First, the confession:
I will throw myself in with others who have come out of their "closets" and announced their battles with depression. My struggle began when I was a very young teenager, at about 14 years old. It has been decades now, and I am just now getting some real help with it. My own personal battles included suicidal thoughts, 2 attempts and an overwhelming feeling of total inadequacy, plus self-deprecation to the point of absurdity, and the lifetime fight with my weight, which I think is completely emotional for me. The ins and outs of my depression I won't bore anyone with here, but it has gripped me for so many years I cannot remember what it was like to not be depressed, angry (at myself). I really don't think I have ever been "happy" or close to it.
This is not the fault of my parents, except perhaps for their biochemistry. They had deep issues to deal with as they grew into adulthood--issues that were far more psychologically and physically harmful than any I ever faced. Perhaps my depression is sort of a leftover from their lives and just in my genes.
Last year, my dear mother passed away suddenly. She had been ill since I was 8 years old, when she told me she could drop dead at any moment. I was to not be afraid, but to call the doctor or my dad who would be able to help. Nice thing to live with. But she lived throughout my childhood, always ill, but always doing something for someone, always giving the listening ear, always writing just the right notes to people who needed comfort or encouragement or just a laugh. I just hope she knew how much I appreciated her presence especially during her last few years.
So, back to depression. This year my real help began. I visited a highly recommended therapist, who connected with my doctor and prescribed me some meds. One is a "happy pill" as she calls it and one is an actual anti-depressant.
Forgive me, but I'm going to go back 11-1/2 years ago to one afternoon, when I felt a fleeting glance of a moment of pure happiness. I remember exactly where we were, my new husband and I, in his new red sports car, just going somewhere casual for the evening. I really felt that "carefree" mentality for maybe a whole minute. Recognizing it was perhaps fleeting, I told myself to never forget that moment--to always remember this feeling of being happy. Perhaps if I could conjure it somehow when I really needed it I might be helped with my black cloud days. Those days I felt as if a massive dark cloud surrounded me, accompanied by a thick mental fog and even sometimes a headache. It felt as if my head were too heavy to hold upright. I couldn't see through my fog of depression to participate in life. So that moment of happiness meant a great deal to me.
Fade through to today: I am still with that same husband, approaching our 12th wedding anniversary, and with two adorable daughters (at least tonight they are adorable). My father is still alive, but then you've already read about him. For the past 2 years, I have had incredible moments of happiness, more like contentment, accompanied by a satisfaction and a kind of mental peace.
These have been few and far between, but I just realized, that I've felt content, peaceful and satisfied with my life for a solid few months now. Those moments have all added up to quite a bit of contentment, where I am now able to get up in the morning, be grateful for another day to live, and possibly maybe perhaps--could it be???---DO something. I haven't been able to do everything I want every day, though. Mrs. Therapist tells me that the depression is still there and may catch me now and then, plus it will keep me from doing some of the things I want to do, like join my family in fun events. But still, I'm doing more now than I've been able to do since my first daughter arrived.
So, today when I noticed my moment, I decided to write about it. This week I've accomplished quite a bit for me; I reorganized my bedroom, put all my clothes away, set aside for donation 5 bags and a box of clothes, shoes and toys. I even cleaned out my shoe collection (my friends can't call me a derelict Imelda anymore). It felt so free-ing, like a successful diet. I had more energy after I finished my specified tasks than when I began the project. It felt good.
So my bedroom/bathroom redo is nearly finished; I only need the floor re-covered and the outside cement poured; the lights in the shower and the hallway are next, and scraping the acoustic ceiling in the hallway and my closet (silly me, I didn't think I'd need it in my bedroom closet, cha-chink!). I, with the help of both my daughters, cleaned their bedroom this morning, took BD1 to her last swim class of the summer, took my father for a haircut and lunch (a 3 hour project), and came home exhausted. But I couldn't stop, and began working some more on the playroom. I can see floor!!
So, tonight, feeling quite content and somewhat accomplished, I get to relax. Really relax. I think I'll go sit with my family now.
