A letter to my Dad

10/2/11

Hi, Daddy.

Tomorrow you are going into a partial hospitalization program for the second time, and I don't know what to write to you or what to tell you.  

But I know what I wish I could tell you.  I wish I could tell you that I have hope that you that your depression could go completely away, that there is a life ahead of you that is much more joy than sadness, with no more long episodes of having nothing that makes you happy.  I wish I could tell you that.  I wish I could tell you, here, I have hope for the future - you can take some of it.  You can hold on to it for a while, for as long as you want.  

But I can't tell you that.  I hate to hear you say that no program is really going to cure you, going to make your depression go away forever, because that sounds so hopeless - but I believe you.  

And it seems selfish to want to hold you here, to life, just because I really, really, really don't want to be without you.  Because I don't think that we can be without you.  I know what I do have hope for - that you can have some things that make you happy, sometimes.  That you can have some times where you laugh and feel engaged and enjoy life for a little while.  Is that enough to work for?  Because I know it is work, a lot of it, all the time.  Is that enough to work for, besides keeping us stable and connected to you and happy?  

It seems like so much work for so little payoff for you.  And yet I'm so grateful that you do it.  That you did it in hospital years ago, that you're willing to do it again now, that you've done it nearly every day for so many years.  I'm so grateful that I still have my Dad, and that you works so that you can have a little bit of joy, and I can have times where I get to talk to you and learn from you and joke with you and play with you.  I am so grateful.  I love you so much.

Dave and I just started a fast for you.  We wanted to give you some sign for you to know that we'll be thinking of you all day tomorrow.  But I hope that you would've known that anyway, that you would've known that we're always thinking of you, and especially would be when you took a big step like this.  

I love you so much, Daddy.  Thank you for being here for me.

Jaime

The Changing Faces of Depression

I'm dressing up as Mystique for Halloween, and I am more excited about this costume than I can ever remeber being.  I wonder if my excitement stems from my confusion about one thing with many, many faces.

10 months ago, David had chronic insomnia, found it almost impossible to do any kind of work, and impossible to see worth in himself. 

I've written blog posts about how differently David is handling things now.  I have been so impressed by that, so impressed by how David is managing to do some work every day, to go out with friends, to find some things that he's excited about, that I think I've failed to see the depression underneath.  Because he didn't have the same depression symptoms he did 10 months ago, I guess I thought it was gone for a while.

But we went in for a therapy session (we do monthly check-ins even when we're doing well, which I think is really helpful), and Dave started talking about how life still didn't seem worthwhile, and how he still felt like he was disappointing in every area.  I hadn't seen that. 

He's also been sleeping a lot lately (the other day he feeling sick and slept 15 hours), and even though he's been 100% on top of some of his classes, there are others that he really, really struggles to find motivation to work on. 

When Dave found ways to really effectively manage his depression, the face of the depression changed.  And somehow I just didn't recognize it. 

*****

Depression has so many faces, so may different symptoms, so many outlets.  At the moment I feel surrounded by close ones with depression.  My Dad was admitted to a day patient program for depression, one of my very best friends is currently at a low point, and I have another family member struggling.  That doesn't make me feel overwhelmed, it just is.  But I do find myself puzzling over how to support each person.  Depression can have such a different face for each person, and have different faces at different times.  So it's really, really hard to know how to help someone without them telling you, but when you're at a low point in your depression, it seems like you're averse both to figuring out what you need and to telling someone else about it.

Afraid

10/11/11
Today Dave didn't answer his phone all day, and I was afraid.

Enough

Last week Dave had a really low day.  He came home from school early, feeling miserable.  He initially told me that life was too much to handle, but after talking with me for about an hour he said, "I can handle calling my group to schedule our meeting.  I can handle that.  Is that enough?  Can that be enough?"

I don't think that he realizes just how much that is enough.  Though I almost cried to hear him so miserable, so overwhelmed by life, I was exhilarated to hear that he was willing to do one thing.  It is more than enough.  I think it is enough for me that he keeps living for us.  But it is definitely enough for me when he is willing to keep doing things, keep trying things, to try to get even a little better, for us.