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When I’m Depression’s Bitch
I am prone to depression of the Lemony Snicket kind. Most of the time I am fine and high-functioning, if I may say so myself, but it only takes a short series of unfortunate events to bring me to my knees.
Hormones play a significant role in this. My first major depressive episode happened right after I had my second child and my body was getting rid of all the wonderful pregnancy hormones. I would probably have been able to deal with that if it had been the only thing on my mind, but it coincided with my parents hitting rock bottom in their alcohol abuse and the combo of an infant, a toddler, sleep deprivation, hormone drain, and providing all sorts of help — over the phone and in person — on another continent was less than great. Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining. My children were and are wonderful and the greatest loves of my life, and I have always, always stepped up when my parents were in need — if anything too often for my own good. It was just the perfect storm and it took me down.
Now, twelve years later, I have landed in a similar vortex. At 47 my hormones are having a bit of a Clash moment. They are trying to decide if they should stay or they should go. And again, if that was the only thing I’d be able to manage just fine, but that is not how life (and death) is, is it? In late summer 2017, my mother was diagnosed with esophageal cancer, and five…
