It was this time a few years ago that I came to a crossroads. I was in the midst of my PD (post-divorce) season of healing. I was seeing significant progress in my recovery AND my self-discovery. It was an exciting, although painful, season. But, as I began to be made more and more aware of who I was, what made me tick, etc, I noticed something.
For as far back as I could remember, EVEN INTO MY CHILDHOOD, I had this sense of gloom. My divorce only made things worse. I would wake up each morning, dreading the day. The best way I could describe it was that I was functioning inside of a “black cloud.” As each day would go on, the black cloud would somewhat dissipate, but, like clockwork, it would return the next day.
Now that I became aware of this, I took a drive across Colorado to visit my oldest sister. I had a five-hour trip to put my finger on what, exactly, I wanted to say. All I knew is that I didn’t want to live that way any more.
By the time I arrived in my hometown in western Colorado, I knew what I needed to declare. The words weren’t easy to spit out, but I needed to say them, “Sis, I think I’ve been fighting with depression. For a long time.”
You see, it was so hard to get those words out for a couple of reasons.
1.) My family of origin – My parents were old school when it came to dealing with issues. You either dealt with it “in-house” or you swallowed hard and kept silent, thinking that you could pull yourself out of any mess by your own boot straps. We never discussed mental illness at all during my growing up years except in reference to the hypochondriac, manipulative, angry aunt who raised my mother. But apart from that, the subject never came up. I had no frame of reference, no way to know what was normal or not in terms of depressed feelings. Regarding the need for any kind of counselor, totally out of the question. I’m sure if I would have asked to see a psychologist as a kid, my parents would have looked at my like I had 13 1/2 hands and three noses.
2.) I’m a guy – Not to over-generalize, but most guys don’t talk about their feelings. Not necessarily because we don’t want to, but mostly because we don’t always know what it is that we are feeling. Those pesky things called emotions are so hard to put a finger on, that it’s easier to keep quiet about instead of looking like a bumbling idiot who doesn’t know what’s going on in his own self. For me, I was scared to death to put a label on what I was feeling, because of how SERIOUS DEPRESSION IS.
But, because my five-hour trip gave me the courage to put into words what it was that I was battling, I knew I had to tell someone about this internal wrestling match.
My sister and I, and a high school friend and I, had several good conversations that weekend. By the time I left that part of Colorado to head back to Colorado Springs, I was resolved to do something about this “black cloud” of depression.
Upon returning, I met with a recommended psychologist to get some testing done. This was done on the following Friday. The doctor who administered the tests felt that my situation was serious enough that she needed to call me the next day, instead of waiting until Monday.
She explained that there is a spectrum of depression, where on one end a person is pretty much depression free. On the opposite end of this spectrum, you have severe clinical depression. She described what the few middle notches on the spectrum were like. She asked me where I thought I was on this scale. I honestly answered, “Oh, somewhere just beyond the middle of the spectrum, I guess.”
She explained to me in detail that, no, I didn’t have things that good. She said that I was on the far end of the scale, and that I needed help, and fast. She suggested getting on medication as well as undergoing some counseling.
I was especially nervous about taking any kind of antidepressant. Again, my lack of knowledge paved the road to fear. So, after doing some research, and talking with my new core circle of friends, I came to realize how brain chemistry worked, and that taking an antidepressant was the equivalent to a diabetic taking insulin for health’s sake.
Fast Forward A Few Weeks
It usually takes a handful of weeks for Zoloft to kick in, but when it kicked in, it made such a HUGE difference. I remember the morning like it was this morning.
Instead of waking up with this “black cloud” surrounding me, instead of feeling paralyzed to do what I needed to do that day, I woke up early, about 5am. While I was lying there in my bed, it struck me. “Wow!” I thought. “Is this what it feels like to be happy and undepressed?” As I took inventory of my mental faculties, I began to laugh. Not because my situation was funny, but because I felt for the first time a major sense of relief.
Are antidepressants a fix-all? No. But, under the right circumstances, they can be a life-saver. Was I permanently healed? No. Again using the diabetes analogy, the diabetic has to use insulin long-term to maintain their body’s needs. It could very well be that I need to remain on Zoloft the rest of my life. Honestly, I’m okay with that.
Are Meds Enough?
The best one-two punch in dealing with depression is careful medication coupled with counseling. Being able to get that extra set of eyes that can look into your life objectively is a significant part in making sense of depression, ESPECIALLY FOR MEN.
Don’t Get Cold Feet
If you even have a tiny clue that you might be dealing with depression (if you’re divorced, divorcing, or on the rocks, chances are you ARE dealing with some level of depression), Google the counselors and psychologists in your area. Just do it. Don’t overthink it. When you’re depressed, you can talk yourself out of almost anything. Just do it.
Beyond that, find at least ONE trusted person in your circle of influence, a friend, relative, coworker, etc, that you can say to them, “I think I’m battling depression.” Get those words out. Then, you can have a compassionate ally on your side who can understand you and help you get the treatment you need. Don’t chicken out on this part of it.
Don’t Buy It…
Don’t buy into the notion that men aren’t supposed to be depressed
Don’t buy into the notion that you are weak for admitting you are depressed
Don’t buy into the notion that there is no hope for your situation
Don’t buy into the notion that you are less of a human being, less of a man, because you are seeking treatment for mental illness
Don’t buy into the notion that counseling is for wimps
Don’t buy into the notion that antidepressants are evil and aren’t to be trusted
Guys, regarding the war against mental illness, and specifically YOUR BATTLE WITH DEPRESSION, with the right help, YOU’VE GOT THIS. Hang in there.
Your Brother in the Battle,