Hope in the Death-Shadowed Valley

15 April 2019 was the lowest point in my life: I was booked into a mental health clinic.  By that time, the depressive episode was so bad, I had difficulty putting suicidal thoughts out of my mind.  All of this was two months before Lydia and I would get married... So... how did I end up here?

Looking back now, I probably struggled with my mental health from late primary school.  The complicated factor here is: If you've felt really low for long enough, you believe that this is your baseline, your normal.  This makes it difficult to acknowledge that you have a problem in the first place.

In high school, I excelled academically and did well in music, but I could never truly celebrate my successes.  My failures and rejection/teasing from my peer group is what stung me the most.

2006 I started at Timothy Ministry Team's Bible school (TMT) in Wellington.  My time was characterised by a lot of solitary prayer walks during depressive episodes.  Fortunately, some people pulled me in and their loved cushioned the blow.

2008 was my first year at Stellenbosch University, studying BSc in the hopes of one day becoming a Science Teacher.  Again the depressive episodes and frequent prayer walks persisted, but something new also popped up: In my final year, I began failing subjects.  I was so stressed before examinations, that I had to go on frequent prayer walks to calm myself down.  Later on, the anxiety also affected my concentration in class.  I had to rewrite my final Physiology Exam and had to take the Dean's Exam for failing Genetics.

After completing the BSc, I felt God leading me back to TMT to work there while I studied by Postgraduate Certificate in Education.  This is where the wheels started falling off: I struggled to fall asleep due to the persistent anxiety.  Some nights I managed only 20 minutes of sleep.  For the rest of the night I laid awake, trying to read and pray to calm myself down.

One night at my parents' place in the Strand, I woke them in the middle of the night to tell them what was happening.  They were very concerned.  My mother made an appointment for me at her psychiatrist and I got my first prescription for anti-depressants.  After taking the first tablet, I still clearly remember that feeling later in the day: oh... this is what joy feels like! I had become so used to operating at 4/10 that I didn't know what 6/10 felt like.  But this wasn't the parting of the clouds.  This was the start of a storm...

I started working as a teacher in 2013.  At times the anxiety so intense, I had to go to the bathroom and lock myself in the toilet to cry.  Something was wrong.

Being a Christian, I sought a specialist in Blouberg who was also a Christian.  I felt comfortable that he could address the spiritual side of things as well.  I was with him for three years and we basically treated the severe anxiety with Xanor (periodically) to help me sleep at night during high times of stress.

For some reason, I felt in 2015 that this would be a great time to start studying an MBA... Gosh, why!?... Initially I could cope emotionally with the work load and the pressure, but in my final year in 2018 the anxiety was so severe, I couldn't make enough progress on my thesis.  I took an extension for the thesis for the next year.

At the time, I was also conducting the school choir of the high school I was working at.  During one of our trips to George my wheels started coming off again: an incident with parents caused some stress and I had such severe anxiety that I only managed two hours of sleep that night.

When we got back from the trip, I confided in a friend of mine regarding the parents and the stress.  Being a clinical psychologist, she could help me see that my treatment wasn't a good fit and  she referred me to a good  psychiatrist.  (This friend of mine is now my beloved wife, Lydia.)

With my psychiatrist, we continued with the previous medication for depression, but I just wasn't getting any better.  In fact, I just got worse.  Eventually the situation deteriorated until I hit rock bottom in April 2019.  My thoughts were so dark, that I couldn't get suicidal notions out of my head. I hit a 0/10.  Lydia immediately arranged an emergency consultation with her psychiatrist, Piet Oosthuizen.  Apparently, I wasn't experiencing "anxiety", but rather something called agitation.

Agitation is the feeling that your internal wheel is spinning way too fast: Your thoughts are racing and you feel highly strung.  Agitation is not typical for a pure depressive episode, but more for a mixed episode: a high AND a low at the same time.  Furthermore, the mixed episode is common among those with bipolar disorder.

We realised that I was misdiagnosed: I didn't have depression.  I had bipolar mood disorder.  (The same diagnosis as my mom. Apparently, it's strongly genetic.)  I only later learned that my antidepressant medication (SSRI's) are actually toxic for a person with a bipolar diagnosis.  The medication contributed to the downward spiral. 

I cannot remember much about the clinic. We could only afford two nights.  I was given a shot to "reboot" my brain chemistry and then the (long) road to healing began:

My high school graciously gave me off for two weeks.  My dad came down from their home in George and we stayed with my aunt on their farm in Paarl.  My wife drove through every day after work. I was still a mess. My dad forced me to take a walk om the farm with him every day.  I met weekly with my psychologist, but I was angry at him for the slow progress: after two weeks I still felt like a 2/10.  He reassured me that it takes time for the brain chemistry to totally adjust: as long as I didn't get any worse, it was a good sign.

I went back to work still feeling totally overwhelmed, depressed and anxious. My psychologist helped me to break my life down into smaller chunks: getting through each day seemed too hard; getting through each hour seemed too hard. So, I broke down my days into half-hour slots.  I would just focus on getting through the next 30 minutes...

Life continued dragging on like this for one full month. On about 15 May 2019, it felt for the first time as if, through the thunder clouds, a ray of light broke through. My mood lifted to 4/10.  When I mentioned this to my fiancé she was overjoyed! This was her personal prayer: "God, please let Kobus get better one month before our wedding."  We got married while I was still feeling low, but we both had a sense that God was with us and that He wanted us to be together.

In August 2019 the clouds started to part.  My mood was up to 6/10.  From there, on the right medication, things just got better and better.

I am so grateful for the way God has lead me through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. I am grateful that he sent my wife over my life with perfect timing.  I am grateful for every doctor who tried to help me.  I am grateful for my parents who supported me as best they knew how.  I am grateful for my church leaders and friends who prayed for me and encouraged me every step of the way.

My message to those who struggle with their mental health?

1. Go see a professional psychiatrist and psychologist.

2. If you get a mental health diagnosis, phone your medical aid and apply for Personal Minimum Benefits (PMB).  This will allow you a certain amount of appointments for a psychiatrist and psychologist each year.

3. Draw close to God and church friends.  I don't regret a single prayer walk I did.  In fact, I would have been in an even worse place if I didn't cling to God.

4. Have patience with the process.  The recovery process is not a matter of days or weeks, but a matter of months.  Do what you can to set yourself up for recovery and then... be patient and persevere.