Hello Carpenter56.
You have had some good advice in coping with the practicalities of stoma management. However, the title of your post is 'depression', which I suspect is one of the main reasons you are conversing with us.
You are certainly not alone in trying to cope with this aspect of having and managing a stoma. I have used writing to help clarify my own thinking about all aspects of stoma life including depression, and I will share with you a couple of rhymes which helped me at the time.
They may not help you directly, but at least you will know that you are not alone in how you feel.
Best wishes
Bill
DEPRESSED.
I’ve got the right to be depressed
if I do not feel at my best.
Just as I might have felt quite happy
when my life was not so crappy.
You bet I’m sad when things go bad
and ponder yonder life I had.
I can’t help but count the cost
of the life that I’ve now lost.
When thinking of the nitty-gritty
I’m exhausted with self-pity.
I feel that’s justifiable
whilst things aren’t rectifiable.
My mind stays open and plays host
to most unkind and callous ghosts.
When they do their heartless haunting
then I feel ‘all’ life is daunting.
Most of the ghosts contrast my past
which makes me even more downcast.
As I reminisce for hours
depression comes and overpowers.
Harking back to yesterday
doesn’t make it go away.
In fact it acts in the reverse
making depression that much worse.
I know things in my life go wrong
but I must keep on being strong.
So now I think I really ought
to rid myself of bad, sad thought.
I’ve got the right to be depressed
if I do not feel at my best
but maybe if I fake the happy
my life may not feel quite so crappy.
B. Withers 2013
DEPRESSION.
Pre-stoma days I’d the impression
there was no way I’d get depression.
For I was looking forward to
a new and painless way to poo.
After suffering all those years
so often coming close to tears.
The prospect of relief from pain
gave me belief in life again.
I thought I ought to be prepared
and not get caught a little scared.
I did not know the seeds of doubt
might grow in me and then sprout out.
But after they had nicely hid
that’s precisely what they did.
They must have stayed and laid in wait
in some sort of dormant state.
That was until I had the op.
because it’s then it would not stop.
Depression filled my battered brain
when once instilled by hurt and strain.
I could not cope with what I’d lost
and did not count emotional cost.
I had a sort of disbelief
at being caught in all that grief.
I’m sure it was when colon went
and all my energy was spent.
That’s when my depression started
at the time my colon parted.
But over time I have adjusted
in my stoma I have trusted.
So now I’ve had it quite a while
sometimes I might be seen to smile.
B. Withers 2013