"I've spent most of my adult life trying to get away from me"

By KRISTY CHAMBERS.

The American recording artist, Charlene, is arguably most well known for singing ‘I’ve Never Been to Me,’ a poignant ballad that topped the charts for a brief period in 1982.

I interpret the song’s lyrics as a cautionary tale of regret from a narrator who was formerly an international escort. Upon reflection, a lifestyle of drinking champagne on yachts and being undressed by kings has left her with a lot of glamorous memories, sure, but also a resounding sense of emotional vacancy.

‘I’ve been to Paradise,’ Charlene laments, ‘but I’ve never been to me.’

Well, Charlene, I have been to me and as a travel destination, it’s highly overrated. In fact, I’ve spent most of my adult life and income trying to get the hell away from me, through travel, alcohol, food and drugs.

Much of my desire to run away is rooted in the depression that I was diagnosed with at 15 years of age. With little understanding of the condition, I assumed that depression was an illness with a clear trajectory, much like the tonsillitis I had as a child. That is, I would feel horrible for a while and then I would have my tonsils taken out, eat a lot of ice cream and jelly and emerge from hospital feeling perfectly fine. Imagine my dismay when the depression took several months to resolve, and had the audacity to return again the following year, and the next…

Like a flat mate who doesn’t do the dishes, living with depression isn’t bad all of the time, but just when you’re beginning to relax, to almost forget, you’ll come home to a mountain of resiliently greasy, baked on washing up. That’s what depression is to me, the jerk that still manages to surprise me in the most disappointing, disheartening way, even after 25 years of intimate cohabitation.

Any illness can be an isolating and lonely experience, regardless of how many lovely, caring people you may be fortunate enough to be surrounded by. Depression was something I went through by myself and thought I could manage on my own, too, but after years of recurrent suicidal thoughts and obstinate unhappiness, I began taking anti-depressant medication at 21. Until then, I thought it was just my lot in life to collapse every six months, sleep 22 hours a day for weeks on end, then claw my way back to a reasonable level of functioning, only to have the cycle repeat itself. 

For me, going on medication felt like having my rotten tonsils removed. It was such a revelation that I thought I would never be unhappy again. I felt so great, in fact, that after a while I stopped taking my medication. What was the point of taking a tablet for a condition I no longer had? Right?

Wrong. My crappy flat mate was back and I returned to medication, a little remorseful and quite resentful, disappointed to know that I was still perfectly capable of falling apart. There was no cure for what I had, only management. It was a bummer.

Travel has been my drug of choice for several years and my search for the ‘Paradise’ Charlene speaks of in her song has been exhaustive. But finding that I am no happier living in New York City than I was living in Brisbane or a tiny village in the English countryside has helped me to finally put things into focus.

Now I see my depression as a part of me, just like my bones – occasionally active, mostly dormant, but always there. Medication, exercise, eating and sleeping well are all helpful in keeping that part of me in tact, but I’m not impervious to injury, or to feeling broken, and I no longer feel shame in talking about it.

If this post brings up issues for you, or you just need someone to talk to, please call Lifeline on 131 114. You can also visit the Lifeline website here and the Beyond Blue website here.

 

Kristy Chambers is the author of It’s Not You, Geography, It’s Me which is published by UQP and in all good bookshops from 24^th September.