'I DON'T WANT ANYONE ELSE TO SUFFER IN THE WAY THAT I DID'

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'I DON'T WANT ANYONE ELSE TO SUFFER IN THE WAY THAT I DID'

Mandie with her children Sophie and on.

Thursday December 9,2010

By Georgina Horton

MANDIE HOLGATE, 36, explains how she overcame her debilitating

post-natal depression and is now dedicated to helping others in

the same position.

My life seemed perfect. I was happily

married to Andy, the love of my life whom I met when I was 19.

I had one son on, now nine, and had just had my second

child Sophie, now seven, and was a blooming new mum.

We lived in a gorgeous house on Mersea

Island, Essex, and Andy, who is 37, was a technical

specialist. I had just given up work as a company manager to

raise our family. We had no money worries and I had an

incredibly supportive family nearby.

Everyone saw me as this successful,

independent and vivacious woman but two months after Sophie

was born I was hit by a bout of depression.

It started in February 2004, just after our

cat Chester was killed by a car. For some reason this pushed

me into a downward spiral. I would cry for days on end and run

around endlessly carrying out chores.

I put it down to the stress of having two

young children and losing our precious pet. Now I think it was

a warning sign of the serious depression that was to come.

We were due to go on our yearly holiday to

the South of France but instead of feeling excited I felt

anxious. I went to the doctor and explained that I wasn’t ill

but every day felt like a haze. He diagnosed post-natal

depression and told me to enjoy my holiday, prescribing some

anti-depressants.

Andy knew something wasn’t right and

although he didn’t say anything he kept reassuring me

throughout the holiday and telling me he loved me. I felt a

constant sense of inarticulate grief and sadness. How could

I admit to feeling sad when life was so “great”?

When we got home it was as if a black

blanket had enveloped me. I couldn’t hold a conversation and

would visit the doctor weekly but I would always leave the

surgery crying hysterically.

I was unable to sleep for more than 40

minutes a night because I’d wake up with a million thoughts.

I began to hate myself. Every day when I

looked in the mirror I would hit myself and tell myself how

horrible I was. I felt worthless, as though I didn’t deserve

to be alive.

I began shouting at Andy and snapping at

the kids but he was still very supportive. He would walk out

of the room to avoid confrontation or he’d try to persuade

me that I was beautiful and that he loved me.

No one would have guessed I was

clinically depressed or that anything was wrong at all. Only

I knew how lonely, empty and horrible I felt. I became

terrified of going outside and only left the house to take

on to school and to pick up the shopping.

I started drinking. I would easily get

through a bottle of wine a day and although I was never

drunk around the children I would plead with Andy for one

more glass but he would tell me that I’d had enough. This

would often lead to rows.

Once I smashed our wedding photo against

the wall because I was so angry. Another time I was so

furious with him that I slowly poured a glass of wine over

him while he slept. He didn’t say anything until things had

calmed down in the morning and I’d sobered up.

It got to the point where all I wanted

was to stay at home, go into a deep sleep and never wake up

again. In spring 2005, when Andy, on and Sophie were

asleep, I gathered all the pills that were close at hand and

took them. I didn’t count them. I didn’t even look to see

what they were. I just swallowed them. To my great annoyance

I woke up. I tried this twice but both times nothing

happened.

Things were now completely out of hand.

My mental health trust didn’t know how to help me.

They believed the only solution was to

see me as an inpatient and treat my severe depression with

electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), a psychiatric treatment in

which seizures are electrically induced in anaesthetised

patients for therapeutic effect.

This was very scary but Andy held my hand

and calmly explained that the things keeping me alive were

him and my children. He then stood up and we walked out.

On our way back to the car he turned to

me and said: “You’re not staying in there with that nutty

professor.”

That was the first real laugh I’d had in

18 months and the following week I threw away all the drugs

and changed my mind set.

I decided to see a counsellor and

registered with Colchester Mind, the local branch of the

leading mental health charity Mind. They were fantastic and

helped me realise that I was seriously ill with clinical

depression.

I also registered on a cognitive

behavioural therapy course and started having regular

courses of reflexology and self-hypnosis.

My recovery wasn’t easy and without my

tablets I became a shaking wreck but I took each day as it

came.

I surrounded myself with family and

friends and, most important of all, I accepted I had an

illness and stopped feeling ashamed.

I started to believe in myself again as a

wife and mother. I realised I had the children to think

about and a very loving, supportive husband. I decided to

take a much more pro-active approach to life.

Instead of saying yes to everything I put

my children, husband and myself first and no longer felt

guilty about it. I also decided to train as a life coach to

help other people through similar situations.

I have been off anti-depressants for four

years. I have finally come to terms with the fact that

rather than a quick bout of post-natal depression I had a

mental illness that will be with me for life.

I am in total control of my life again

and the sadness in my eyes has now been replaced with a

sparkle of real happiness.

For more

details about depression contact Colchester Mind on colchestermind.org

or to find out more about Mandie go to mandieholgate.co.uk