I looked happy, but inside I was falling apart.
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I am now recovered and healthy, hopeful and whole. This was part of my story.
I wake around 7:30 a.m.. My body aches. My mind racing with too much information. Two hours of sleep is not enough, but all my mental illness allows.
As I try to shake my mind into gear, I am thinking of a client. Then another. Running through all I have to accomplish today. Not nice to have that as my first thought.
I hate to get out of bed. I know what the day will bring.
Listening to the news as I shower. Then trying to focus on shaving well enough not to cut myself.
I sit on the edge of my bed, alone. No one there in a physical sense. In my tortured mind, I am alone too. I feel numb. My vacant heart aches. My mental illness having cut off my relationship with the most incredible woman. It doesn’t allow me to have anyone in my life. She’s my superstar. But she’s gone.
I hang my head in angst, in shame, in turmoil.
I walk into my closet, not to choose anything but simply to get a shirt, one of the dozen white shirts hanging. I am empty.
In my home office, I collect my briefcase. But before leaving, I get out the List of Files. A list of around 40 items – clients, other lawyers, and staff issues. All wanting to hear from me by Noon hour. I add a few more to the list, having thought of them as I dressed. My focus is my practice.
Depression is like a dark toxic cloud that seeps into my mind. It is almost a physical impact, a deep breath of darkness that chokes all hope.
I glance out of my living room window, seeing the pasture land along the lakeshore. Such a beautiful vision. I see nothing, I have no joy. A complete lack of pleasure.
At 8:20 I drive out of my garage; such is my routine. I try to keep a schedule.
I cry as I drive. But a better description is being emotional. Tears. Out of breath. Anxious. I wonder what is happening to me. It’s a long 10-minute drive.
Pulling into my office parking lot, I collect myself. I gulp for air, feel it’s coolness fill my lungs. For a moment, I have a feeling—the cold breath.
I walk into my firm.
I hate my life.
I pull out the List and get to work. The phones never stop ringing. There is mail to address. Appointments are covered. Clients drop in unannounced. My mind is full of noise all day.
As I scratch off items on the List, I add to it. It’s a Never Ending List. My Life is a List.
Lunch hour – I get a bagel and a bottle of water. I try to hide in a full parking lot, hoping I can be invisible. I need to breathe but it`s impossible. Anxiety surfaces. My heart races. I shake. I feel my mind fragmenting. Then back to the office.
Once inside my office, I pretend. I stay collected all day. I am still able to function at my firm, somehow. I struggle to still control that part of my life.
I smile, I laugh, I am friendly to my staff and clients. I pretend for nine hours that I am happy. I am exhausted.
Driving home, I stop at a corner store for some chocolate bars. My sweet tooth still active. A small thing to enjoy.
At home, I cry when I walk in, an empty night ahead.
Eating dinner is to provide sustenance, nothing more.
I review a few files, make notes, dictate a letter. Hoping that I can bury my mental pain in my work. It doesn’t happen. My pain deepens.
I watch television. I ache to be able to stay focused. I have a pile of new but unread books on my coffee table. Can`t read either.
I go for a walk.
I have no space. I have no chance to breathe.
It`s midnight. Another hour passes, then more. It`s around 4:00 a.m. I roam my house, hoping for some outlet to unload my pain.
I collapse for a deep but short sleep.
It`s 7:30 a.m.
My own disturbing version of Groundhog Day.
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Please—if you are experiencing over an extended period such as two weeks similar thoughts and feelings I described, reach out and get help. You may have depression. Sadness is not depression. Talk to your spouse, friend, or colleague. By talking, you will discover you are not alone. Mental illness cannot be treated by yourself, I know, I tried and failed. I urge you to contact me if you want. Contact anyone.
“Here is a list of international hotline numbers to call if you are in crisis.”
More Help for Depression Resources
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Photo: GettyImages