Enjoying the Present and Fearing the Past

I’m in that happy-apprehensive time that depression gives those who love someone with the illness.

It’s the time where you get glimpses of what life is without depression, the time where you relish the laughter, the little things that make you smile, the time together.

It’s also the time when you keep looking over your shoulder making sure that depression isn’t hiding around the corner.  It’s the time when you feel you are under the sword of Damocles, wondering when it will fall and change everything forever.   When something seems a bit off, you worry that the demon is coming back again, that it will engulf you before you know it.

It’s hard to sit back and relax and enjoy this time, but sometimes this is the only time we get and we need to relish it as best we can.  And enjoying it despite the apprehension is the best thing we can do to prove that depression will not conquer us.

  • Bernadette

Depression and Mildew

photosOur thanks to a mother who has and is weathering depression in her son and graciously let us post this.  Those who support those with depression have to grapple with many things others don’t see.  

It all started with cleaning out the room that had become the junk room in the basement.  Just as we began we discovered mildew, ugh!  At first it was only on a few old coats so those went in the trash.  Then suddenly it was on the covers of scrapbooks, yearbooks…precious memories.  Memories I had not thought about that much since depression entered our lives.

As the clean-up continued, I began to realize that depression has become the mildew in my life.  Silently creeping along and filling me with its grey haze.  Since then I just feel lost.   I look at those old photos and I don’t remember who I was before depression.  And I know that I cannot go back there anyway because depression has changed me.   While we were able to wipe away most of the mildew, the impact of depression cannot be wiped away.

Now the room is empty and the contents chaotically cover other rooms.  But I cannot bring myself to continue sifting through items.  What to keep, what to discard, what to donate?  It should be an easy process but it is agonizing, like I’m discarding parts of myself.  Yet, are those parts still real?  And I cannot bring myself to put anything back into that room.  As if the  mildew may be gone from that room, but depression still fills our house.

All this is happening as my son seems to be improving and learning to live with and within his depression.  Am I afraid that if he gets better then I might not have a purpose and that I might actually have to figure out who I am now.  And as I wipe away the mildew of depression and look at what is left of myself, what if I don’t like what I find?

The Elusive Illness of Depression

thermometer-833085_1280Depression is an illness that continues to amaze me. My husband has been struggling with it for almost forty years and still we can’t identify a pattern or a cause or what works best. There was a time early on where it seemed like overcoming depression was a piece of cake – he took the one pill and soon he was doing so well, feeling so good, that he thought he didn’t need the medicine any longer.

Surprise! That only opened the door for a deeper, more difficult depression. So the different medications began their parade and then the mixing of the medications to arrive at that elusive cocktail. And there were the therapist sessions and the tries at different possibilities – yoga, meditation, exercise. Even the magic light used primarily by those who suffer from seasonal affective disorder was used in the hopes that it would make a difference.

And always, when I thought we finally had it conquered, something changed, something went wrong, something happened whether that was the medicine suddenly stopped working or a fall that resulted in a concussion that caused all hell to break loose as far as the depression went.

Right now, we are still in search of that elusive cocktail and there are more moves to delve into understanding himself and the trying of new ways of dealing with the depression. And there continue to be surprises. My husband the other day announced that he had never really comprehended that depression was an illness. He had always felt guilty, that he felt he could have more control over it. Somehow, realizing that depression was an illness enabled him to say, “Today is a good day. I think I can do this and this and this…” and he would proceed to be engaged in life. The next day might mean hours spent in bed and he accepted that as a not-so-good-day of the illness. None of this behavior was new but what was new was the realization on his part and mine that depression was indeed an illness (before we only gave homage to the words) and as such, operated as most illnesses we know.

Someone with cancer has their good days and bad days. They go for chemo and they try to exercise and eat right but sometimes they just have to sit back and be, sometimes even feeling sorry for themselves. Someone with arthritis has good days and bad days. Sometimes the pain is so bad, the most they can do is sit and read; other days are so good, they play for hours with their grandkids. So too with depression which can give us energy and happiness on one day only to strip it away from us on the next.

Depression indeed is the illness that keeps surprising us day in and day out.

– Bernadette