Okay, as I said, I'll go ahead and prime the pump here with my own story of depression.
First off, I called this thread "In the Fight" because that's what it feels like most of the time -- I'm fighting against myself, basically just
to let myself be happy. That's how I refer to it to myself, when I'm in a "bad spot": I'm In the Fight. Anyways...
Honestly, and I don't want to sound like I'm bragging at all, but I have a pretty good life. I've got a good paying job, a beautiful wife, a nice
home, family that cares about me, a car that actually works now, etc. But still, and generally with only minimal reason, I get more miserable than
anyone ever should.
It's always with some kind of a trigger, trivial or not -- rough day at work, rejection letter from an agent, fight with the wife, whatever.
Something happens, and I just want to give up. I mean to the point where, at best, I want to just crawl into bed and sleep until I'm better, or at
worst, I seriously consider suicide. I mean to the point where I've actually researched the most efficient, convenient methods given my
capabilities, preferences, and available materials.
Its not fun, to say the least, for me or my wife. Unfortunately, as I'm sure anyone who has the joys of depression can confirm, it isn't something
you can just "snap out of". Heck, trying to snap out of it just makes it worse, more often than not -- then you not only are depressed, but you
also have the pressure of trying to be happy when you're not, just to make those around you happy. Trying to think of how so many people are worse
off than you doesn't help either; then you start beating yourself up because you're too weak to handle regular "life".
For me, work is the biggest trigger -- I don't handle stress very well, and it's still a fairly new job (April 2008), so on top of the pressure of
getting things done (and that's enough to do a lot of people in; my understanding is that there's a relatively high turn over rate here in my
department), I also have the added benefit of not knowing what's going on.
And, as an added bonus, as I alluded to above it's taking it's toll on my wife as well. When I'm miserable, of course I make her miserable, and as
strong as she is, it's starting to show. So that's a lovely cycle sometimes: I'm in a bad mood for x reason, which upsets her, which upsets me,
which ...
For my part of the "story", basically the feces truly hit the fan a few weeks ago. I overdosed on Xanax trying to escape from work, basically.
FWIW, I call it an "unintentional" overdose; it wasn't accidental, but I wasn't trying to punch my ticket either. It just didn't have the
effects I'd expected, so I kept taking more trying to get that calm-and-relaxed feeling I'd been told it would give me. Didn't happen, and I spent
three days in a chemical-dependency/psych-ward hospital.
It was interesting, and while I wouldn't do it again (at least, not that I'm thinking now), I wouldn't have traded it for the world. It was a wake
up call, told me that there was something really wrong with me. I'd already had "issues" before, but they were relatively minor compared with
this.
Anyways, I'm trying to take care of it. I'm seeing a therapist on a regular basis -- twice a week for now -- and a psychiatrist for medication.
That's the hardest part, is deciding to get help. For me, it was, at least. Admitting that it's more than just being a bit in the dumps, that it
was something I needed to talk to a professional about.
That's a big difference too -- talking to a professional instead of just griping to your friends. For one thing, you put a lot of weight on
someone's shoulders by depending on them like that. A professional, well, that's their job. A friend can give you a leg to stand on, but they
can't necessarily teach you how to walk again.
Well, that's my story, kinda. Not really much of a story, more of an essay almost, I guess, but that's it in a nutshell. The floor's open if
anyone else wants to take a swing.


