Depression, much like suicide, seems to be a taboo subject in polite company, and even more in impolite company.

What exactly is depression?

I borrowed this very good description from the National Institute of Mental Health: What is Depression?

I have never been a person prone to depression. I barely recognized it in others. Then a loved one talked to me about their depression, then another. People I love are suffering and I didn’t know what I was even looking at!

I’ve learned so much about depression in the last several years. I’ve learned to recognize the signs of when someone has taken a downturn, and they aren’t at their best. I believe that my brother, who took his life back in 2000 likely suffered from manic depression. He was up, then he was down, and there was rarely an in between where he was just ok. I’ll probably never understand it. What I do know though, is that our society looked down on asking for help. It’s been considered a sign of weakness for a man to admit he’s depressed or feeling low. Traditionally, men were supposed to be a rock, strong all the time, and be in control of their feelings. Women were expected to be hysterical, which is a load of BS. Much has been said and studied when it comes to these gender roles. I only know what I observe in this single human life I’m trying desperately to manage, my own. I think expected gender roles have a lot to do with depression, in general.

What I never expected in MY life was to look in the mirror one day and just know, inherently, in that moment, that I am depressed, and I have been depressed for a long time. I know that since May of 2023, when the administrators of my hospital in Prineville told our OR team that they were shutting us down, and we’d have to find positions elsewhere in the organization, I perhaps tipped over, at that moment. Things have been a chronicle of change, ever since that moment. I did what I usually do, I looked for the bright spots, the new opportunities to learn more, do more, and in the meantime, I was getting more and more stuck, for so many different reasons. I had to have the talk with the person in the mirror because, well? This just isn’t acceptable to me. What could I do to make this depression “stuff” go away?

First step was to chat with a good friend, who’s a therapist, and get their angle on things. They suggested that I get started with my own therapist person. They made a suggestion, that I quickly followed up on, in July of 2024, just to not be able to even get an appointment until October of 2024!

I made the appointment and went about my life, bumbling through each day. And, bumbling is the best possible way to describe the latter of 2024 for me, for my honey, for our lives. I have been reactionary, rather than rational, scattered, rather than organized, and all the things in between. Things have just been ricocheting around for us since before July, I think. Max deals with his trauma by working more. That’s all he knows to do, and I have to say, most of the time it works. Sometimes all his put away emotions come out in tears and frustration and all the things in between. For me, it’s way more often. My squirrels are confused, they’re overstimulated sometimes, they don’t know which direction to go, and sometimes they head off in the wrong direction. The squirrels have been trying to keep up, but they are easily distracted and we all lose track of who, what, where and when. It’s not all fun and games!

My appointment came in October and I finally got to meet with Audry, who is a PMHNP-BC. Essentially, she’s a mental health nurse practitioner. Rather than just put me on medications, like my PCP did, she first ordered a DNA test that revealed what meds will work better than others for my body. Guess what…the med that my PCP prescribed doesn’t work well on me, which I figured out all on my own. This is one of my issues with medicine these days. PCP’s are expected to make a diagnosis and then prescribe on the fly and then we should be just fine. Except most of our health concerns are way more complex than that 15 minutes can properly deal with. So, after the DNA test, Audry suggested I get on a vitamin and supplement regimen that should help balance out a few thing in my body and mind. This has been an ongoing process, and in the meantime, life goes on, and the fates continue to throw curve balls my direction, like I have really pissed them off or something. I’m becoming ok’er with the ducking and dodging, but damn.

I started the new year with good intentions. I always do, and I try to make big goals that send me forward eagerly anticipating what will come my way.

Then I lost my little Saffire girl. On top of that, I had to leave for Belize two days later. While in Belize, I had a “job” to do, so my squirrels stayed pretty intent on the job at hand, and I did pretty good.

Coming home though…driving down the driveway and seeing the pasture with all the ponies, except one, has hit me hard. All I want to do is go to bed and not get up for days. Kind of like when I lost Oso. Except…I wasn’t so depressed prior to losing Oso. I was living my life, on my terms. “My terms” seems to have become negotiable terminology in the last few years. I’m still fighting, struggling to get out of my pj’s on my days off, today included. I’m depressed and I’m having a hard time digging out of this one.

All this to say…I’ve spent most of my life, knowing inherently that I wasn’t depressed. Bad things happened, and I tried to deal with them, day by day, and eventually, I came back. 2024’s “hold my beer” approach to my mental health has been a bunch of no fun, and 2025 seems to be on a bender to outdo 2024. I know I can’t allow this to happen, so struggle on, I must. Because…depression is real, and as someone dealing with it daily now, I know that I must continue to advocate for my own best mental health, I must get up and get dressed, even if I don’t feel like it, and I must go outside and do something, anything, to get in front of this monster.

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