I’ve spent a lot of time crying while driving. I haven’t in a few years though.
Some of that is due to not spending a lot of time driving. And spending no time driving alone. (married life certainly changes a number of habits.)
But I ended up where I am the same way I ended up at school many days when I taught. Driving, dreading, and crying.
I was really public about my experiences with depression in 2014-15, but I didn’t start until I was well into the experience.
I don’t have much experience acknowledging it dealing with it in the early stages. And I don’t know where the therapeutic nature of writing about it will help me now like it did then.
So where does that leave me?
Overall I’m in a really good place. I haven’t had significant depressive episodes since 2015 and I have a job I sometimes enjoy that pays me extremely well and my managers understand and value my capabilities. On a very superficial level, things are very good.
My marriage is good. We have our struggles, but we both understand each other and know at the deepest level we have the same goals in mind, so disagreements are minimal and are resolved quickly.
We have a home in a nice area–if a bit to exposed for two introverts, but we’re working to beautify the land and fence it so we can have some separation from the public street in our back yard.
At some level that exposure causes both of us extreme anxiety, so it’s in the near-term plans to fix that.
I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last few years. I enjoy things other than sports, but the exercise sports brought was a necessary tool for coping. If I’m completely fair, the competitive drive I lost as a part of my experiences with depression has been a big blessing and a bit of a curse.
A blessing because I more easily recognize that many things just don’t matter, and my ego doesn’t get in the way as much. I have less need to be right and don’t have to force my will on everyone. But with no competitive drive or at least not an over-tuned one, I have little motivation to stay in good shape.
But I’ve discovered that it’s easy to make stuff. Building things for the house and garden doesn’t take much brain power, and it is a salve for my need to be creative.
But it doesn’t fill the exercise need.
This started with the question “Is it back?” because the answer is I don’t know.
I don’t know whether I’m bound for another life-altering experience with depression. I don’t know whether this experience will be more or less severe than the last one. I don’t know whether the plans and dreams I have for family security will be viable after the experience.
There’s a few things I know this time that I didn’t before.
I have a wife that supports me and understands my stuggles. She provides strength when I am not able to.
I’ve been through it before and I came out stronger. Only atonement can account for that. But having experience helps me more forward more boldly.