Here is the tragedy: when you are the victim of depression, not only do you feel utterly helpless and abandoned by the world, you also know that very few people can understand, or even begin to believe, that life can be this painful. There is nothing I can think of that is quite as isolating as this. – Giles Andreae
Looking back on it now, I can see that the stranger who imprisoned and scourged me for three days while in dental school did not simply vanish from my life as I had assumed; he continued to stalk and torment me for more than a decade; not dramatically as he did at first, but subtly and erratically.
Fear had been patient for all of those years; when he decided to return, he returned with a vengeance.
In the summer of 1982, in my fourth year of private practice in Scranton, I started walking around Lake Scranton every evening to unwind, to get some exercise, and to lose some weight.
In the fall, when the days grew shorter, I was faced with the decision of leaving the office early, or walking around the lake before work.
At six o’clock in the morning, it was dark and cold. Summer walking had been fun, and I did feel healthier, but winter walking was a different story. I tried to compromise by walking on the weekends, but that lasted for only two months. Without motivation, walking soon became a memory.
My memory was restored the following summer. The stranger returned, and he was determined to stay. I could not get rid of him. When all else failed, I tried to wear him out. From June until the following March, I walked every day.
In the fall, when the evenings grew short, I willed myself out of bed and to the lake before dawn. In the light or in the dark, in the rain or in the snow, even when the temperature was zero, I walked.
This time, I was motivated. This time, I had a purpose. This time, I knew who the stranger was. Although he changed his name and was wearing a menacing new disguise, there was no doubt that it was my old friend. This time, Fear introduced himself as Depression. Someone once told me that exercise could get rid of depression. Walking became my therapy to extricate myself from my old, and unwanted, friend.
“Depression” is a word too often used casually: “I feel down”; “I have the blues”; “My nerves are bad”; “I’m depressed.”
I had listened to my family and friends talk about depression for as long as I can remember: “You’re just depressed”; “Don’t worry about it”; “It’ll go away”; “Get out of the house … get some exercise. You’ll feel better”; “Take a vacation”; “Everybody gets depressed. Why should you be any different?”
These comments and remedies must be true, I thought. After all, the people giving this advice were normal, healthy individuals who I had known all of my life.
For years, I experienced intermittent periods of anxiety, unwarranted doubt, indecision, and fearfulness. These feelings recurred without warning and disappeared as quickly as they came. Because I felt normal once they were gone, I attributed them to nothing more serious than common worry and stress. So, in the summer of 1983, I wrote a prescription for myself: I walked. – Excerpt from “I’m Afraid”
Did my prescription work?
Did I heal myself?
As the saying goes, “Stay tuned!”
I offer these thoughts for your consideration.
The saga continues in my next blog.
Do Not Be Afraid!!!