Depression Is A Bitch

You have read about it in the newspapers, on the internet and/or heard about it on your television every other day. But what is depression? Quite frankly, depression is a bitch, and chances are great that someone close to you has it.

I have suffered from depression for over twenty years now, according to the doctors I saw in the Army and now V.A. In the beginning, I would tell you that “I do not have depression.” I felt good most of the time, and only felt down ever so often. Just enough for someone to ask what was wrong with me. This I call the first stage where it is not really noticeable or obvious unless you are either very familiar with the individual or paying specific attention to that person's behavior.

It did not don on me until the night I secretly attempted suicide. I say secretly because I took some medication I was prescribed for pain without anyone's knowledge and increased the dosage to a level I thought would take me out. It was working. My heart skipped a beat about three times. It was at this point that I got scared, and confided in one person I trusted. He stayed with me, keeping me alert.

When my heart skipped a beat, reality started setting in. The second time it skipped, I began to panic and told my friend what I had done. All I could imagine was total blackness. A finality that I was not ready to meet.

From what I can ascertain, I took enough pills to kill me, but only if I had resigned and went to sleep. No fight. Just slip into the darkness. There was too much time involved, too much time to think and let reality sink in. I was blessed for my stupidity.

For me, at the time, I really don’t think I wanted to die.

I began therapy with Mental Hygiene that year. For a long time I figured that it was just the stress I was under at the time, and everything was fine. It was just before this episode that I began having unexplained chronic pains. It was not blamed on depression until I filed for disability compensation from the V.A. They put me on multiple anti-depressants.

My bouts with depression had me listless, unable to sleep properly, unmotivated to do anything, not want to get out of bed, and seeking solitude. When I did sleep, it was so deep it was hard to wake me. Now I do not go too far from my home while in my hometown, but I still travel out of the state. I have taken my family to Baltimore, MD; Orlando, FL; Dallas/Fort Worth, TX; Port Lavaca, TX; Killeen/Fort Hood, TX; and Branson, MO. Once we arrived, I hardly left our motel room.

I am afraid of the affects this is having on my family. I mean, I do everything within my powers to insure that my children’s lives are much more enriched than when I was their age; but I know it has to affect them some how. My moods, staying home most of the time, no friends or outside family stopping by. And well, everything.

I do not want to be depressed, but I do not know how to actively stop it. I am not even sure how it started, but suicide is no longer an option. My children are my motivators for this. Whenever I feel like leaving, I think about how much they need me, and my dark thoughts slip into that good night. I have had to learn how to live with it. Key word is live.

This is why according to the Last Partner, depression is a bitch.