Depression. Ugh. I hate that word.
Depression reminds me of my father’s suicide and my mother’s substance abuse.
Depression is the last thing I thought I’d have to worry about when my son became a teenager.
I was expecting for him to want more time to himself.
I was expecting he might not care about the same things he cared about before.
I was expecting mood swings and a stinky room.
I was expecting him to eat like a garbage truck.
I wasn’t expecting him to stop eating and lose weight.
I wasn’t expecting him to stop showering or leaving the house.
I wasn’t expecting for him to lose interest in life itself.
At first, I thought: It’s just the hormones. It’s just a phase. He’s still happy…
Then I started noticing: He doesn’t ever seem happy at all, about anything, like ever.
I went from teasing him and calling him Eeyore to wondering if I had done something to make him hate me.
I tried not to take it personal. I just cried alone in my bathroom.
Then I thought about my father.
I wondered if my son might be depressed.
So I asked him.
Much to my surprise, he said YES.
He’s always been open and honest with me, he’s just never been good about going out of his way to clue me in.
I asked him if he wanted to talk to someone.
He said YES.
So I took him to a psychologist.
He said things went well, but he didn’t tell me what they talked about, and that’s ok.
The therapist believes my son is suffering from depression.
So he gave me a referral to a psychiatrist.
He will still continue counselling him though.
We don’t know if he’ll have to go on medication, but medication sounds better than suicide.
Depression makes my son feel hopeless.
It makes me feel helpless.
I asked him if there was anything that happened to make him feel this way.
He said NO. He just feels sad all the time for no real reason.
I asked him if there is anything I can do to make him feel better.
He said NO, but he’s thankful I’m getting him some professional help.
I feel hopeful that by noticing his symptoms and getting him help that he can overcome this.
I still worry that he won’t.
I know so many don’t.
He looks so much like my father.
It terrifies me.
But I can’t become depressed myself.
He needs me.
And I really need him.
After Jules’ therapist suggested I take him to see a psychiatrist for medication, I…