[QUOTE=tdn]
At first I was a bit incredulous at this. How the hell can you not know the signs? But in thinking about it, it must be really insidious. Apathy comes on as comfort a lot of times. And anger and depression sometimes come off as just a bad day. It must be really hard to tell the difference sometimes.
[/QUOTE]
Yeah, Sunspace has it right.
The thing is, it doesn’t happen all at once. Depression is a sneaky bastard; it creeps up on you. For me, I was in the middle of money worries. Being laid off a month early meant missing out on $1800 in wages and having to pony up nearly $400 a month for COBRA. It meant I had to sit down and get all the paperwork figured out for making unemployment claims, and cross my fingers that I wasn’t disqualified because I also had a part-time job as well.
The painful medical procedure? It was a colposcopy - that is, checking for possible cervical cancer. So, there’s the stress of a cancer scare, and on top of that, the GYN should have used a local anesthetic for the biopsy and didn’t. I was literally white knuckling and crying through the ordeal. It took me about twenty minutes afterwards to put my composure back together and make my way home. I cried for three days, and there really wasn’t anyone to take care of me.
The trip home to my parents was supposed to be a joyful relaxing visit - just long enough to catch up and just short enough to take off before we got on each others’ nerves. Instead, on the second evening, I’m having to call all my siblings to tell them Dad’s in the hospital. It’s a stroke. We don’t know how bad. When I wasn’t at the hospital helping take care of him, I was taking care of my mom, including walking her through a Suze Orman living trust and will kit so that - God forbid - should my father be lost to us, Mom could take care of things with a minimum of fuss. (BTW, he recovered fully in less than a month’s time, and he damn well better watch his blood pressure now.)
Each event was another load on my shoulders. Being physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted was normal. Feeling like I would never catch up, and why does all this shit happen to me, it must be because I’m a bad person and deserve it filled my head on a constant basis. The insomnia made things worse, and on top of that, as soon as I got back home, I had to hit the ground running at my part time teaching job, because my principal was counting on me.
All of that, I could chalk up to stress, because God knows facing up to and dealing with a bout of depression was more than I could handle at the time. It requires making calls, getting appointments, filling prescriptions, and taking care of myself when all I want to do is curl up in a ball underneath my bed and stay away from the big bad world that hurts me.
It was the suicidal ideation that finally got my attention. Speculating on ways to kill yourself so it looks like an accident so your family doesn’t have to deal with a suicide is neither normal or healthy. There was no excusing that as just stress. And since suicidal ideation leads to suicidal impulses, there was no ignoring it either. No matter how bottomed out my psyche is, I can still recognize how much pain my death would cause my loved ones, and if nothing else, that obligation will make me get on my feet and go get some help.
Looking back on things, I’m amazed at how well I coped and how I just kept going. I have to give myself credit. I often get down on myself for how little I’ve accomplished by my age, especially considering the resources I have. But then, I have to stop and remember that about once a year I get ganked by the complete and utter crap that happens to me as well as a brain that just doesn’t handle serotonin as well as others do. The fact that I keep getting back up, dusting myself off, and trying again is as much a testament to my character as any other accomplishment.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
