If there is one sickness I do not want, it’s depression. I’ve never come close to having a diagnosis of clinical depression, but even a slight case of the doldrums makes me sure, I don’t want to go there.
A couple of recent blog posts have helped me understand how malignant and virile this disease can be. Amy Loves Books tells the story (starts on March 2nd) of her bout with postpartum depression. Here’s an excerpt:
Writing about going crazy is difficult, because there is no answer that can explain what happened. People who love me have said it was Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I've had it pointed out that the extreme version of Postpartum psychosis has wreaked its genetic damage on an unspoken branch of my family tree. I know that, aside from a few periods of depression in my late teens and early twenties, I considered myself emotionally strong. Now, I visualize that, somewhere inside of me, there is a bite from a poisoned apple. I don't know how it got there, and I don't think it will ever really go away. I have the potential to get very sick. I can never be sure it won't happen again.
Hat-tip: faith*in*fiction
...in the outer... also talks openly of his battle with depression. In his post "Looks like I'm Not the Only One Who is Depressed..." he links to some of his earlier posts about it. In "Depression and Spiritual Healing" he lists some things he’s found helpful in battling it.
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