If you’re like me, the depression you have is of the bipolar type. In the past 4 years of my life (I’m, around 40) I’ve been treated with Depakote and everything has changed.
The black dog of depression still rears his head from time to time. That will always happen. It’s part of the illness, part of my life. But these days he’s much more a loyal canine companion than a wolf circling in for the kill.
One of the things I noticed looking back to times I was in the depths of despair, smashing my life up and hiding from the world, was that it was impossible to imagine any other way of feeling.
Know what I mean? I’d think of times I was happy, and it would seem impossible. I must have been delusional. The only possible reality was the horrible, dark and frankly dangerously suicidal one I was living through. It felt impossible that that would ever change.
My mind still tries playing those tricks on me, but now it’s like that scene at the end of the matrix where Keanu Reeves swallows up one of the things he was afraid of, realises he has gained control of his fear and looks up for more.
That’s my story. If I could could pass something thing on to someone in a similar situation it would be four words which keep me well every day. They have echoed down the ages since medieval Persian Sufi poets.
This Too Shall Pass.
All the best, Christopher