I don’t post often on the subject of depression because it’s so very personal and has the potential for inviting judgment by others. Still, I think it’s important to share my story – the victories and struggles – because I’m far from alone out there.

My previous post on the subject is here, written in January of 2008, and quite a bit has changed in my life since then.

My mood disorder tends to be cyclical – with cycles that are months and even years long. It’s exacerbated by stress, emotional discord, sleep issues and to some degree, winter gloom.

Late last fall, I slid back into a pretty severe depression, in spite of my maximum dosage of the antidepressant I was on. I withdrew, stopped writing or reaching out to friends, and basically woke up every morning feeling like life was not worth getting out of bed for.

(I don’t do suicidal depression – one of my personality traits is hyper-responsibility and in my opinion, suicide is one of the most irresponsible, selfish and damaging things a person can choose.)

My depression is also accompanied by a degree of OCD/anxiety, although the mood disorder is primary. The OCD takes the form of compulsive computer screen & desk arrangement, closet cleaning, counting round numbers for swimming & walking, incredible hamster-wheel insomnia, nail/hangnail biting, etc. It’s mostly manageable but sometimes I need to consciously disrupt the cycles and rituals.

In January I finally went to see my doctor. She changed my medication from one that I’d been on for years to a new one: Lexapro. She also recommended that I go see a counselor for support.

The Lexapro was a very difficult transition. I’d never really had any side effects on my previous medication, but the new med made me jittery, insomniac, over-energetic — although not manic. It did, however, help the mood problem a lot. It was my understanding that the side effects should dissipate over a few weeks so I stuck with it. They mostly have, although I’m still perennially slightly jittery and think perhaps some of my major insomnia and weight loss (yeah!) might be related to it.

I picked a counselor based upon her recommended list and my insurance provider’s approved list. Serendipitously, she was a good match. Her orientation is both behavioral and cognitive, and she has both a liberal Christian and a Buddhist orientation. A couple of her very first goals with me were getting me back into a regular meditation practice, and teaching me to consciously accept what is without drama and catastrophizing.

Thank goodness my new medication had kicked in, and I had spent a few sessions with the counselor, when I lost Bryan. The loss of a spouse and life’s partner is possibly one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to bear – although I’d place it neck and neck with the challenges of dealing with a seriously mentally ill family member I was not able to help effectively.

My grief response was atypical, if there is such a thing as typical. I’m wired to manage practical tasks, to focus on the details, and so that was my primary orientation. Rather than dissolving into devastation and depression, the moments of sadness and grief have instead triggered relatively short-term, if severe, mood crashes as well as greater levels of OCD and anxiety.

My friend Michelle eloquently described a mood crash as “I felt a despair fall over me, as if a piece of the Snow Queen’s mirror had fallen into my eyes…” and that is very appropriate for the suddenness and intensity of how they impact me, lately.

Thank goodness they don’t last. I can generally interrupt them with a nap, a hard exercise session, time with a friend, a good book or sometimes even eating something healthy to raise my blood sugar.

So, how am I doing now, seven or eight months after the latest swing into darkness? Mostly ok. Manageably ok. Dare I say it – even high-functioning? I would not have believed that I could come through both a depressive swing and a major life tragedy without ending up a gibbering catatonic wreck, but thanks to the family and friends that have generously, creatively and lovingly supported me, things look cautiously hopeful.

Thank you.