When I was young, my dad spent months in the hospital. I remember my dad in the hospital as a normal thing.
I couldn’t have picked him out of a lineup. I remember my mother driving me to my granny’s new house and telling me I needed time with my dad. I went to one of the men working to get the house ready for granny to move in. I specifically remember indecision whether I stood before my dad or not. I had not yet turned 4 at the time.
He came home with a prescription for manic depression (bipolar). You could say I come by depression honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever been manic. Over my adult life I’ve had times I consider up, and times I consider down.
The up times let me get things done. Work interests me. I’m ready to take on the world. I generally avoid making large commitments since I know the down times will come.
When down times started counting years, I got myself on antidepression medicine.
The second week of April a down time hit me. Sadness fills me: a heaviness I can’t seem to get from under. I don’t want to do anything. My work sits in my inbox, uninteresting, undone, uninitiated.
With my doctor’s approval, I’ve been weaning off the anti-depression medicine and had gotten down to taking it every 3 days. I increased my dose again and things seem better the few days.
Depression is a master which takes everything and leaves nothing, yet it demands loyalty. Before I got on the medicine, I remember sitting with people from church joking around. I laughed and felt an emotional pain like I was betraying my depression.
I don’t tell you this to bring you down or for sympathy. I tell you this so if you or someone else has depression, you can recognize it, and you can get help. A selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor freed me from the depression. Other things may help you, or someone you love.