Depression, many people experience it at some time in their life. A death, a divorce, loss of a job. But some are more than depressed. Some are clinically depressed. It can happen to anyone. 1 in 5 Americans experience clinical depression at some point. More common in women than men. The cause is unclear, genetics, brain chemistry, life events and other diseases can play a part and add to it. There is still so little known about the brain.
Many people with depression do not seek treatment. They either don't know they have it or fear the social stigma of mental illness. Trust me, attorneys suffer from clinical depression, various CEO's do too, actors do, doctors do, artists, professors, fire fighters, various people from various walks of life.
Expanding on my last post, I checked myself into a psychiatric ward (yes, the "psych ward") Tuesday, March 22, 2011. My husband left for a weekend to put his words together to form sentences and answers to my questions as to why he didn't think he could "do this anymore" and what we can do to try and heal what is broken. Little did I know, he was spending that weekend finding an apartment, signing a three month lease and going on a furniture spending spree at IKEA. He was expected home Sunday, but didn't come home and after a phone call with him that evening my gut told me he was leaving me and my mind went to a place I didn't recognize in myself.
Monday night Matt, my husband, was expected home once again after he finished work. He was late, and then later, and then even later. I know now he didn't want to tell me he had left and got an apartment and asked my mother to tell me. Mom laid into him pretty good telling him this was his decision and he needed to tell me himself. (That really should have been my first sign that my husband has no balls.)
He finally arrived, told me the news and after a long conversation, the end result was for him to work on himself and me to work on myself and in a few months, at the end of his lease, we would come back together to see if it was time to try again.
The next day, following the advice of Mom and my family doctor, I checked into the "psych ward". You see, I have lived with clinical depression for the past 8 years. In my past I've been to see 2 psychologists, one marriage counselor and my family doctor has had me on various antidepressants. My thoughts never really went to suicide before.
But, I'm not THAT bad. Am I? I pictured straight jackets, zombies over-medicated and over electric shocked. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Girl Interrupted, so to speak.
This was my beginning. MY beginning. And an end?