The other "big D"

First, a disclaimer, should any potential employers glance over at my little blog. Yes, I deal with depression. No, I won't do anything that would adversely affect your business. In fact, you won't see any difference in my behavior other than that my sense of humor will probably be muted. Something that many would view as a positive.
Depression has been called the common cold of mental illnesses because it's so common and it's such a mystery. Just as we can't technically cure the common cold, we also can't technically cure depression. We can take steps but we can't nail it.

Then again, I'm not sure I want to.

I keep a list of gratitudes on my refrigerator. Something for every letter of the alphabet, sometimes more than one.  Under D is depression. Why would I be grateful to something that leaves me feeling alienated and disconnected from the world? What could possibly be positive about an illness that, at its most crippling, leaves me feeling like I want to go to bed and just not wake up in the morning?
I'm not sure I can answer it but it has something to do with what I understand about Buddhism. Which is to develop an open heart and compassion. Depression does that. It's hard for me to imagine my life without it. When I see people suffering, I seem to recognize it. I feel odd even making such a claim, because I can think of numerous times I've been less than compassionate. I can think of other times I've had "false positives". i.e. assuming someone is in pain when they're doing just fine. But empathy seems to come naturally to me. I'm not Gandhi by any stretch, but I "get" these qualities.

Depression has also enriched my music beyond anything I can write. Interestingly, I can't write when I'm depressed. I don't know about the Joni Mitchells or Don McLeans of the world. Maybe they can do it. I know that when I'm "going through the big D", I know I'm not evaluating things correctly. However, when the depression lifts, I become centered and can incorporate echoes of the depression along with even more joyousness to create, what I hope, is something spiritual.  I often write in minor keys. They seem to cover broader moods than most major keys. (except E flat, of course).
Being a numbers person, I sometimes rank my mental health from 0 (suicidal, which I've never been at) to 10 (euphoric, which I have been at, but only for a few minutes. And no, drugs had nothing to do with it). The optimal number, where I probably write my best music, is a 6. i.e. On the happy side but still centered enough to incorporate those echoes of the blues. 
Here's another misconception about depression. It's not sadness. At least in my experience, as well as others. In fact, when I had constant bouts of it in the 80s and 90s, I don't recall ever feeling a healthy sadness. I couldn't cry. I couldn't relate to other people's sadness. There was this wall of isolation.
In time, the bouts of it have been fewer. I don't know why this is but I do know it's because as I've gotten older, I've felt more connected. I feel sadness at times, but it's a healthy sadness. I've been know to cry whenever I hear certain ballads. I couldn't (and can't) do that when I'm depressed.
My blessings include, in no small measure, the oft-mentioned "Girlfriend Who Chooses to Remain Anonymous." I also play in a band that largely fulfills an almost primal need to play music with, and for, others. I have family members who are all blessed with wonderful senses of humor.
I also have my AlAnon program, a grown son who's doing very well for himself, reasonably good health, a will to exercise, and a good sense of humor. In fact, I have blessings everywhere, if I could just be aware of them. Perhaps most of all, I need to have a little faith. Not a faith that fits any particular religion. Just faith that I wasn't as important as I thought I was. Which does imply, at least for me, a higher power. A sense that I don't have as much control over every little aspect of my life and that if I can let go, my path moves as it should.
Perhaps most importantly, I've applied to college to get my MSW and then, hopefully, my LCSW and to start a therapy practice specializing in helping veterans. And using music in some manner. I actually get emotional just thinking about it. It's, in short, a calling. And when I feel called, it's much harder to feel isolated.
I've often berated myself during these episodes for my own perceived self-importance. I'm depressed? Do I want to switch places with people who are REALLY suffering? Of course not. But that doesn't lessen the pain. And in the midst of it, I still somehow know that it's just my wiring. That I'm in the meteorological equivalent of a low pressure center, which, like actual lows, can be mild or severe. But the storms pass. They always do.
I used to take medication for it. Started out with Zoloft. That barely worked. So I tried Prozac. Same thing. Both meds made me hungry and lowered my sex drive. There's a Nobel Prize awaiting anyone who can create an antidepressant which does exactly the opposite. Slimmer and hornier. How cool would that be?
But I digress...I then switched to Wellbutrin, which is a different family. I got migraines. So, back to the original "SSSI" family, this time Lexapro. It worked better but, like all the earlier meds, it flattened me out. I had enough of the pseudo-zombie state and decided in early 2011 to stop taking any medicine for it. Did I have enough in my toolbox to move ahead?
Despite an occasional trough, I'm much healthier now. I'm not advocating this for anyone else. Just telling my story.
And in conclusion, I had a small hope that writing this blog would help me understand depression better. That I could get a better handle on what I sense is a connection between depression and my own arrogance.
Result? It hasn't done that at all. It's as mysterious now as it was when I started writing. But, like love, it's filled with wonder. And that has to be a healthy thing. Maybe I'll write a song about it. But first, the elevator has to go up a few flights.

See you when I get to "6"...gp