A Lifetime Commitment

These days I don't think there are many things that we commit to for a lifetime. Marriages end. We bounce around jobs. Friendships - even best friends - come and go. But some things are with us for our entire lives, whether we want them or not. This is how I have come feel about my depression. It's a lifetime commitment I didn't intend to make, but here it is, and I have to be responsible for it.

For a while, I thought that managing my disease simply meant taking my medication every day. My most recent depressive episode, however, has proven otherwise. I now realize that medication won't always be enough. Sometimes I will slip into depression even if I am diligently taking my meds. It might be for a day for no apparent reason. It might be a few days leading up to my period. It might be for several weeks after the weather changes. It might be years. Nope, that one is too painful to consider. Let's move on...I know now that it is unlikely these depressive episodes will ever stop happening. I know now that it's possible they will get worse. I know now that my medication may stop working and I will need to be prepared to ask my doctor for help. I know now that I always need to be aware of how my environment, diet, and social interactions affect my mood.  I know now that  I will constantly have to stay aware of my moods and the effects they have on the people around me. And I know now that choosing to be a major part of my life is a commitment those around me will need to make. And some of them will decline. I, myself, have declined this kind of commitment to people in my own life, and it makes me that much more grateful to those that have chosen to stay.

He didn't realize it at the time, but my husband made this commitment when he married me. I am incredibly fortunate to have found a partner that has had the patience and love to stick with me through some really tough times. I'm not sure I would have - could have - done the same, especially before we knew why it was happening.

While those with the illness are abysmally poor givers of love, and are adept at killing it in those that offer it to them, they respond to its presence, and are acutely aware of its absence.

This is a passage from a book I bought K about living and coping with a depressive. I've been reading it, myself, and with every page I grow more and more grateful that he has chosen to stay. It's easy to get so wrapped up in my own struggle that I don't think about how strongly it affects those closest to me. It's heartbreaking to finally begin to understand the stress, self-doubt, guilt, sadness, and resentment that my disease can cause in someone I love so dearly, whose only "crime" is that he chooses to stay with me.

I now realize that getting and staying healthy is not just a commitment I make to myself. It's a commitment I make to everyone around me who cares for me, especially my husband. Sometimes it won't feel like I'm keeping this commitment. I know that. Sometimes I will be so immersed in my own distress that I will lose sight of the effect it's having on those around me. Knowing what I know now about the seriousness of these effects, it feels incredibly selfish to ask them to stay with me through these times, but I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have my support network. I can only hope that, when I am at my worst, knowing in their hearts that I am truly grateful will make the bad times more tolerable, and that I can find some way to make it up to them when I am at my best.