Wendy, it sounds like life is looking up for you. Breathe in the fresh air!

Someday I hope that this weakness can be made a strength, but I wonder if it’s like Paul’s “thorn in the flesh”–something to keep me humble, to “bring me to my knees.”

I’m fairly certain that if I don’t improve, my doctor will recommend the psyche unit. I avoided it last year by a hair, by my husband making all kinds of promises.

I never thought of it as a disease, I thought of it as a weakness, a shortcoming and I hated myself even more when I couldn’t get up or focus. Now I’m starting to recognize it for what it is, a true illness.

I don’t like having it, I hate it. I hate what it does to my family. I hate that I’m not as productive as I wish to be.

#12, I do that, I get screwed up and remember that I need to take care of myself if I want to survive.

#7 Ashley, I don’t take offense at your comments. I think they’re totally valid. I feel sorry for my husband and my kids, it can’t be easy for them. I try to do as much as I can to avert any impact on them. But the fact is sometimes I need care more than I need to give care. I hate it, but if I don’t accept and honor that, I’m no good to anyone.

My doctor commented that I was very talkative last time I went to him and I told him that I’m always talkative no matter my mood (some of you know that already . I can fake it and hide it pretty well.
When I attempted suicide last year, many people were downright shocked. Because even in the midst of complete despair, I can make a joke. I can laugh and make other people laugh.

I’m still going for the right medicine, Cymbalta has been a lifesavewr, but my doctor wants me to try another “lifesaver.”

You guys, this is not joke. It’s real. And it’s real for everyone, the caregiver as well as the ill person. I know my husband has been through hell.

I think we should make an official club. Maybe we could do a daily gratitude list. I ried that once with a couple of bloggers who are my friends and we were so depresssed we forgot! LOL.

Good post.

What I’m learning is that I can’t hide FROM it.

Regarding depression, I find myself in a peculiar situation in that, for the first time in almost seven years, I am “balanced” — I’m not on meds, and I feel fine, even great. But having been there makes me wary that it’s around the corner, and how long will it last then?

My experience has been this. Depression is like living in a black hole. Living with someone who is depressed can be like living with a black hole. The worst part is that usually that person has no idea that his or her depression affects the rest of the family. I will never forget the look of complete astonishment on my spouse’s face when I finally told him that his depression affected me too. And as I saw it get worse and affect our kids more noticeably I realized I had to talk frankly about depression with them so they would know that the things going on with our family were not at all their fault.

As much as I mourn the things I feel I have lost or still lack because of the effects of depression, I am grateful that I have suffered from it myself. It helps me understand the reality and the realness of it. I wish those people who find it so easy to judge and who say “Snap out of it” could walk a mile in any of our shoes so they would know this is not something we choose.

God bless all of you. It is not an easy path. And unlike the rallying around I wiitness when someone is diagnosed with a more physical and less mental and emotional issue, this path is usually walked very much alone.

And is it just PPD? I always wonder –are my other non-pregnancy/nursing emotional explosions just PMS related? Or do I have something deeper?

It is so important to treat with fairness the things that we don’t understand. Once, I started to write a personal essay about growing up with my mother’s depression. A wise mentor told me that until I could treat it fairly, I shouldn’t write about it. That was so hard to hear…because I felt like what was fair was sharing my feelings about feeling deprived of a “normal” and more loving childhood. I felt like it was fair to share how I had felt lonely for so long. I had not felt like I was attacking or blaming my mother in any way…but now, years after that writing attempt, I can see that I was viewing depression through my own lens, which was horribly discolored.

Ironically, while I have compassion on my mother’s depression, I blame my older brother for his depression, in some ways, because he appears to be trying a lot less than my mother did. So, I feel similarly to Ashley. I want to scream at him to DO something. But he won’t. After one suicide attempt, I fear another one is coming. The helpless I feel creates an enormous amount of anger that is almost uncontrollable at times.

Caregivers are miracle workers in that they have to be smart enough to refill their own source of light to continue to be able to share. I’ve had many people help me on the way, and I do mean many. I worked HARD trying to get healthy. I’m fully back on my feet and there are a lot of the people that helped me that have dropped off and I have to accept that is a part of their giving as well. Some cannot fully understand the illness or they are wise enough to know their limits when it comes to supporting one who is suffering mental illness.

An MD once said the hardest thing in treating depression is to keep a patient on their meds. It’s so easy to feel a false sense of security and it is honorable to attempt to be whole minus the aide of meds, but it truly does backfire. My doctor says that if you’ve been a candidate for meds 3xs that you should most likely stay on them for a lifetime. Accepting that about myself has really allowed me much freedom in accepting this as the illness it is.

No one likes to feel like they are being taken advantage of and the shame of needing people is so humbling. Those situations marry and cause a lot of dark thoughts on top of existing fear and shame. It is not easy being or being with the depressed, we know that. It is embarassing to know you may never be stable again, or to know you could relapse and be branded with a hurtful title. It is a tedious tightrope walk for all of us.

That is the gift and the deepening of the soul.

I want to underscore Maralise’s comments about the difficulty of living with a person with depression. I’ve experienced that too. And that’s no fun either. It’s a trial just as significant as depression itself, if you ask me.

Also–there are many degrees of depression. Mild depression can respond well to distraction or “starving.” It’s important, though, not to assume that such measures can significantly help in more severe cases. It’s kinda like, eating well will help anyone feel relatively better, and if you’ve got a little cold or you’re lethargic it might make a marked difference, but if you’ve got terminal cancer–well, don’t expect nutrition to save the day.

Finally, I want to thank every person who tries their best to show love to a depressed person. Sharlee, I’m glad your friend has you.