October 2000 should have been the happiest time of my life. I was 27 years
old, I'd recently married a wonderful man, we'd bought our first house, and I'd
landed a job I'd wanted for years as a mental health therapist. So why did I feel sad
and unsatisfied with my life?
To find out, I began seeing a therapist, who diagnosed me with depression. Being a therapist myself, I was not
surprised. I had had depression in high school and college, but those episodes
were related to external stressors. This time, it was out of the blue during a
period when I "should" have been happy. Despite my training in the
mental health field and knowledge of the illness, I didn't truly know what
depression was until I experienced it.
Depression poses many dangers, burdening people with hopelessness and raising their risk of suicide. But in attempts to quell the pain, some turn to alcohol, drugs, and other harmful behaviors that endanger them even further, psychologists say.
“There is a strong relationship between depression and high-risk behaviors,” says Pamela Cantor, PhD, a psychologist and lecturer at Harvard Medical School.
“Excessive drinking, drug abuse, unsafe sex, and cutting are all self-injurious behaviors that...
Depression is an illness that strikes millions of people, but most don't
really understand it. Friends and family, especially my husband, wanted me to
just "snap out of it." But no matter how hard I tried, I could not.
I consulted several therapists and began to see a psychiatrist for
medication. Over the next three and a half years, I was prescribed at least a
dozen different medications with multiple combinations. Nothing seemed to help.
Suicidal thoughts began to creep in. I was forced to quit my job because the stress of working in the mental health field
seemed to be exacerbating my own symptoms. I attempted to kill myself twice,
and I was hospitalized seven times because I was unable to keep myself
My doctors advised electroconvulsive therapy (ECT), which passes electricity
through the brain in a painless procedure done under anesthesia and with a
muscle relaxant. But even after several ECTs, I wasn't improving much. During
this time my husband, family, and friends were frustrated with my lack of
improvement, yet I think they began to understand my illness and see that it
wasn't just a bad mood I could just get out of.
Finally, in April 2004, success! During my last hospitalization, my doctors
completely overhauled my medications and I started ECTs again. Almost
magically, it seemed, my depression began to lift. This may sound strange, but
it felt as if the demon, which was my depression, decided to leave me.