In the many leadership courses I have taken, there is often a discussion of the relationship to nature vs nurture in determining someone’s leadership abilities. Like leadership, I think depression can be attributed to nature as well as the influence of the environment.
Several years before Rick’s accident, my OB/GYN nurse midwife subscribed an anti-depressant for me. I took it for two weeks a month. The thought was to help me manage symptoms that appeared to be pre-menstrual. Eventually after consulting with my doctor, he suggested I take an anti-depressant daily. He explained that a daily dose would be more effective in managing the mild depression I was experiencing.
This worked well. Then life got busy. I didn’t schedule my annual physical and my prescription could not be renewed. I figured it was a good opportunity to wean myself off the meds. After all, I was going through menopause and figured I no longer needed help managing my depression. I was wrong.
I experienced some mild physical symptoms and emotionally I was a wreck. Erik was home recuperating from back surgery. We had a big fight – about what I do not recall. I started having suicidal thoughts and said hurtful things that scared my family. Instead of dealing with my own issues, I kicked Erik out of the house. I didn’t even consult with Rick. I just did it and was not open to reasoning with anyone. Rick tried to convince me that I should work it out with Erik or at least let him be home while I was away. I didn’t budge.
Eventually I went back on my meds and things got better. Not just better, practically perfect. Erik returned to football, Annika graduated from college with honors and was making plans to start her life with Nic. Rick and I celebrated our 25th Anniversary. Rick had new work opportunities opening up and I got an amazing job assignment in San Francisco that gave me a new challenge and a better outlook on my career. We had the best weekend ever with our besties.
After Rick died, my physician recommended grief counseling and an increase in dosage. I did both. I did a few sessions of individual therapy but decided group therapy might be better.
I found a grief group here in the city. After the first night I was skeptical. I had expectations of meeting other widows and widowers that could relate to what I was feeling. Instead, the group is made up of women young enough to be my daughters. They have all lost a mother or sister and I was the only widow. All of them lost their loved one to cancer or another illness and I was the only one who experienced a sudden loss from a senseless accident.
Last night was our second week together and I was pleasantly surprised. Our losses and ages may differ greatly but our experiences are so similar. We shared our sleep issues, our lack of energy, how unreal death seems, and our desires for signals or conversations with our loved one. I was touched by the tears of another member who could not get over how much she could relate to what others were sharing. She didn’t feel so alone.
Prior to medication, I would have days where I just wanted to escape from the world. The kind where all I did was shut myself inside, sleeping in a dark room, rising only to eat junk food and then returning to bed. With medication and grief support, these bouts of depression are fewer and far between. Before today, I cannot recall when the last one was or even if it was before Rick’s death or after.
I suppose I saw it coming. Mornings are hard enough without Daylight Savings Time. I’ve been working on my morning game, establishing a routine and using mindfulness techniques the night before to help me mentally prepare for the alarm and not hit snooze. Yesterday I was up for 45 minutes and went back to bed even after coffee. But I did get up and go to work. Today, not even knowing it was cloudy and dreary outside, I relapsed. The stress and loneliness and feelings of emptiness with Rick’s absence got the best of me. I had my coffee, called the office, closed my blinds and slept. I slept a long time. Then I ate girl scout cookies and started writing.
I am thankful for the meds that keep me from spiralling further out of control. I am thankful for a friend that is bringing me dinner. I am thankful that she won’t judge me for being in my pajamas or for having a dirty house and unmade bed.
I am thankful for the gift of writing. It brings me peace and comfort and it brings me hope for sunnier days. Ironically, it took losing Rick to really discover my passion for writing. So above all else, I thank you Rick.