I had to reach out to a friend who had recently sunk down a dark, black hole called depression.
It's a bitch.
I suffered from depression years ago.
It's still there inside my head.
At my lowest point down that hole, I was given a choice- hospital or staying with someone- outside of my immediate family, who would care for me. My Cousin Judy- who passed a couple of years back, stepped up to the plate.
I will always love her and will never forget her for that.
She saved me.
You saved me Jude!
I always suffered most at the changing of the season from summer to autumn. I don't know why.
Late August through the fall when it seems everything dies.
Weather changed. Seasons changed and so did I.
At that lowest point I stopped going to work. I lied. I stayed home. In my state of depression I needed to be alone and to be surrounded by my things. I remember thinking if I was a millionaire I could deal with this. I wouldn't have to work and I could take off somewhere whenever I wanted.
I thought it would cure me.
It would have made me feel better but a cure? Not sure there even is a cure.
It's more of an understanding how to cope and still live a normal life- not that I personally have lived a "normal life" whatever that is...
One day- the final day before I got help, my Mum and Sister, found me crouched in a fetal position
between my bed and a wall.
I was so low.
So low...
I wasn't answering my phone.
People were worried and rightly so.
When I was at the bottom of that dark, deep hole, I had to be on drugs to level myself out.
This was about 1980.
Mental Health issues were not talked about.
If one was depressed one was told to pull up one's socks
and get on with it.
My Dad told me that.
The brain knew different, however.
A broken arm people could see and understand.
A Mental illness and confusion- not so much
Anyhoo, it was three months or so for me to get back to feeling sort of okay.
I had put on weight.
My clothes felt tight.
My cheeks were chubby.
I was tired but looking forward.
I was "okay enough" to be out in public and even well enough to want to return to work.
I tried.
It didn't go quite to plan.
My work- CHAY FM at the time, let me go.
I went in for a meeting all set to go back to work and they kindly let me go never understanding what
pain I had been through. None of the three managers at the meeting could look me in the eye.
I was done.
I bawled my eyes out in the car as I drove home.
One of my major problems resulting in "the Great Depression" was being in the closet.
I was 29.
On the final day I saw a psychiatrist he said to me:
"Rob you know what you have to do, so go out there and do it."
I did.
I called someone I had met that I knew was Gay and off I went to Toronto never telling a soul why.
After a few weeks- and not long before Christmas, I began to come out to family and friends.
Imagine if every straight person had to come out to family and friends.
For most Gay folks- like myself, it's a journey we must take.
It's like jumping over a log to a better side of the meadow.
Crossing a line in the sand to personal freedom.
It felt great and so right and remember this was 1980 not 2021!
It's a life-changing experience and takes guts but it's a road to wellness I had to take and wanted to take.
My Mum called me one day and said my Dad didn't want me to come home for Christmas!
How nice!
After struggling for months this was not what I needed to hear but I was stronger and moved forward.
Then, at the last minute she called and said Dad had changed his mind.
"Come home for Christmas"- she said.
I said- no.
I had other plans.
I had to watch myself for a few years.
I had to be careful and watch for depression's warning signs.
Things eventually fell into place.
After a relationship from hell in Toronto, I met the current "Mister" on a plane to Honolulu.
A few weeks later when we met up back on Toronto, I told him what I had been through what with depression and coming out a few years before.
Funnily enough, I helped him come out. He hadn't jumped over the log as of yet.
He helped me with my depression. He stayed strong when the vile illness tried to rear its ugly head in the next few years.
I still have "episodes" now and then.
A small blip but I handle it as best I can.
At least I don't curl up between my bed and a wall any more!
Just a couple of years ago I wanted to go back to Ontario when I found myself dreadfully homesick. I thought maybe we- I, had made a mistake coming to the Island.
Depression is a devil of an illness and creeps up on you.
I had tears.
I tried to feel better and did eventually. Nothing like 1980.
I was just sad and feeling away from everything I had known.
Several people back in "Old Home" had passed and we couldn't go home.
The "monster" lurked and I had warning signals but I beat it back.
I'll always have some form of depression.
It's in me.
I have to control it and I do.
Recently, I asked the Mister- "If we still lived in Orillia right now, would we make the move to the Island?"
It's a hard call to make and I don't know why I asked the question in the first place. I still get a pull from "old home" and the Autumn season now and then it leaves as quickly as it comes.
Most importantly, if you believe you are suffering from depression, know you are not a alone.
That's the most important part of all this depression crap.
You go to the people who support you and understand and it's not always those closest to you.
Some people have a very hard time sorting through things like this and want no part of it.
If they only knew what it was like for us...
So that's my rambling on my life with depression.
Get help.
Keep strong.
Remember "Life is Good".
Lean on those you can.
and
Be Well.
