I'm Not Depressed...Except When I Am

Depression is a topic which gets talked about way too much and not nearly enough. When I say depression, I'm not talking about Webster's definition, "feelings of severe despondency and dejection." I'm talking about the American Psychiatric Association's definition, "(major depressive disorder) a common and serious medical illness that negatively affects how you feel, the way you think and how you act."

The way you think.

It's ok to be bummed out. It's ok to be depressed. There are real life reasons that put you in the melancholy chair from time to time. You rarely see people high-fiving and chest bumping at the funeral home during a viewing. It happens, I know. It's just not a regular occurrence. Ups and downs are a part of life. What I am talking about, however, IS the major depressive disorder that can take a grown-ass man of 32, and consign him to a 4 foot space in the living room for days on end. Not talking, not interacting, not sleeping but always tired, not eating, difficulty thinking, slow movements or speech, despondent, thoughts of death......I could go on because I'm an expert. The guy above? Yeah, that was me. You see, I have a........well, let's call it a chemical imbalance in my brain. It's always been there. I was born with it. It reared its head for the first time when I was about 7. The birth-mother split (for the first time) and Pops went across the country to get her and bring her back. During this time I was separated from my brother and sister and passed around the family. Each subsequent passing left me a little less whole. I finally landed at the evil, birth grandmothers hovel to serve out the rest of my sentence and that was a tiny hell.

The next time I recall it happening, I was 13 and in that special "school" for boys, segregated from the general population. One of the "counselors" took issue with my behavior and dispensed a form of justice which pretty much left everything above the shoulders black and blue. Don't get me wrong. Even at 13, I'd had my ass kicked about about a hundred different times. This was different. This was cruel. In my middle teens, I went through trauma on nearly a daily basis. This was generally accompanied by episodes of very dark thoughts afterward that I could never quite put in perspective. Then came the 80's where I took so many supplemental chemicals, I rarely had time to notice my own chemical imbalance. Eventually came the watershed...a four foot space on the floor, 32 years old, absolutely zero understanding of how I got there. I needed some help. That help started with counseling followed by medication. Medication which adjusted all those imbalances leveling the playing field for me. Clear headed for the first time since who knows when, that's when I really began contributing to my family, my career, and the world.

It hasn't been clear sailing since then. I've had moments, episodes, bouts with the greater disorder, but nowhere near the intensity of events which led me to seek help. 19,000,000 people, it's estimated, suffer from major depressive disorder in the United States. I'm one of them. I tell you this today because you just never know. Do I think depression is over-diagnosed? Yep. Do I think people are overly medicated? Yep. Do I think that people use the term "depression" to make themselves less accountable or for some weird kind of attention? Yep. And even so, even with all that noise, the problem is real. I know it's real because I have been diligently (mostly) taking my aura pills for 25 years. When I miss a day, my family knows it. If I had a dollar for every time Mrs. Giraffe said to me, "Did you take your meds today?" I'd be making money in a very weird way (-Mitch Hedgerg).

The point is, you just don't know. Having more than my share of personal struggles lately, I can feel old pressure points being engaged. It's ok though because I KNOW what I'm dealing with and how to keep it at bay. Not everybody does. Sadly, there are many people who never know why they think, feel, and act the way they do. Before they can figure it out, they jump off a bridge. It's hard to tell people, "That's not the answer," when they haven't asked a question.

Be a little more understanding of the people around you. Their shit may not be your shit but their shit is just as real to them as your shit is to you. And their shit could kill them.