It was two weeks ago yesterday that I had a mental and emotional meltdown. I have had many over the years, but it was always in private and this one was the worst it’s ever been. I was on the back porch talking to my wife and it just happened. It was an overwhelming sadness that had been building for quite some time and it came pouring out. It scared me as much as it did her. She reacted with shock and empathy as she is a very caring, sympathetic person. “Do you think you need some medication?” my wife asked. I nodded my head yes. “Do you think you should talk to some one?” she asked. I again nodded my head. The following morning I called in to work. I told my boss that I thought is was best if I just stayed home that day. I told him it was related to my depression. The day of my meltdown, I had told him in great detail that my job was killing me. I told him I was not well and my illness was affecting everything in my life. He saw my point and seemed to empathize with me. My wife could tell that I was slowly creeping away and in retrospect, I should have told her how bad my depression had actually gotten, instead of letting it get to the point that it eventually did. I didn’t want to worry her so I kept it to myself. Depression is a hard thing to hide, at least for me. I’m not a very good actor or liar. My wife made me an appointment that morning to see our family doctor and a psychiatrist. I went back to bed. 

We had just recently chosen this doctor and it was my first visit to her. I was told to be there early to fill out the necessary paperwork and along with the usual insurance forms, there was a sheet attached to a clipboard where patients were to sign in with a line that read, reason for visit. I wrote depression knowing I would be explaining in detail the nature of my illness. I had to fill out one form that was used to gauge the severity of my depression and another form to see if I was bi-polar. I know I’m not bi-polar and the test revealed that I wasn’t. The other test revealed that I was severely depressed and that is something I already knew. My doctor asked me if I was suicidal and I said I wasn’t. My wife would ask me that same question many hours later. I left the doctor’s office with a six week supply of anti-depressants. Upon returning home, I went back to bed and slept the rest of the day.

I returned to work the next day against my better judgment. I felt as though I was at rock bottom on the misery scale. It was Friday and I had a lot of work to catch up on. It was then that I decided I wouldn’t be coming back to work the next week. The owner of the company I work for sat down at my desk and had a talk with me early that morning. I told him I needed the next week off and he said ”No problem.” He also told me he didn’t mind paying me more and that he also didn’t mind giving me a bonus. He did both and although I appreciated it, it still didn’t make me feel any better that day. I was too far down. I went home that night and slept for 3 days.

It’s hard for others to understand what it’s like to feel so miserable all the time if they themselves have never suffered a crippling depression. It’s like trying to empathize with a guy with no legs. You really just have to use your imagination, but unless you have no legs, you won’t know exactly what it’s like. I really laid it all out for my boss, who I’ve known for 8 years, and although he has never been in my position, he had this to say:

“… right now I feel that you are dead inside, and that your soul is crying out for help.”

I was dead inside. I still am to a degree. I don’t want to be sad. I don’t want to be eaten up with stress, frustration, and misery. I want to be happy and healthy. To the un-depressed, I’m sure it seems as though I’m making things worse than they really are or that maybe I’m choosing to feel like shit everyday of my life, but that just isn’t so.  My wife is very understanding and she also suffers from depression and I don’t know what I would do without her, but she can only take so much of my load for me. She still has her low times too. She takes 4 times the amount of anti-depressants that I take. We are two sad souls united by marriage. She and I know what it’s like to feel as though we are going to die from misery. I know from here on out I will have my good days and bad days and that there really is no cure for my condition, but in spite of it all I still have hope. That’s a hell of a thing to have, isn’t it? 

I’ve been talking to my friend in Florida via email. He is 15 years my senior and has been through his fair share of shit. He has been acting as my free therapist and although he holds no medical degree, he has certainly earned his PHD in the school of life. He doesn’t have all of the answers and I don’t expect him to, but he makes me think and I trust him. He doesn’t offer me pity, only understanding and empathy. I really don’t have anyone other than him and my wife that I can really relate to. I’m not really close to my friends anymore and even if I were close to them still, they just wouldn’t understand. They would recite the same well rehearsed speech. Somehow I just know. 

Well, it takes one to know one and I know a lot of you out there have seen your fair share of depression. You got through the rough times and so will I. Not only because I want to, but also because I have to.