Eat a hot pepper

To suicide or not? To say "enough" or imagine better times? The only precurser and companion to these questions is depression - the silent, lonely experience of feeling the bitterness of separation from others. The imagined loss of redemptive, remembered love. The void of desire to search out resources for healing. The lived, unbelievably painful sense of "no end in sight".

We're told the cure-all for this "illness" is either the application of modern psychotherapeutic models ("counseling") or the prescription of pshycho-pharmacuedicals or both. And time. But for some of us, time runs out.

The first social worker i met with after my breakdown told me "meds are a crap shoot" and, indeed, it's a hit and miss affair and i've never ever had a "winner takes all".

I take 11-13 pills per day for PTSD symptoms and depression and anxiety and hypertension. I've had three major med changes (each one accompanied by excruciating struggles) in the past four years. I suffer from nausea daily, dizziness, severe tremors if i miscalculate or forget to eat before i take my meds or if i take them too late in the morning. I am often disconsolate, knowing i am dependent but, at the same time, afraid what i would be like without them. Despite the medications, i still have anxiety enough to keep me inside for days at a time, depression to keep me in bed all day, separating myself from family.

I have met with seven different psychiatrists - for intake, review, treatment, crisis intervention, assessments. Each one has had slightly different views and recommendations, even different diagnoses. Each one tweaked my medications and i now expect that every visit will result in another "roll of the dice".

I spent six weeks in a treatment centre for PTSD, followed with almost two years in therapy. I have a supportive family and a circle of friends and a wonderful, supportive partner. That being said, years of work in supporting people with mental illness has taught me that all of this may be for naught.

The drugs, the therapy, the supportive family - so many factors within factors: intensity or degree of illness, subjectively assessed; the need to hide real feelings from family and therapists/doctors alike because of shame. The list goes on.

We may very well be on the right meds, have received the suggested amount of therapy, have the full support of family and friends and it's a great combination to combat this illness. I believe the lurking reality of the "choice" is faced by everyone at different points in their lives, but the chronically depressed must fight harder to say YES to life, YES to the possibility that tomorrow may be better and YES to hope for a happier future.

And so I say - time. Take your time. Wait till the morning. Call someone you love and trust. Breathe. Take a bath. Eat a hot pepper. You are alive. You can continue to be so tomorrow and things will look different. Trust me.