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Depression and Me
I do not know when I began suffering from depression.
I do know when my wife Nancy told me that she was suffering
from my depression. She told me that I had become withdrawn,
somewhat reclusive, and easily angered when my “comfort” was
broken or my routine was changed—even by small
things like requests for fixing things or doing errands.
I
did not act on this right away. I suppose it was denial
and the mistaken idea that a master’s
degree social worker could “fix it himself”.
So things went along and evidently changed only for
the worse until a few months later Nancy gave me a
further report (ultimatum) on my depression as she
saw it. I consulted with my doctor at my next visit
and he prescribed a medication and told me that if
it helped that I was probably depressed. This seemed
logical to me. I must have been depressed as the medication
helped some, according to Nancy.
Years passed with
one increase in the dosage of my medicine. I was depending
on Nancy and my best friend
(also in depression) for observation and reporting
on my behavior. I needed observation and pressure from
others.
Retirement added to my problems. I began to
feel useless and a sense of failure began as I looked
for part-time
work and was very unsuccessful. Rejection added to
the feelings and I finally asked my doctor for a referral
for therapy. I began seeing my therapist almost immediately
and saw him once a week for almost a year. We determined
that my expectations of myself had been unrealistic
for most of my life and were fueling my depression.
I began to expect less of myself and to forgive myself
more. I am still taking a prescribed medication and
life is better according to Nancy, my friends, and
me.
My advice would be to help others to get help for
depression if you care about them and to get help for
yourself
if you suspect that your depression is hurting those
around you. Don’t put it off—years in depression
are lost years in many ways. Don’t remain isolated—feeling
alone just magnifies depression.
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