Yes, I get depressed

I get depressed this time each year.  No matter what I do, what I take, how jolly I try to be, I get depressed.  This isn't a blog about why I get depressed.  This isn't a blog about what I do to get by, day by day.  No, this is a blog talking about the journey.  I think it's important to understand that it is a journey.

I don't remember a time when I wasn't depressed.  As a child, I wasn't depressed every day, but I definitely was depressed from time to time.  I realize as an adult that my father was, too.  I'm not sure about the rest of my family.  As a teen, the depression escalated, and by the time I was in high school, I was depressed pretty much all the time.  I don't remember recognizing it as such, and there were many things in my life to get depressed about.  I spent my teen years thinking that sure that I was sad, and I was sure that when I grew up, found a mate, and had children, everything would clear up and life would be good.

Well, I did grow up.  I found a husband, a beautiful man named Val, and we had four children together.  I did not magically find life to be good, however.  I was still sad--depressed--and I blamed it on many different things, from finances to family to loss.  I understood that I was depressed, but I didn't realize that depression had a cause other than sad things or feelings.  A few friends suggested that I try anti-depressants, but I refused to even contemplate such a thing. I'd heard horror stories about zombies going from pill to pill and sleeping all day, and I had no desire to experience such a life.

After my husband's death (he was 36), the depression got much worse, and I was often suicidal.  I'm ashamed at the things I put my family through during this time.  I was out of control, but it was many years, even so, before I realized that I needed help.  I went so far as to try a therapist, but it was  even longer before I tried medicine.

Medicine helped.  Medicine still helps.  But medicine isn't a cure-all, and it doesn't help all the time.  I am a widow, I have suffered many things in life, and I have a hereditary disposition to depression.  Sometimes the medicine just keeps it down; it doesn't clear it up completely.  This season is one of those times.

In the past, I would "howl at the wind' about this.  I would work on my attitude, engage in uselessly angry self-talk dealing with how I'm only hurting myself, and then at other times blaming my family and my friends for not allowing themselves to be at my beck and call.  Of course, that attitude was less than useless. It was actually helpful--to the depression, that is.  The more I fumed, I cried, I worked, I blamed the worse I felt.  But one day everything changed.

I don't really know what caused it.  I want to believe that it was just time and wisdom, but I really think that it was my son, David.  He has always had a very matter-of-fact attitude (so does my son Val).  When I would try to deal with my depression, he would just say things like, "It's okay, Mom.  Don't worry about it.  I understand."  He understood?  Understood what?  So for a minute I took my mind of myself and my dealing with the depression and thought about the depression itself.

And I realized some things.  For one, the depression came every year right around the second week of December.  It might not be as bad if I was with family, but it was always there. And it went away in stages--it was much better the day after Christmas, and it was usually gone by the time school started again.

This was important to me because it gave me borders, boundaries.  I knew now not only why I felt depressed, but when I felt depressed.  And so I've been able to realize and deal with this.  I call it walking through.  Some days are better and some are worse.  If I forget to stay focused and lose myself, I can go deep into depression, but these boundaries seem to help me get out of it.

These musings are for no major reason, really.  Everyone is different and your journey may be different than mine.  But please remember that you are not alone.  If you feel that you can't take your depression any more, reach out.  Please keep reaching out till you find someone who reaches back.  I promise that there is someone there.  Honest.