Admission of a stranger

It's been a few weeks since my last post, and even I can't recall where I may have been going with the last post.

As I was telling someone else recently in some email correspondance, I have had both good days and bad days as of late. Thankfully, there have been more good days than bad, and only once did I seriously consider going back on the Lexapro to get me through a rough patch.

The last two weekends I haven't been feeling 100%. I've been a bit more tired, both physcially and mentally. I've also felt a little sore, and to be honest, wasn't really into doing anything...even church. So I skipped the last two Sunday's, and I'm not even sure why.

I listened with great interest to a talk radio show the other day in which one of the shows engineers had discussed his dealing with depression and his current regime of Lexapro. I was happy he was so open with it and defending his choice, while his friends thought he was 'just popping pills', and that this depression was 'all in his head'. Well, duh, it is!!

They couldn't understand why this man was on pills, but all did comment that he was overly cheery now, and maybe its a false effect to who he really is. That may be, but unless you know yourself and the emotional pain and guesswork depressed people go through, there really is no way they can explain and have others understand. Heck, I don't even understand myself.

You see, years ago I was one of those doubters; one of those guys on the outside that didn't understand why depressed people were 'depressed'. Why did they need to take pills? To me, it was just an excuse, running away from the real issues, hiding behind the convienence of a perscription. I thought if people were depressed than a few things were wrong (and it wasn't the brain): it was they were not surrounding themselves with loving and supportive people. It was they had no faith in God. That they were seeking attention, crying wolf, etc.

Then the tables were turned and I fell into the pit, and now I realize how wrong I was.

My family loves me, more than I can ever describe....but their words did not help me. My mother shook her head at me on more than one occasion stating the pills were an easy way out. You see, she stills thinks like I did. My father was a little more understanding. Admittedly, he doesn't know much about depression, but he knew something 'deeper' was wrong, and offered his company to me when I was sitting home alone staring at the floor. We didn't speak much during those times, but I know he was scared enough that he didn't want his only son to do something 'crazy'. Even though he may never tell me, I have a sense that he believed I was close to the edge and I may do something stupid. Most likely not, but I won't lie and say the thoughts never crossed my mind.

Anyway, back to the radio show.... I was amazed on how many of these friends of the 'engineer' knew he was depressed, and offered no real help at the time. Now they see him as a happier person, but at the same time criticized him for taking pills in the first place (as if he couldn't help himself), and aloc commented that he's not himself. Wow! He's not himself? Well of course not...he's now happier and cheery and out from under the dark cloud that he was under 24x7. Did they not like change? Would they rather have the old friend back, full of doom and gloom, and crabbiness? Apparantly. And that to me, is scary.

I wonder how many of my friends and family feel that way about me? That's why I don't really let on to my issues with my friends. Only my wife and my parents and you blog readers know about my meds. I am not 100% honest even with my best friends....for fear on how they will react or look at me.