IT’S BEEN A VERY LONG TIME since I’ve written a regular post to this blog, and I apologize for being away for so long.  On this, the summer solstice and longest day of the year, I thought I would provide an update.  Our lives continue on with school activities, movies and work.  Mary Elizabeth continues physical therapy and speech, maintaining the momentum she’s built up over the past few years and we manage to do things as a family, like going out or even a long weekend in Washington DC a few weeks ago.

The tenor of our life hums along as it has from day to day, from week to week, and now from year to year.  Accompanying this humming however, has been a slow and steady drum beat in the background.  Sometimes it’s barely perceptible, punctuating only the most still moments in our lives.  And other times it becomes louder and more persistent, more noticeable and ominous as the cadence picks up – impinging on and drowning out the simple melody of our family life.

That drum, whose low beat I’ve been hearing more and more recently is of course, depression.  It’s probably not surprising to anybody that I should be affected by it, after all that’s happened in the last few years, but I admit to being surprised by it.

How ironic that through all those months of early desperation and grim determination to keep the progress going, I was able to maintain an even keel and provide some strength and cheer to keep us going. Now that things have steadied themselves, and the period of mourning seems to have lifted, how weird that I should find myself wearing the dun mantle of depression.

It’s embarrassing.  It feels so self-indulgent, spending large blocks of time thinking about myself and my problems and how I feel.  If I weren’t depressed already, I certainly would be now!

I read that depression affects everybody differently. For some, it’s the classic down-in-the-dumps unhappiness, accompanied no doubt by heaving sighs and back-of-hand-to-forehead gestures.  For others – like me – it’s a little more complex, and insidious.  Yes, I’m sad much of the time, but I’m also paralyzed.  Filled with inertia. Unable to get stuff done. Things as complex as filing difficult insurance claims or as simple as changing a light bulb. It’s all difficult.

And there’s a fair amount of self-loathing that comes along with it.  A feeling of revulsion and disappointment at myself for letting this happen – and as I mentioned before – feeling self-indulgent and self-centered.

It’s worrisome as well.  What’s the opportunity cost of this depression? What would I be doing if I weren’t mired down?  What price has my family paid for this spell of sadness?  I hope that the energy I manage to find is focused on family and work, but I do worry that there just isn’t enough to go around.  Everybody seems fine though, and we manage to get from one day to the next just like everybody else.

The good news – and there is good news – is that I’ve been getting help and feel like I’m making progress – maybe in a three steps forward, one step back kind of way, but still progress all the same.

Honestly I don’t think I’d be posting to the blog if I weren’t feeling better.  But I do admit to a little trepidation at putting it “out there” that I’ve been suffering from depression.  Everybody who reads the blog has been so understanding, and this isn’t the first time I’ve posted personal stuff here (so many of you have commented on my brutal honesty) – but I’m still worried.

As a friend of mine recently said over dinner, my account – the story that I’ve been telling – has to have value for others as well.  Either in a “Thank God I’m not that poor schmuck” kind of way, or in an affirming somebody-else-is-going-through-this-too kind of way.  So which ever way you choose to read this, I hope it helps.  And I hope that the second half of this year sees my feeling better, more confident and more hopeful about how far we’ve – miraculously – come.