Autism & Depression

Autism and Depression are locked in a miserable marriage, but they grimly cling onto each other in an ungainly, dysfunctional dance.

I always go to pains to point out that Finian's Autism didn't cause my Depression, but it's a perpetuating factor that isn't going anywhere soon.

I've been managing my Depression pretty well over the last number of years, until I decided last year that I was "just FINE" and weaned off my medication.  I continued to do well (or so I told myself) and coped with covid restrictions and the isolation that comes with it.  Then the schools closed.  Then support services were withdrawn,  Then my son was locked in a 5 km bubble with me 24/7.  Then he stopped sleeping as he was out of routine.  

All day he roamed the house, switching electronic devices on, switching lights off, stimming loudly, needing sensory input, throwing tantrums, screaming, slamming doors shut, flinging doors open, devouring non-edibles, refusing proper food, leaning into my face demanding dvds I didn't have, occasional self-harming, reciting endless scripts of favourite cartoons, cranking speaker volumes up to the max,  moving, moving, moving.

At night he would sleep for 3 hours and then pace endlessly on the landing, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until morning.  

Then it started all over again. 

And again.  And again.

I stopped sleeping.  I stopped eating.  I woke every morning with a bellyful of dread. My weight dropped.  My concentration fractured. My heart raced.  My mind became an incoherent snarl of thoughts and images.  I forgot how to breathe.

But still I was FINE.

Until I wasn't.

My resilience ground down to expose nothing but raw nerve endings. Inevitably something was going to break me.  It didn't really matter what.  The point is, that this tsunami was coming at breakneck speed and I could no longer avoid it.

When I broke, I became embodied psychological pain.   

I drew the blinds and crawled into bed in a tight foetal position.  I could barely speak. My heart thudded like wet clay in my chest.  My lungs contracted. I was frozen with terror.  I wished to die. 

I'm blessed to have a husband who cared for me when I was a crazed, needy wreck.  He got me medication. He fed me.  He brought me water.  I could barely crawl from  bed to bathroom.  He held me and told me he loved me even when I was an incoherent mess.  I was truly insane with Depression.

I'm slowly getting better.  I had a few false dawns where I believed I was on an even keel, but recovery is not linear.  Patience is key (sadly something I haven't been blessed with).

I go out for walks.  I'm starting to eat.  I have spells of good spirits.  I no longer wish to die.

Depression is a violent beast but, strangely, some good has come out of it. The inner turmoil unearthed deeper psychological issues that I know I need to address.  This will be difficult and humbling, but will result in personal growth.  It also served as a reminder that I have people in my life who unconditionally love me, even at my very worst. 

The point is, Depression is very real and very near when you have a special needs kid.  It's always sniffing the air around you, waiting for a moment of vulnerability.  It quietly thunders toward you and you don't even see it coming.

Awareness, support and self-care are key to surviving and managing it.  Learn about Depression here and go to your GP, a friend, a psychologist.... talk to the postman if you have to.  But don't try to manage it on your own.  Depression distorts your thoughts and contracts your spirit.  

Depression lies to you. 

It is survivable and manageable.... it can even expose some deeper layers you now have the opportunity to deal with.  But it's very hard to navigate on your own.  Special needs parents need to be able to reach out to each other (and to professionals)  to help weather the storms.