So, here’s my confession for the day.  I have been diagnosed with major depression.  It’s something that I have been battling for my entire life it seems and I’ve been trying to do something about it for the longest time.  I’ve been on any number of combinations of antidepressants and different concoctions of various drugs to alleviate me of my symptoms.  Nothing seems to really work for me for any length of time so my doctor scraps one drug and moves on to the next.  It seems that the meds will get into my system long enough to help for a short period of time and then my body will reject whatever is in there.  I’ve been going through depression for so long that it doesn’t really bother me as much as it should.  I’ve accepted it as a way of life.

 Going through life with depression doesn’t just affect me though; it runs its bully way through my whole family.  When I’m going through a depressive episode I tend to segregate myself from the entire family.  They don’t even really notice it so much any more and have accepted it for what it is: something that I just have to go through and wait for the new meds to kick in.  How unfair is that to them, though?  It would be better for everyone if my husband could just accept the fact that what I’m going through is real and not some selfish thing that I’m trying to do to get attention brought onto myself.  He doesn’t understand.

 For years I’ve tried telling him that depression is real.  I’ve used the analogy that everyone does, “If I were a diabetic you would want me to use insulin, right?”  That kind of thing.  But, my dear husband things that if I could just pull myself up by the boot straps and pull my head out of my ass, life would be better for everyone.  I even went so far as to buy into that for a while.  I stopped my meds convincing myself that I was just using them like Dumbo’s magic feather.  I tried pulling head out of my rear and tried living my life free and clear like he wanted me to.  I did that for several years.  It didn’t work.  It was a nightmare for both of us with bad moods and crying jags on my part and major frustration on his.  He saw this as a character flaw in me.  I know that it’s not.  This is how I’ve been built and I’m doing something about it again.

 Recently I’ve started therapy.  I was fortunate enough to try out a couple of different people to see who I would be the most comfortable talking to.  Luckily, through my work we have the Employee Assistance Program and so I could do my therapist shopping for free. I chose to go to one woman because the name of her practice had something to do with spirituality, which sounded so cool and Zen to me.  When I actually talked to her I found that she was so quiet that it was hard to talk to her since I’m the same way.  When I talk to someone that I’m paying I certainly don’t want them to be anything like me.  The second lady I talked to was so much better.  She was like an older version of a cheerleader.  She gave me assignments to complete before our next session.  When I told her about how my husband wasn’t championing my cause, she was appalled.  Immediately she said she wanted to talk to him so she could teach him that depression was really a real condition and possibly give him some tips that could help both of us through my episodes. 

 When she said that, I thought, “Oh, great.  How am I going to convince this man to go to therapy for me?”  I figured I would have to be really sweet and convincing, maybe even conniving.  What I told him was that his presence was requested at my therapist’s office so she could get a better understanding of who I was as a person so she could better help treat me.  I didn’t tell him that he was about to be schooled in the art of depression as a real medical condition.  I told him that he would learn ways to cope with me.  Amazingly, he accepted the appointment and is on his way there right now.  He thinks that he’s going to tell the woman that I’ve got father issues and I need a friend.

 I’m just afraid that he’s going to find himself in for a rude awakening.  I never lie to my husband.  I feel like I just did.  I told him one thing but really he’s going to therapy to get a lecture.  Even though I’ve only had one session with this woman, I feel that I trust her enough to be kind and gentle without causing a major marital riff between my husband and me.  But, then again, she is a marriage consoler too, so maybe she’s just trying to get extra business out of us?  No, I think she’s really trying to help me get through life as smoothly as possible.  I don’t think this will hurt my marriage but enhance it to the point that maybe my husband finally understands me as a person and accepts my quirks for what they are as opposed to flaws.

 Depression is real.  If you’ve never been depressed, I would never wish it on you.  I would never wish depression on my worst enemy.  If there is someone in your life that suffers from depression, and trust me, they do suffer, so educate yourself in what they’re going through.  It’s hard on someone to go through it alone.  It’s lonely.  It’s miserable.  Even if the person is trying so hard to do something about it, do something about it with them.  That act of kindness will go a long way.  That’s how I choose to view my husband’s appointment today, an act of kindness towards me.