A thank you letter to the friend who told me I had depression

My dear friend,

It was just after my children had returned to school after the long summer holidays. The weather was still decent and the house quiet, yet I had no motivation.

Summer with two children with autism had drained me. There just seemed to be nothing left of me to give. I sat on the couch with a cup of tea and logged onto social media. It was my escape.

All you did was start a chat.

“How are you?”

I was fine. Of course I was fine. I was just tired after seven weeks of non stop coping with my children day and night. I adore my children. They were now back at school and routine was re-established so why would I be anything else but contented, happy and relaxed.

We chatted briefly for a bit while I scrolled through pics of smart children in uniforms, smiling selfies and the usual other tweets and statuses. Today I was just not feeling it for some reason.

I was exhausted. I convinced myself that was it. It was the change from having a noisy, chaotic house for seven weeks to having silence. It was the lack of sleep that comes with having children with autism. It was the one too many meltdowns I had dealt with. It was the isolation of summer. It was the facing another school year of my son still not speaking. It was the thought of another term full of meetings, forms, homework, appointments and even more meetings. It was the anxiety of wondering how my children were coping with huge changes and the thought of how they would be when they came home and we had the brunt of all that stress. It was wondering how to reconnect with my husband who I had barely had a chance to speak to for seven weeks alone. A mix of everything; that was what was wrong today. Tomorrow I would be fine.

An hour or so later, and still sitting on that sofa, my doorbell rang.

Of course it was you.

“I’m worried about you.”

So we chatted face to face for a bit. I just needed a down day I told you. Let me catch up with some sleep and get my house in order and all will be fine. Maybe I just need to get my hair cut or something? Perhaps a bit of retail therapy would get my spark back?

“Perhaps you should go see your doctor?” You said.

Why would my doctor want to see me? Antibiotics or painkillers won’t help me. I don’t feel ‘ill’?

“You may be depressed?”

Who me? Really?

I called the doctor in the end, if nothing else just to get you off my back.

Thank you for pushing me. Thank you for caring enough to reach out to me. Thank you for noticing me struggling.

Yes, you were right, I was depressed. I never expected that. Maybe you did? Maybe you were able to see something I couldn’t?

I am not sure if you remember that day as much as I do? It was seven months ago now but it changed my life. The doctor gave me tablets and I am so much stronger, more motivated and happier now.

One day I may be well enough to come off them. For now the stress and strain of everyday life with two young children with autism means I need them. I am not ashamed of that. Why should I be?

I am just ashamed I never sought help sooner.

I will never forget you my friend. I have not seen you in person for a while now but you were there at the right time and I am grateful for that.

You taught me to look after myself. You also taught me that sometimes love and care means stepping out when you think someone is struggling.

I just want you to know that I am looking out for others now just as you looked out for me.

You taught me that sometimes others can have an insight that the person themselves can not see.

You taught me that friendship and social media can be a way to spot things in others and help them.

You were more than a virtual friend, you were there when I needed you.

Thank you again.

I really hope all is well with you and yours.

In gratitude forever,

One of your social media friends.

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No-one today should be caring alone

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No-one today should be caring alone

Middle aged man, commuting by train
Thoughts turn to his sister he left crying in pain
He’s off to a meeting, while she struggles at home
Both of them left to face it alone

Teenage mum struggling, pushing a chair
The child is yelling, people just stare
She is begging for help as she picks up the phone
She cares for her child, but does it alone

The couple at the cafe, sharing their tea
One of them lost yet no-one can see
He lives in the past, a mind not his own
Forgetting her name, they both grieve alone

The parents of a child who may never walk
They sing to a baby who still can not talk
Kissing a hand, though it’s all skin and bone
Everyday precious, weeping alone

Little eight year old, should be out to play
Instead she is feeding her dad everyday
Doing his care as the nurses have shown
With no one to tell her she isn’t alone

The next door neighbour, bringing some meals
Staying and listening to ask how she feels
Filling out forms while letting her moan
Determined his friend should not feel alone

The father sitting at the hospital bed
Digesting the words that the doctor just said
A new diagnosis, his mind has been thrown
Needing support so he isn’t alone

So many people with stories to tell
Caring for others, and doing it well
Yet they all need support, to know they are not on their own
Because no-one today should be caring alone.

Miriam Gwynne