thinking about depression, in the wake of Robin Williamss suicide. If indeed we need to be open about this, to remove the stigma of mental illness and help people seek treatment without being accused of moral failings, then here goes. About four or five years ago, I was diagnosed with dysthymia (now called Persistent Depressive Disorder), a chronic, relatively low-grade depression. Most of the time, it manifested as a general, unremitting unhappiness that dulled my ability to function in almost every way. At its worst, it would lead me into some pretty dark despair, where little more than my innate stubbornness kept me from giving up entirely. I consider myself tremendously fortunate, first, that when I sought counseling for some other issues, the counselor recognized the symptoms of my depression, and second, that it is (for now) entirely manageable with a daily dose of St. Johns Wort. Getting the depression out of the way has enabled me to move on to deal with other issues (both psychological and medical) whose symptoms the depression was masking. I know that not everyones depression is so easily managed, although if I ever think myself healed, a day or two without my pills shows me otherwise. I certainly know that there are many people out there still struggling in shame and frustration with feelings that they dont understand. Persistent Depressive Disorder has its own insidiousness, rarely sinking to the depths of a dramatic breakdown or creating a total inability to function. Instead, its victims soldier on, knowing they dont feel right, but without hope that it can get better. To these my comrades, I say (as Robin Williams said in Good Will Hunting): Its not your fault. Its not your fault. Dare to hope.
Posted on: Tue, 12 Aug 2014 20:10:50 +0000
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