I never thought it could happen to me. I was living the American dream: six-figure job before thirty, bought a home in my mid-twenties, met a wonderful woman agreed to take my hand in marriage. But it's all gone now...much of it attributable to my struggle with depression. I was a typical overachiever that thought it was a phase, something I would eventually "get over." Even my former wife thought it was more, but I didn't see it. Eventually she left, asked for a divorce, and I went spiraling downward even further. Since then, I've been in a fog, barely able to function much of the time, for a year-and-a-half. A year-and-a-half! Gone! And I can never get that time back.
Yesterday was the fist day I went to see a therapist, and was told the obvious...I have much work to do, but I can get better. I have given in to taking whatever help I can get, including medication. That's been a b ig step for me. I've never been a pill popper, but bring 'em on if it's going to help, because I need to climb out of this hole...strike that...canyon (as in Grand)...and get back to the person I used to be, the person I can be. And I need to do it before I get fired and lose my health benefits.
Doing anything beyond basic chores and feeding myself has sometimes been a challenge. Work has been nearly impossible. The only reason I haven't been fired is because I work on commission. I've burned through so much savings (another stressor) that I feel guilty spending any money, even on things that may lift my spirits. Lately, it seems my entire day has revolved around just trying not to climb back into bed and shut out the world, hoping tomorrow is the day I wake up and miraculously feel all better. There have been periods throughout the day, even stretches of days, where I have started to feel like my old self: confident, social, optimistic. But those feelings never seem to stick. If anything, it gives me a false reality, leading to denial that I need external help. But I've come to realize, I can't do this on my own. I didn't get here overnight, and I won't get out of it overnight either. But I'm trying to cling to hope...hope that I can be like those "other people," the ones I see at the coffee shop, chatting, smiling, and laughing with friends. Or the ones I see on the bike trail, truly enjoying their ride, rather than enduring it like I do, an arduous attempt to lift my spirits. I yearn for the time when I will be a shining example of what life can be, after depression.
