Defining My Depression

Depression is an insidious thing. Until it hits you hard enough, you don’t personally realize you have it…others might see it, but so often, it is called something else.

The EARLIEST I can actually now identify the fact that I had issues with depression was back when I was around 12 years old. But, when I was a child, children didn’t get depressed, or, at least, they were never given a diagnosis of depression.

That was my case.

I was doing all sorts of physically destructive things that were on the minor end of the scale and my pediatrician (who I adored) identified as being ‘nervous about something’.  My mother was told to see how she might help me feel more relaxed about things going on in my life.

To my mother’s credit, she was a great talker. She had a way of getting down to the nitty gritty and getting me to talk about things that were bothering me. And then we tried to come up with some solutions, which, at the time, did work. I stopped the destructive behaviors and focused on other things…like my upcoming Bat Mitzvah.

For so many, the junior high and high school years are ones of turmoil or torment, but, kids who know the game and have a sense of how to play the game (great Executive Function in those brains) manage to get themselves through those times without too much exterior trauma. It’s the interior stuff that nobody sees that eats you up alive. You find ways to fit in, be a part of A GROUP, any group, to make you feel validated, OK, worthy. In many cases, that was an incredibly important thing because if you were lucky enough to be around sincerely caring people, you could really carry on and your depression stays buried.

And, that was my case.

I managed to carry on just fine in high school (I really hated high school and only still have contact with one friend from high school who also happened to become my BEST friend for life). People thought I was an OK person, at least, my perception was that: I was a member of a few clubs, a majorette, in All City Orchestra playing violin…. It would be interesting now to talk to some of those people to see what they really thought of me; I am strong enough to ‘handle’ the truth!

So, I was a closeted person with depression (people first language…always a special educator!)

Oh, it was in there…the entire time, but it took a few adult style ‘traumas’ to make it rear its ugly Medusa head and when it did, well, I wanted to die…REALLY TRULY wanted to die because the pain was so, so bad.

And I will leave you with that thought..because, I still get it at times…late at night when I can’t sleep.


2 Responses to “Defining My Depression”

  1. September 6, 2016 at 10:04 pm

    Welcome back D.
    It’s a good thing to write again…words can heal.
    Xxx Lucrèce

    Miss my blogging too. I am blocked somewhere…words are sticking in my head but one day all will come out again

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