Why Do I Suffer From Depression?
Someone was roughly shaking his shoulder.
“Dear God, whenever I turn my back, you’re asleep,” Pat looked down at him, impatience written all over her face. “I’ve just had your boss on the phone. I’m sick and tired of making excuses for you. My God, if you lose your job, heaven knows what we’ll do.” She turned, and John heard his wife’s high heels clacking across the wooden floor and into the kitchen.
Slowly, painfully, he pulled himself up and stood, swaying slightly. He fumbled in his pockets and came up with a scrap of paper on which was written a phone number. He reached for a cordless on one of the side tables and dialed.
“You’re in luck,” came a cheerful voice on the other end. “Ms. Lomax is free at twelve. Can you make it?”
John assured her he could, slipped into his jacket, and slowly walked to the front door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Pat’s hectoring voice assailed him.
“Out,” came the laconic reply. He heard her clacking towards him, her voice rising, but he simply opened the front door and slammed it.
Lord, he felt awful. He reached the psychiatrist’s office with he and the car still in one piece, and gave his name to the lady behind the counter.
“Have a seat.” She smiled warmly. “I’ll see if she’s free.” John barely had a chance to creak painfully onto a chair before she was back. “She’s all ready for you. This way.”
John used an arm of the chair to help himself stand, then followed the lady into a spacious office where a small, birdlike woman sat behind a large desk. She rose as soon as he came in and strode towards him.
“John? I’m Thora. First names, I think. We’ll be seeing quite a bit of each other. Okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” John followed her to a large leather armchair which she indicated, and he sank into it gratefully. Thora took her seat behind her desk.
“Now. Tell me the story and don’t leave anything out.”
“Thora, I just want to know why I’m depressed all the time and why it hurts so much. I can’t stay awake, which annoys my wife no end. I–”
Thora held up a hand. “She isn’t sympathetic to you, then?”
“‘Fraid not. Just thinks I’m a lazy bum, and she’s probably right. I don’t know.”
“Well, you’re not. Carry on.”
“Look, I have a great job, well paid, I enjoy it, and I used to really enjoy life, but now–” He raised his hands and let them fall back on his knees.
“How long have you felt this way?”
“I don’t know. Month, six weeks.”
“You, me lad, have clinical depression. I’m shoveling you into the clinic today and there’ll be no arguments.” Her hair was pulled into a tight bun behind her neck, and she cocked her head to one side, making her look even more birdlike. “I’ll inform your wife and employer of the situation.” Somehow, John knew that neither party would argue with her.
“Now. Why are you depressed? Three basic reasons. Biological. Three mischievous little chemicals in the brain; serotonin, norepinephrine and cortisol. The first one controls your sleep patterns, the second one loves to play around with your depressed state and fatigue, and the third controls your anger, stress and fear. This monkey should peak in the mornings and drop off as the day wears on, but with you, its level’s staying the same.
“Genetics. Do you know if anyone in your family has ever suffered from depression or mental illness?”
“No,” John replied. “Not that I know of.”
“Then we can probably rule that out. Environmental. You say you enjoy your job and generally enjoy life. Your wife isn’t sympathetic, though. What’s your marriage like generally?”
“Hardly passion filled. We rub along all right, I suppose.”
“Worth looking into, because something, somehow, has upset the old brain chemicals. There may be a positive reason for it, there may be no reason at all. But that’s why you suffer from depression.”
Mike Bond, telling a very encapsulated story about a man with depression and his doctor’s explanation of the disease. But that’s the problem with depression and many other mental illnesses. Doctors know that certain brain chemicals become maladjusted, but not the underlying source, unless it can definitely be traced to a genetic or environmental reason. Mike’s website’s well worth a visit. You can read his own story there
http://www.panattack.com
He would like to thank the website Healthy Place for some of the facts in this article.
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