Shawn Henfling shares the unexpected benefits of his fight with Depression.
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Depression, Bipolar Disorder and Anxiety are killers. One need only do a Google search for Depression and suicide to realize the mortality rate is high. Suicide may be the cause of death, but the real driver is the alien voice in your head. At first, we recognize it for what it is: an interloper. Eventually however, the voice morphs into our own, sapping our happiness, self worth and ability to function in ways impossible to verbalize to the unafflicted. Marriages, lives and families can be fractured by the effects of mood disorder. Somehow, despite it all, I’ve been able to realize some good has come from the battle.
I’m grudgingly learning to verbalize my feelings. I don’t enjoy it and I’m not comfortable with “touchy feely crap” as I heard an old timer once say. The pressure and stress it has added to my marriage, while something I feel infinitely guilty over, has forced me to explain more clearly what I’m experiencing to my wife. She still has to pull it from me as if extracting a stubborn tooth, but it isn’t quite like lifting Thor’s hammer any longer. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take them anyplace I can find them.
I needed to get it out there, to release the demons in my head and the written word was all I had.
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I help people. No, I’m not a superhero swooping in at the last second to stop an out of control train. I’m not building houses for the homeless and I’m not providing homes for orphaned children. The Good Men Project, The Huffington Post and the Depression and Bipolar Alliance have provided me a platform to share my story. Initially, my motives were quite selfish. I couldn’t talk about what I was feeling or suitably explain what I was going through. I needed to get it out there, to release the demons in my head and the written word was all I had.
When the first piece was published, I was terrified of the repercussions. I wasn’t sure how my job, my family or my friends might react. I was ready for anything. Anything, that is, except what happened. I began hearing from people I hadn’t seen in decades thanking me for making them fell less alone. Soon thereafter, I began receiving messages from people all over the world. Sharing my story was helping people, and it has empowered me to continue on, even as the battle for my own sanity grows harder.
Our belief is that small groups can do big things.
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I found a few new friends as well. In some cases, they were people I’d lost touch with over the years and in others they were brand new to my life. We found a common bond in our mental illnesses. In more than one instance, we were the support network for each other. It’s pretty safe to say, at least for me, these new/old friends may have saved my life. Some of us now work together to help more people. Our belief is that small groups can do big things.
Somehow, through it all, I’ve gotten closer to my daughter. Perhaps its being more open about my own feelings. Maybe it’s a deeper understanding that all isn’t what it seems on the surface. I don’t know, but I’m truly grateful for the new relationship I’ve found with her. I have to admit, every time my wife says “thats all you. That’s your fault. You may not be the sperm donor, but shes all yours” I’m a little more proud.
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Some days, I feel as though I’m left huddled,hiding in the corner of a dark room and searching for reasons to push on.
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Depression is a bitch. No doubt about it. He or she, depending upon the version of the voice in your head, is a soul sucking entity from which it seems there is no escape. The walls keep closing in and the lights get dimmer and dimmer. Some days, I feel as though I’m left left huddled, hiding in the corner of a dark room and searching for reasons to push on. Normal people aren’t like that and they don’t look at life through a veil of darkness.
Still, it’s not all bad. Most of my life I’ve searched for a way to make a difference. I’ve wanted to leave my mark on the world. The need to leave my mark upon the world in some way other than just existing. My disease has opened doors that allow me to do just that, and in some ways I’m grateful. I still hate it. I despise the pills, the fear, despair and pain I cause myself and others. Here I sit though, staring out the window at a bluebird feeding her young, grateful for the battle. Today at least, I can see the good side of the bad.
Photo Credit: Martin Fisch/flickr
Superheroes swooping in to save trains don’t exist. You do, and I am glad of it. These gutsy shares of yours have positive impact. One day someone will tell you your words saved them. As a man who himself has dealt with depression, I thank you, Shawn.
Shawn, what an open and honest piece! My men friends with depression feel so many of the same things that you do. It’s so important that you share your story so others can feel they’re not alone with their thoughts and feelings. I know it’s “undudely” to talk about your feelings, but what a wonderful example you are. And, by the way, my mentor in all things depression and bipolar is my friend Dan. He’s literally saved me so many times. I’m so thankful for men like you and Dan. Depression is our commonality, but approaching it from two different… Read more »