Depression

According to the psychiatrist I visited this week, I am living with Major Depressive Disorder.  I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned when she told me that.  But at least I had a diagnosis.  And now, I can honestly tell people, "I have gone off the deep end."

I have been struggling with a variety of symptoms for several months:  inability to focus or concentrate; sleeping issues--too much and insomnia; feeling sad and hopeless; low self-esteem; etc, etc, etc.  You get the picture!  I wasn't really surprised at the diagnosis because there is a history of depression in my Mom's family, and personally, I am struggling with some very difficult issues right now.  So, that's that.  I am depressed.

I write about this today not to garner  your sympathy, but because I think that mental health and mental illness are still huge societal issues--even today in the 21st century.  Depression is a word we are reluctant to use to describe someone.  We avoid people who are mentally ill (as if they had the plague); and we speak of mental illness in hushed voices , as if it were some dreaded disease.  Maybe that's it:  it IS a dreaded disease!  But come on, folks, when we can be so concerned for people's physical health; and when we can perform so many feats of medical marvel to cure folks' physical ailments, why still the 'hush-hush' attitude about mental health?

So today I tell you, I am living with Major Depressive Disorder.  Yes, I can still function, but some days it takes more energy than I have just to get up and get going.  Other days, I can do many things.  I've always loved people, but now I find myself sometimes feeling anxious about going out or being with people.  I've always been organized, with lists of jobs to undertake and more than enough energy to do it all, but now it's sometimes difficult to get the dishes in the dishwasher.  As much as I really don't want to feel this way, I can't make it better--no matter what I do!  And believe me, that is probably the hardest part of this disease!

So, friends, please don't talk about me in hushed tones, or veiled references.  I am depressed, and that is the way it is.  Please give me, and all of those living with mental illness, the dignity of naming it what it is.  Treat me as you've always treated me.  Show me dignity and respect, for dignity and respect are the hallmarks of life and of relationships.  I'm sure if Jesus had spoken English, he would have spoken of dignity and respect, for how can we truly love others unconditionally, if we cannot respect them, and give them their dignity?