I never noticed this thread before RainyOcean bumped it up, so I'm going to out myself too. I've suffered from depression and anxiety/panic since I was a child. My mom has the same thing, and an anxious, overprotective mother (plus the genetic tendency) really is a recipe for disaster.
I didn't get diagnosed until I was 22 or so, and was blessed enough to land with the best shrink in town (thank god for universities with med schools!) The o-fishul diagnosis is depression, panic disorder and agoraphobia. After some hellishly rocky times I'm pretty stable now, though I still get panic attacks occasionally. The difference is that I can cope with them now, and can talk my way through them. I can't sing the praises of cognitive therapy highly enough; it teaches you to change the way you think about things. Coincidentally, I'm seeing the shrink tomorrow. I've mentioned some of my Fortean experiences to him, btw, and rather than clapping me in the hospital he encouraged me to talk about them, because he thought they were fascinating. I know him well enough by now to know he isn't shining me on either.
The bummer is that I'm on the best antidepressant of my life, Serzone. I don't get ANY side effects from it except sleepiness, which is great because I'm the captain of the Canadian Insomniacs Team without it. Alas, they are discontinuing it because some people have had liver problems. Last time I saw my shrink he said he *might* be able to get a dispensation for me on compassionate grounds. I really don't want to start doing the medication dance all over again.
Agoraphobia: lovely disease, that.
Yes, I've been housebound. All of this fun mental health stuff has seriously delayed (if not irretrievably buggered up) me finishing my PhD, and it stretched my MA out a bit longer than it should have, although having my dad die in the middle of that degree didn't help. I also spent ~7 years in a long-distance relationship which probably didn't help.
I'm so much better now. I hate to be obnoxious, but I just want to tell everyone that there is hope, and there is recovery. I still have my days, but I feel a lot better and I hope I never go back to where I was. The fear of relapse is still very real. I can also thank my boyfriend for my current state of wellbeing; having a flesh and blood bloke around is a lot better than emailing several hours a day, not to mention the countless benefits of being with someone who treats me well (see the "vile exes" thread for hints of what the ex was like). I'm getting regular sleep, exercise, and nookie. :yeay:
As for looking younger...I'm 34 and am regularly taken for younger. Some new co-workers said just the other day that they thought I was 27, and I've been carded while buying cigarettes lately! (hrm, maybe it's the zits I was kvetching about in the whinge thread) I've also been wearing sunscreen on my face daily since I was about 13, *and* I refuse to buy into that belief that women over 30 must get short matronly haircuts. I do what I want and don't let age bother me, really.
That's not true. It does bother me. It doesn't seem to be affecting my life adversely though.
To all my fellow sufferers: :grouphug:
PS: years ago I hung out on the newsgroup alt.support.depression. I DON'T recommend that place if you're depressed, frankly. A dear friend and I went down to a group meet in Boston and were loudly chastised for actually talking with each other and seeming to have a good time. We were also chastised for getting better. I'm dead serious. Avoid, avoid!