Depression can hit any one of us. Even celebrities.

by 

Valerie Anthrope

JK Rowling, Jim Carrey, Hugh Laurie are just a few stars who have suffered with depression. It can hit us unexpectedly or develop over time.

Mine developed over time. Crept over me like a fungus.

Valerie Anthrope

I’d always known my mother was ‘different’. Highly strung, neurotic and impulsive are the few words I learned from a young age. I think I was more like my dad: quiet, shy and preferring books to going out; Mum was always dragging Dad somewhere.

She had fads. Obesity in children had reached the headlines in the early 90s, and she was determined I wasn’t going to become one of them and put me on the Rosemary Conley’s Hip and Thigh Diet.

I was five years old.

A normal, healthy little girl who weighed barely fifty pounds (3.5 stone). She bought exercise videos and insisted I did them with her. If I didn’t work hard enough she’d cry.

If it wasn’t for Dad’s stabilising influence I’m sure I’d have issues with my weight today. Though some would say I did have a poor body image. I wore dark colours, and high-necked blouses, and tons and tons of makeup. When I was dressed in my uniform of black and thick makeup I ceased to be the vulnerable and hurting Valerie, and instead I became a cutthroat business woman.

I can remember exactly the day my life went wrong: August 17^th 1994. It was Wednesday, and half-way through the school summer holidays. I had a new baby brother, and Mum had transferred her irrational behaviour onto him, so for a few short, sweet months I was free.

Dad persuaded her that we all go to the funfair that was travelling the region that fatal day. Telling her, I deserved a treat.

It became a nightmare.

Sean, my brother, was normally a good baby, but he wouldn’t stop crying. Mum was fussing, but Dad chose that day not to pander to her. During their row and Sean’s crying, I became separated from them.

I was eight years old and terrified. The funfair was crowded and noisy, and no one noticed my plight—except for an old lady who beckoned me over. I followed her up a few steps into a caravan.

A fortune teller’s caravan.

My mind is slightly blank after that. I’m having counselling now. I can remember her telling me I was cursed, and that the curse would follow me until everyone I loved would die.

I don’t remember Dad finding me, all I know was that I was taken home and Mum, as ever, was fussing was over Sean. I was completely ignored, not because she was angry with me but because Sean was taking all of her attention. I think Dad was determined that her obsessions wouldn’t affect Sean’s childhood like it had mine. Boy, did he choose the wrong day to put his foot down! They argued. Sean cried, and I stewed alone in my room.

Then, that night, Sean died.