The audio version of this post appears below. Just click on “play”.
I’ve only been depressed once in my life and I hope to holy hell it never happens again. It was one of the scariest things I’ve ever been through and the worst part was I kept beating myself up for being what I saw as weak. I’ve always been a happy guy even though I kind of go through life with a surly façade and I never believed that people could really get depressed. I saw it as just a cry for attention from needy people and I often accused friends of being as such. I regret that now. Depression is a horrific sickness and I have nothing but oceans of empathy for chronic depression sufferers.
What happened to me was I acquired a psychotic stalker who is now in jail, thank the universe. This was a client of mine who developed an obsession and did so many unspeakable things; I don’t even want to go into it. Imagine that – me, of all people not going into dark horrific and sick details? Extraordinary, I know.
Anyway, after about a month of constant harassment, which caused me to re-think my business and where I was in life, I found myself in serious danger. I would wake up at night and pull my gun out from under my pillow and look at it. I was never suicidal, I have far too big of an ego for that – but, I’d look down the loaded barrel and think about it. This didn’t worry me – it was just a dramatic response. What did worry me was I didn’t want to leave my apartment. I’m a social guy, not a homebody. I like to go out and see people – anybody really. I’m an amateur anthropologist and once I found myself not wanting to take part in life I got REALLY worried.
I had no idea what to do. I certainly couldn’t admit my situation to anybody – that would be weak. But, I did finally tell my mom – and thank God I did because that was the first step to breaking out of it. I would call her and sometimes I couldn’t even get any words out of my mouth – I was paralyzed. We’d just sit there in silence. Then some really good friends of mine began to make me go out and do things with them. That was a big help and really pushed me to seek out a real solution.
I didn’t want to commit to a shrink because I felt that despite its debilitating manifestation that the depression was temporary and I just had to find a way through the tunnel. I had this acquaintance I knew from some boards that I sat on who called himself a Business Psychologist. I really liked and respected the guy but considered his title pretty nebulous and didn’t have a lot of faith in whether or not he could actually help. Man, was I wrong. It took a lot for me to admit to him that I was suffering and suffering badly. He asked if I thought I needed to be put on medication and I said no. I don’t even like to take Advil so the thought of some kind of anti-depressant made me even more depressed.
This is what he said to me: “Jason, I’ve known you for years. I’ve heard your public speeches and I’ve read everything you’ve written for our boards. You can write yourself out of this depression. It’s what I do and I’ve advised hundreds of people to do it and it almost always works to some degree. For you, I think it will solve the problem and if you ever find yourself depressed again, you should do the same thing.”
I was dubious, but I was also desperate so I tried it. It took a week, but goddamn it if it didn’t work! And, it still works. At that time, I hadn’t decided to become a writer, but I do think the fact writing burst me out of that funk has something to do with my chosen profession. I ALWAYS feel great after a day of writing – even if I end the day frustrated or I’ve written absolute crap. Now, I can’t attest to whether or not writing has kept me from depression all these years because as I said, I’ve always been a pretty happy person, but I’m willing to consider it.
Don’t take my word for it because obviously I’m not a professional, but I would strongly suggest that if you feel a depression coming on or are chronically depressed, you should at least give writing a try. Here is a great guide on how to start:
I have struggled with bipolar and fought this battle for most part of my life. I went from lows to highs and back. I have found comfort by painting and writing. That is my way of expressing my emotions. I also have accepted my illness and I am coping with it.