The Early Years

I first thought that my depression appeared when I was 19 years old. In fact, that's when I first started receiving treatment for it. 21 years ago. It seems like a long time ago now, but it really isn't. At least, now that I am figuring out the truth.

The truth is, I have been suffering from symptoms of depression from much earlier. Perhaps before I even hit my teens. I can remember awful mood swings, brought on by the feeling that I wasn't loved. Not by my parents, not by family. I had very few friends. Ever since grade school, I had less than three real (and close) friends. And those close friends didn't know a lot about me. Just enough.

It wasn't because I wanted to be a loner, but because I always felt I was weird, that I was ugly, and other things indicative of low or poor self esteem. It wasn't that my feelings of inadequacy were from out of left field. I had plenty of help, from family, from school mates, all over.

I'm not going into specifics, not the stuff you would discuss with a therapist. But let's just say that I didn't feel this way on my own... And, kids can be really cruel.

My outlet, through school, was to immerse myself in books. Not necessarily the ones I needed for school, but books none-the-less. In high school, it was the Hardy Boys mysteries. For many years we didn't have a TV at home, so I had not much of a choice but to read, between, during and after my chores.

Looking back now, I can see that the signs were there, yet, I had no one to talk to, no one to explain how I was feeling. At the beginning of each school year, as I moved from grade to grade, I would have a hard time concentrating. It took me at least six weeks to settle in. Once I did, I was fine. My teachers all said I was "bright" or "brilliant." I read well, I wrote poetry, and I was even told that someday I would make a great priest. Thank God I didn't go that route, as living life as a priest was not quite what I had in mind for a future.

I prayed constantly, asking for help. Asking that I not feel the way I did. It turns out that prayer doesn't fix depression, just as it doesn't fix homosexuality, as some of the misguided believe. It also doesn't fix Turrets Syndrome, as I found out after praying for a woman who I saw in the country during my summers. A lot of my prayers weren't answered. There are some things that prayer and God by themselves won't fix.