Depression is a thief. It robs you of the ability to sleep. The ability to tell time. The ability to work, spend time with friends and family, and to see yourself for how you really are. At least, this has been my experience.
About three years ago, I was diagnosed with clinical depression. I have been on medication to help treat it, but it doesn’t always help. I still have bad days–sometimes bad weeks. Awhile back I had been having a really hard time with it. I missed work. I isolated myself from the world. Finally, my wife and my psychiatrist suggested I get more help. So I checked myself into a partial hospitalization program.
The program was very helpful. It was comprised of visits with a psychiatrist, an education course, and daily group therapy. I was also required to set myself up with an outside therapist for further treatment once the program was finished. I had had a therapist before, but we had thought I had gotten all I needed out of it before, that I had “graduated” therapy and would only need a psychiatrist. I kind of blew that.
I’m now several months out of the program and things are going better. I’m still in individual therapy, but it’s a good thing. It helps.
I have finally shared some of the details of my illness with my family and my close friends. It was hard, but a necessary part of my therapy. Believe it or not, in my private life, I’m not much of a sharer. But I share this not as a confession, but as a invitation.
If you are feeling alone and depressed, seek help. Don’t shut out your family and friends–anyone who you know cares about you when depression isn’t lying to you. Get professional help if you need it. But don’t let it eat away at you. Don’t let it steal your life away. You’re far too important to let that happen. Keep the faith. Keep fighting. Be, as the Bloggess says, “furiously happy.”