Many of us who suffer from them are ashamed or simply don't want to talk about it. Keeping it in the dark just keeps the stigma alive and well which ultimately winds up killing people.

That is so true, but instead of being ashamed, they should feel proud to have done what is right, not what the stigma dictates.  Pride is a good thing, except when it interferes with who you really are - and living to your potential.

But there are different kinds of depression and different people have different symptoms. I cried all the time over everything and anything. I couldn't sleep but was always tired. I definately didn't care if I ate or not. You're right it's the whole nothing sounds good, who cares, kind of thing. I still experience some of this even though I'm on medication now. I did think that my depression was caused by my marital problems but my marriage has been much better and improving and that hasn't changed the feelings of depression.

Thank you LW for expaining so well what it is like to be in the midst of depression.

After learning this and knowing what I do about my nephew who suffers from manic depression, it seems calling out in personal prayer and asking prayers of others fits somewhere in the equation...call upon God...and give the pain and suffering to Him and offer it for release of someone else's, in this world , whose worse off than you.

I'd say you hit it right in the middle of the numbers, LW.

I've recently been diagnosed with clinical depression (in addition to finally being able to put a name to what's causing my chronic pain - fibromyalgia).

For the last 6 years, I've had a little ray of sunshine in my life in the form of my daughter. No matter how angry, upset, or what I'm concentrating on, her antics (especially when she climbs in your lap and gives you big hugs and smothers you with kisses) could always be counted on the bring a smile to my face. For a period of about 3 months, before I sought help, even a 'Chaela cuddle couldn't break my funk. I was so apathetic that even one of the things that would ALWAYS cheer me ... barely moved me. And that scared me more than anything else did. Looking back at it now, it brings tears to my eyes just thinking about how scary it was. I don't care about feeling angry, sad, happy, or even just bleh. It's the complete and utter LACK of feeling scares about my depression.

Mason - there's a lot of folks (mostly men, I've noticed. Stupid machismo.) that see seeking help as a weakness. I think that it makes a man stronger to be able to admit, even to one other person, that he needs help. I'm glad that I finally admitted it, to myself and my doctor. I'm also glad to see that you're not letting a sense of fatal pride keep you from admitting it too.

Good luck with the meds, Mason, and God bless you during this time.

Whip, I understand what you are saying from your perspective but I think Lula is a true believer and she feels that one thing she can do to help her nephew, Mason or you, is to pray for you. I believe that Lula is Catholic and let me tell you it was a common refrain when I was growing "you're suffering, offer it up". She's not saying don't go to the doctor, don't pursue a medical treatment, just that she thinks prayer works whether you agree or not. So play nice.   

THANK YOU, LW. I left this one alone because I heard that enough during my last bout. In fact, I think I mentioned it.

Oh yeah. I DID!

Not too badly. I think it's probably a little different for different people, but yeah that's as good a description as any.

Oh, and you were right about the knitting. I haven't touched it as I just have no interest. Sometimes even bothering to eat seems like more trouble than it's worth.

I agree, I think that's what she is saying here, but I also agree with LW and Gid that there are far too many ignorant people who do toss out that "if prayer doesn't fix it then you don't have enough faith" garbage. Somehow they associate this illness with some illness of the spirit instead of the physical illness that it is, so I can understand LW and Gid's reactions. I've heard it far too many times myself from ignorant, well meaning people who simply don't have a clue.

I just thought you were a bit harsh. I generally don't intervene in others disputes, even my kids. I tell them that they have to learn to work it out.

Little-whip, hold what you will against me for my comments, I can't change that...but I can and will try to clarify what I said and meant by what I said.

No where have I said anything against using meds to treat depression. I'm not against medication...and thank Almighty God that He gave men the intelligence and know-how that we have such.

I said:



"fits somewhere in the equation" means to me that meds are already a given and that prayer can be helpful alongside that.

In any event, Mason seems to understand what I said and what I meant...and that's what matters most.

I'd say that's what happened.



Apology accepted. Peace.

Sorry, I missed this post earlier. I know exactly what you're talking about. My Dad went to war in 1939 as a 19 year old. He came home in 1945 (at age 24 , for God's sake), with a medal for heroism, shellshock and depression. He never recovered and became a bitter alcoholic with nightmares and a rage against the World. No Prozac or Efexor for him--nothing at all. The World that gave us sophisticated warplanes and radar etc, had no answer in the forties for depression. If my dad had had access to help he would have overcome many of his nightmares. He died young in his fifties and I hated him for decades (He was worth hating, I promise you), until I understood fully what he had been through and then I forgave him. Wherever he is, one night I spoke directly to him and I said: I understand now why you made our lives hell. Wish you'ld had more help. Wish you'd known how we thought our love for you might overcome it. I forgive you Dad. Forgive me too.

I weep and grieve for him everyday.

I think a lot of us have gone through similar experiences.