Depression: Life Out of Focus

Feeling fuzzy

When the doctor couldn't find anything physically wrong with me he suggested depression. I would not accept that as my diagnosis. It sounded so depressing!

Back in 1982 nobody I knew admitted to such an embarrassing weakness. People with depression were considered neurotic, sent off somewhere for electric shock treatment. Neighbors whispered they were "doped up on Valium." Probably a lot of folks became alcoholics—it was less shameful.

Mom told me I needed to keep busy and not think about myself so much. Then she told me I was too busy and needed to take better care of myself. Dad told me it was all in my head and if I practiced positive thinking it would go away. Folks at church told me to have faith, read my scriptures, serve others . . . none of those ideas helped, but I couldn't admit it.

Focusing in

One day I was watching my kids blow bubbles. I'd been praying about my bleak situation when the thought suddenly came to call Shauna, a neighbor I did not know well. She answered and I started sobbing uncontrollably, rambling about how helpless and hopeless I felt. She sounded caring and calm as she assured me, "We'll get through this together. Don't worry. It will be all right." She said she knew what I was going through, because she'd felt this way herself. When I finally settled down, she said, "Now, Dear, first tell me: who is this?"

Shauna steered me towards a wonderful doctor named Dr. Payne. (Isn't that a great name for a doctor?) He had experienced deep depression himself, and had done a lot of research on its causes, symptoms and treatment. I learned that depression is not the same as feeling depressed. It's a chemical imbalance in the brain; anti-depressants balance the brain's chemicals so it can function normally. He explained that for me to go without this medicine would be as foolish as a diabetic going without insulin.

Stress, hormones, illness or trauma can trigger a bout of depression, especially if it lurks in your gene pool. Sometimes it goes away completely on it's own, other times it goes away but recurs. In my case, it is chronic, so I'll take anti-depressants the rest of my life. A friend referred to them as "happy pills," but that's not right. The medication doesn't make you happy any more than blood pressure medicine makes you happy—it makes you normal. Then you can make yourself happy.

I'm going out on a limb here . . .

Judging from the comments and especially the emails I've received this week, depression is making some of you feel out of focus. If you've had the blues for more than two weeks, talk to someone about it. Don't suffer in silence. If you've been in a funk for more than a couple of months, go to a doctor.

When I started taking anti-depressants, there were just two kinds available. It took about three weeks to tell how it was working and another several months to figure out the right dosage. I noticed side-effects immediately (dry-mouth, light-headedness, weight gain, etc.) and because I didn't feel any better for a while, I almost gave up a few times. I'm so glad I didn't.

At first the changes were subtle: I started sleeping better, the panic attacks subsided, the headaches went away. I stopped being afraid; I could concentrate and accomplish things. The kids were cuter, Dee was relaxed, and fun times were fun again.

Christmas 1984

My life came back into focus.