My past depression experiment

I am being more depressed around the age of 18. There are many times of me in the shabby brown jacket I liked to wear. My mom took beautiful photographs, and there are lots of me in moody shadows, looking as down as could be.

I had my own depression to worry about. My typical memory of her from that time brings back a couch-bound, often napping, mother. he explained my sleep problem as a condition he called bipolar disorder – a term I’ve never been able to finding any purpose. A few minutes after lying down, snap! Sound asleep. No one mentioned strange emotional problems or mental illness in those days. My past counselor was occasionally talked about someone having a suicidal thoughts in my head as the voices getting louder. There was no hint of a need to get help for my depression, much less for me. No one worried about me since I was a in school until my grandmother passed away, self-contained and impressive to teachers for being so mature, so adult.

Migraine headaches started then, and increasingly intense anxiety about school. I missed some days, felt shame as if I was falling apart, and obsessed over every one of my failings. I spent long hours alone in my room.I first saw the word applied to my condition in a letter one psychiatrist wrote to the during the days felling alone. But I wasn’t treated for that problem. Therapy in those days was still in the Freudian tradition, and it was all about family life and conflict. Depression was a springboard for going deeper. Digging up the past to understand present problems was a tremendous help, and it changed me in many ways. But depression was still there in various forms, reappearing regularly for the next couple of decades. There were wonderfully happy and successful times as well, but I had these ups and downs through my career.