. I was more concerned about the physical side of things not the mental stuff. Just through the next year, my depression and anxiety symptoms started to develop but I didn’t really take steps to try and fix them. Pushed it to one side and tried to get through my uni work as best I could. During that time looking back, it seems like my life was only defined by being sick and university, there was nothing else.

I can’t remember when but I managed to get a mid-term internship at an engineering company. I guess my first proper real life job experience was only for three weeks just during the mid-year break and I was nervous as heck. When I got that internship, it was something I had never done before and because it was something new it made me feel anxious I guess. “What if I go there and I don’t know what I’m doing? what if I stuff up?” Because there was an element of anxiety to it, it manifested in insomnia and basically I had trouble sleeping. I remember when I did that internship I was feeling constantly tired from the lack of sleep. I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness during my time there and that’s what I took away from the internship. No real experience looking back, just feeling sorry for myself and feeling miserable. When that happened, I thought okay you need help there is something wrong. It’s probably depression, you need to go seek some help for that. At that time, again I hadn’t gone to see anyone about it nor told anyone.

When I got back to university after the internship, eventually I ended up seeing one of the onsite counsellors which is provided free of charge. Not a psychologist just a counsellor and so I started seeing this counsellor, she was a very pleasant and gentle woman. Up to that point, I had never dealt with any doctors on the psychologist side of things, and by the time I started seeing the counsellor I was effectively on my own studying. All my friends had moved on whilst I still was behind working on my studies part time.

Over the course of the next year, I saw the counsellor regularly even if I didn’t have anything on at the university I would come to a counselling session. Since it was free you could come and see someone as many times as you wanted as long as there was an opening. It was my first time talking to someone about the stuff that was going on in my head. I was quite unsure about it because I’m not a person to open myself up, let alone to some stranger I’ve never met before. I felt comfortable with her, I felt comfortable talking about my problems and the issues going on in my life. I’m quite grateful that she took the time to listen, I can’t remember how many times I saw her but I’m guessing at least over a dozen. I was seeing her quite regularly.

I think she noticed it as well that I was seeing her quite regularly. Lots of things were discussed, how I was going at university, home life, my health dramas, I think I brought up my childhood at one point. I eventually gathered up the confidence to tell her about my OCD. She was quite honest at that point and said that it was not something she was too familiar with, she’s not an expert in it. At that point, I was just trying to deal with my depression and insomnia just so I could get back to my studies and do them the best I could. Despite that I was feeling quite miserable with myself and it all came to a head one day when one morning I had an emotional breakdown. I was home alone at the time and I was just lying on the floor crying and sobbing to myself and it was the first time I considered calling lifeline.

I don’t cry a lot but when it does happen, it genuinely means it’s bad. When I was having that break down it was the worst feeling in the world and I think it was going to happen sooner or later because everything was building to that point. In a sense, it probably needed to happen, not that it’s pleasant to go through but it was kind of like a release for me. Up to that point I’d been keeping everything inside for the most part, it was probably one of the worst feelings I had in my life. I think I was meant to go to work that day but I didn’t. I’m normally very conscientious of letting my boss know ahead of time if I will be unavailable for whatever reason, but I didn’t because I was on the floor crying my guts out. My mum came home a few hours later, and I was feeling a bit better but she could probably tell there was something off because I was sitting in the bathroom wallowing in my own misery. I think she just thought I was physically sick, so she told me to go to bed and sleep it off. I don’t think my mum quite understands mental illness, not to the level people generally do these days.

That day was one of the worst days I’ve had in my life, yet it wasn’t the emotional break down that gets me upset so much now, it’s that with my first dog Buster, it was my responsibility to feed him at the time, but because of my breakdown I didn’t get around to it. I got around to feeding him but it was a few hours later after it was due and dogs know schedules. When I went down to see him he was whining and whimpering. I hate that notion of me having a moment of weakness caused my dog to miss out on food. That’s the thing I’m most ashamed about.

Nobody really knows what happened that day, they probably thought I was just sick or took a day off. After my breakdown, I think I booked a counselling session as soon as possible. Went to see her, told her about it, and I think she realised that my issues were quite serious, and that it was something much deeper and more involved than what she usually dealt with. After some discussion, with my consent, she decided to bring in a mental health team to assess and diagnose me. The next session, a psychologist/psychiatrist from a mental health team came in and between him, my counsellor and me, we discussed how I felt, any symptoms I had, depressive, OCD or otherwise. That’s where my path to a proper diagnosis began. After a few more appointments with a bunch of psychologists, I got diagnosed with Depression and OCD. It wasn’t news to me, I kind of knew it already.

After all the diagnoses, they decided the best course of action was to prescribe me an antidepressant/sleeping pill for the insomnia. They decided to give me Mirtazapine and this was my first experience with an antidepressant. With these types of things there’s always trial and error, always an adjustment period. I started taking Mirtazapine, they said it was an antidepressant as well but I was mainly taking it for the sedative effect. I was having real trouble sleeping by that point. I was still in the midst of uni during all of this and it was difficult at the best of times. It probably took me a month to get used to it, and I guess the main side effects were the sedative and hunger. They were the most prominent side effects that I noticed. The sedative effects were so strong, so you had to take it really early before going to bed so you’re not drowsy throughout the following day.

Even though the Mirtazapine helped, at best I was running at 70% which in hindsight wasn’t enough to get me through university, and I was really struggling at that point. Even though I was sleeping better and feeling better about myself in regards to the depression, I was still struggling heavily. Towards the end of 2010, a few things happened in quick succession that kind of turned my life upside down in a sense. The first notable thing that happened was that a friend died in a car accident. He wasn’t a close friend, he was the husband of one of my school friends, but he was a friend nevertheless. When I received the news, I felt sad because I was just getting to know the guy, and I felt we had a few things in common. I was sadder at the fact though that my friend at the age of 22-23 had become a widow. How many people can say that’s happened to them? It’s fucked up, I went to their wedding only a few years earlier. So, I went to my first funeral, I’d never been to one in my life, with people grieving over the loss of a loved one.

Maybe a month later my Grandma passed away. She was the last living grandparent in the family. She was the head of the family in a sense, whenever we had family gatherings we would go to her house. She passed away and the whole family, me included, took it pretty hard. I’d never really dealt with grief before, it’s disheartening to see other members of your family being sad and going through grief. Up to that point I had never seen that before, I’d only known my own sadness. Grief because of death is a different thing, bit more pronounced I guess. We knew it was coming, I remember my dad taking my sister and I up to see her for the last time. My extended family had become carers for her during the last months. I think everyone knew she was on her way out, not that it lessens the impact of her passing away.

Since the family generally follows Buddhism, it was a bit of a protracted grieving process, whereby the funeral process took place over a few weeks. My Grandma in her final years of her life, decided to adopt Buddhist practices to try to find a sense of peace and contentment. The friend died in October and Grandma died in November of that year. November is practically the exam period for Uni so with these deaths so close in proximity, it was a bit much for me. At that point my studies were all over the place so I couldn’t handle uni anymore basically. I was in the midst of studying for exams, when my family got the phone call that my Grandma had passed away. After I received the news, I felt like I couldn’t handle Uni and I didn’t end up going to my exams at all. I was still seeing the Uni counsellor during this time, and the exam period came and went and I knew in the back of my mind there would be consequences for that but I thought I’d worry about that later, I had other things to worry about.

Late November early December, I got extremely sick with the same kind of symptoms as before but even more severe. By that point I’d been in and out of hospital numerous times. Hospitals aren’t a pleasant experience I think people can agree on that, and I had always tried to avoid hospitals as much as I could, even though it wasn’t the best idea. I was extremely sick but I thought I could soldier on through it and hope it came to pass. Now I consider myself a music lover, I love music, I think it’s the only thing that’s kept me sane over the years. In my spare time, I like to attend a few concerts as well, so there were two concerts that I wanted to attend, Linkin Park (RIP) and Muse. that’s the other reason I didn’t want to attend hospital, I wanted to attend those concerts. Concerts are expensive and if you don’t go, there’s $100 down the drain. I ended up going to those two concerts even though I knew I was in no condition to go to those concerts as I was really struggling.

The Linkin Park concert luckily was seated at Rod Laver arena and I was going with my sister and I managed to get through that okay. I enjoyed it as best as I could, then the Muse concert was a few days after. This I was going to on my own and I was on the floor, standing. I managed to get myself to the concert and tried to enjoy it as best as I could but I was really struggling. At one point, I had to sit down at the back against the barriers. Physically I was feeling like shit at this concert even though it was a concert I was really keen on attending and enjoy myself at. I just couldn’t with this one, I was really struggling, I thought I might pass out at points but I didn’t want to do that. After the concert finished up, somehow I got home but it was just one foot in front of the other, that’s all I could do. I was in a really bad condition.

The next day I had an appointment with my cardiologist, which is normally just a check-up for my defibrillator. I told him how I was feeling and how I had the same symptoms as before but even worse. After some discussion, I decided to admit myself to hospital, up to that point every time I ended up in hospital, there was always someone else who had to get me in there, to call the ambulance. This time I knew it was getting really bad and I needed to deal with it. I decided to admit myself into hospital through the emergency department, which is not a light decision, I’d been in EDs before and you’re waiting quite a while, 5-6 hours just to get a bed. At that point I knew there was something seriously wrong, something had been seriously wrong for the past three years.

I ended up staying for quite a bit and I was an inpatient for three months. My previous longest stay was about a week at most, it was quite tough initially because when you’re in hospital there’s not much to do. Sleep, eat, watch TV, get your medication, but I eventually got used to it. When I was in hospital during that period they finally figured out what was going on with me, long story short there was an infection growing on one of the leads of my defibrillator. with my previous hospital stays I was always prescribed antibiotics and they worked up to a point, but it wasn’t enough to completely eliminate the infection. The reason I was in hospital for so long was because they had to take out the defibrillator and the leads, flush my body with antibiotics so I was all clear and then put a new defibrillator back inside. With my heart condition, there’s a random risk of me having a sudden heart attack and the defibrillator acts as a back up to start my heart if that ever happens.

There was a period where I had no defibrillator so there was a chance I could have had a heart attack, possibly die with nothing to back me up, nothing to get my heart back into rhythm, and so that’s the reason I stayed so long in hospital. I was still taking the antidepressant Mirtazapine during this time so I was still dealing with that as well, but the main thing was just getting me back to a state of being infection free. They would have kept me for longer but I decided to discharge myself because there was another concert I didn’t want to miss out on. They were strongly against it but I decided to discharge myself, so for some time I was walking with an antibiotic pump, attached to me, which was quite cumbersome.

By February 2011, I was in the all clear physically and at that point, I just decided to take some time off from university. I needed it. I’d been suffering for three years with this infection and I’d had enough. During those three years, there was no reprieve for me, all I knew was university, hospital, university, hospital and I never felt like I had a holiday or a break. I just needed to stop and get away from it all and to recharge my batteries and get a sense of myself back. By that point my self-esteem, my sense of worth was in tatters, and with going from full time to part time, not going to exams and taking time off university, I felt like I had failed again and again. I don’t think I’m particularly talented at anything but I did well enough at school so with my studies, I felt that they were the only notable achievements I had during my life. Once that was taken away, I felt like I had nothing really. At that point physically I was fine, but the depression, OCD and insomnia was still there, and they hadn’t been properly dealt with. It was a new struggle I had to face, dealing with these mental demons.

After my gap year, I was meant to go back but I never did. I couldn’t face the fact that I was a failure, that going back to university I was going to have to deal with the consequences of failing my subjects and exams. I didn’t want to do that so I ended up dropping out. It wasn’t a conscious decision on my part, I just dropped out by not attending. Ever since then, I’ve kind of been just getting by and trying to figure myself out, been drifting along since then, trying to deal with the depression and anxiety and having varying success with it. If you were to ask me if I prefer to deal with a physical illness or a mental illness, I’d say physical illness all the time.

It’s relatively simple compared to mental illness, physical illness you get diagnosis, get a recommended treatment, you follow that and get better. With mental illness, it’s unique to everyone in that there’s no sure-fire method to get better. Some people need therapy, some people need antidepressants, some need both, some people need to be admitted to a psychiatric hospital, there’s so many variables with mental illness and because of that, it’s such a hard monster to wrangle, to get under control. I’m still struggling with it today, and I’m a bit better but I’m not sure I’ll ever be free of it, it’s kind of sad and pessimistic for me to say but there is a degree of truth to it.

Did you find the repetitive nature of going to uni then hospital and back again, made you feel like you were stuck in a rut which in turn caused you to feel different to those around you?

Yes, I think that’s when the rut started to set in, as for being different to others, I didn’t really compare myself to others so much because I internalised everything. Of course, what I was going through was different to what everyone else was going through, particularly with the illness. With the infection, there were a few elements to it which I won’t go into but the chances of me actually getting this infection were really small. When I did get diagnosed with it and the doctors told me about the probabilities of this kind of thing happening in general, I felt really unlucky, like the universe was against me. It’s kind of ridiculous how what could go wrong, did go wrong for me.

Did you ever blame yourself?

Not on the physical side of things, there’s not much you can do about that, mentally though I thought I could be stronger. I thought I was being weak with not getting through my studies, and just with the depression stuff I thought that it was all in my head, that I could just work through it and get over it. It’s not as simple as that unfortunately.

When you first initially went through depression, how have the thoughts changed over time to where you are now?

I don’t think they have changed so much as they are just less severe. I’m very critical of myself, I find it hard to identify any positive attributes I may have. My depressive thoughts always act to put me down, there are always constant thoughts like “you suck at this, you’re a failure, you’re hopeless socially”. The depression is always lurking in the back of my mind.

Did you see the university counsellor as a breakthrough when you started seeing her?

Yeah, she was the first person I spoke to on a deeper level. I’m a guy, and it’s hard to talk about emotions and how you’re feeling even to friends and family, and she was someone removed from that, someone I didn’t know personally. I felt like I could be open and completely honest with her, though I probably still held a few things back since it was my first time speaking to a counsellor. I was very grateful she was there during that period and it was through her, I managed to get diagnosed. I guess I’ve got her to thank for that.

Did it terrify you, to admit to yourself you had a mental illness?

I think I wanted to deny it, I was in denial for a bit. By admitting to myself I had a mental illness, I thought that it made me a weaker person. I thought it would be seen as a sign of failure, which up to that point I’d never dealt with, failure that is. I think I was scared to admit it to myself, even though the first step to getting better is admitting it to yourself that yes, you’re suffering from a mental illness, and you need to get treatment and get better.

Do you believe failure can be healthy for you personally?

For myself, I think failure can be a learning experience. You learn best from your mistakes. That being said, I don’t think I’ve gotten much from my failures so far. I’ve had failures, I’ve made mistakes but I don’t think I’ve taken the steps to learn from them, yet.

Are you more anxious of showing your weakness to others or in your mind being internally aware of it on your own?

I don’t want people to see how vulnerable I am, I’m not a person who opens myself up emotionally even to close friends and family. Even though my family, and extended family, know about my depression and stuff now, I’m not quite comfortable with them knowing the extent of my vulnerabilities, and would just prefer to deal with things on my own. I’m grateful that they care for me though.

Is your OCD manageable now?

Yeah it definitely is, it was a lot worse then. With my OCD stress is a trigger and as university was a stressful time and you combine that with being physically sick then yeah, it’s a lot of stress. Since I’m trying to adopt a more stress-free lifestyle, it’s more manageable now. It’s still there, and will always be there in some regard, as sad as it is for me to say. OCD is a very insidious disease, I hate it. The depression I can understand somewhat because it arose due to life circumstance, but the OCD seems more like an illogical response. If something bad happens to you, naturally you are going to feel down. The OCD was also a response to my situation but the very nature of OCD makes it harder to deal with. I’m not exactly Spock, I’m not a robot, but I do consider myself a very logical guy.

OCD by its very nature is illogical, and it puts me at odds with who I am as a person. My OCD and the person I am, they conflict, and it’s hard to reconcile both things. There’s no logic checking something 10 times or doing something over and over again when you have done it successfully the first time, but you are compelled to do it because of the OCD. You know in your mind what you are doing is irrational and stupid, yet you do it anyway. It makes you feel insecure about yourself and makes you question your sanity in a sense. It’s a lot more manageable now, since I have less stress in my life. It’s not something I’m too worried about currently, as my OCD symptoms are very minimal.

Can you see what you have overcome as being a courageous journey, as I’m saying that to you right now, can you believe that?

One of my cousins described me as brave when I was recovering from my experience with the infection. Personally, I don’t see myself as brave or courageous, it’s something that just happened. Something which I managed to survive but something that also left a few scars, physically and mentally. No I don’t consider myself courageous, at most a survivor up to this point.

That’s a compliment right there, say I ask you to compliment one part of your journey what would it be?

It’s funny the first time I went to see a proper psychologist he got me to write down all the positive aspects and negative aspects of myself. With the negative I had written a whole list, yet the positive I struggled with. It’s funny you asked that, I’d say my perseverance is the most notable part of my journey, if that makes sense. I think I can persevere somewhat, though perhaps not all the time. Honestly everyday is a struggle for me, just getting up everyday is an achievement in itself.

What keeps you grounded/content?

I’m not sure that I’m content. I think generally I’m a level-headed guy, I try to keep things on an even keel. The nature of my character keeps me grounded, if that makes sense. I like to think I’m pretty chill, If I start dealing with extreme emotions, I’m not at a grounded level. If I let things overwhelm me, that can cause my mental illness to flare up. I have to keep level headed to keep my depression at bay.

What kind of activities do they consist of?

Just anything to take my mind of things, immersing myself in a TV show, movie, playing video games, listening to music, solitary activities that take my mind of things, if only briefly.

Do you feel your mental illness defines you?

I think it’s defined a big part of my life, almost 10 years now. Whether it defines me as a person, I’d like to think I’m more than that, more than my mental illness, my heart condition. There is no question my mental illness has impact me on some level, in some ways I think it’s made me a better person, in some ways I think my mental illness has made me a worse person.

Can you elaborate on how it’s made you a good and bad person?

Not really bad, just made me a weaker person, in my mind. I was always aware of depression, and I think most people are in this day and age. Having experienced it, having gone through it, I’m a lot more understanding of it now. I’ve developed a general sense of empathy towards people and their struggles, which I can’t say I would have if I hadn’t gone through the depression and stuff. I think in a sense I’m kind of grateful for that, I like to think I’m more empathetic and understanding towards people. Mental illness has weakened my resolve, taken away my passion for life, taken away my motivation so in that sense I feel like I’m weaker for it. Not to say I can’t get those things back but it will always be a struggle, at least for the foreseeable future.

Do you feel like your mind has betrayed you?

Yeah, fucking oath. Especially the OCD, when you’re aware that your routines and compulsions are wrong in a sense but you do them anyway, yeah, it’s hard to come to terms with that. To be honest, I don’t think I can ever fuller recover mentally from the OCD, it will always be a part of me in some way or another. The best I can hope to do is minimise the symptoms but unfortunately, I don’t think it will ever go away.

How are you feeling now?

I feel okay, I thought I was going to turn into a blubbering mess. I’m ok talking to you so I’m not feeling too bad, quite comfortable actually.

*Name has been changed to maintain confidentiality