Monday, July 6, 2009

Good Day

It started out as a pretty good day, for a Monday. The children were more or less happy and almost everybody got up on time. I drove the children to their respective destinations (daycare for the little one and day camp for the bigger one) and all was well with them.

I came home and ate a sensible breakfast (although Hardee's sausage biscuits were calling out to me, I managed to resist that siren song) of high fiber cereal and fruit and milk and a little coffee. I fed the cats and did my workout routine. I have one of those machines one can order from the television: not a big Bowflex or anything, but a smaller version which works the muscles using stretch resistance. I had a good little workout and was left shaking at the end of it. Felt good.

I came up to my office/music room and checked my email and surfed the web for a little while.

Then I decided to go for a bike ride. I packed up the bike on the rack on the back of my beat-to-hell-and-back-again Jeep and set off for the bike trail. Naturally I took my camera along, just in case. I had a pretty good ride: about 8 miles altogether. I managed to get some good photographs too, I think. I haven't checked yet. I would have ridden longer but I felt a little shaky (thought perhaps my blood sugar was getting a little low – damn diabetes anyway!), so I quit a little earlier than I might have otherwise. I like to ride about 13 – 15 miles when I'm in better shape. Packed up the bike and headed for home.

When I got home, I put away the bike and came upstairs to fix my lunch. I ate a nice lunch of a sandwich, Fritos (God's own junk food) and skim milk (I prefer skim: I was raised on it). I had a nice slice of my lovely wife's lemon pound cake for dessert and washed it down with the milk. During lunch, I watched an episode of “Flipper” and relaxed for a bit.

All was well up to this point and I had had a pretty good day so far.

Then, out of the blue and without warning, I got hit hard by a wave of depression. I may have mentioned before that among my other ailments (getting old SUCKS, but it still beats the alternative), I also suffer from chronic depression. Usually I am in control of it (rather than the other way around) and I handle it with a combination of good therapy and medication. Every once in a while, it hits pretty hard. Just now is one of those times. Sometimes when it happens, I just ride it out and know (pray) that it will pass. Today, I am dealing with it by writing about it. If I am able to do something, anything, it will usually pass more quickly it might otherwise, but there is no guarantee.

The thing about depression is that it really is a disease. People who have it often feel that they deserve to feel this way because they have done something bad or that they are just not good enough people to feel better or a multitude of other reasons why it is their fault. I know I felt that way for a very long time (still do, sometimes). That ain't so, folks. It is NOT our fault and we do NOT deserve to feel this way. We are no better or worse than anyone else. We have a disease which is often treatable. We may never be 'cured' of it, but we can manage it, with hard work, therapy and sometimes medication.

If you suffer from depression, get help: you are worth it.

There will be times when nothing will help. Those times are hard. Earnest Hemingway (who also had severe chronic depression) called those times the 'black-ass days' and I have found no better description.

Today, I might just be able to work though it. Thanks for listening.

Thoughts?

Pax,

Nelson