I was living a good life.  I had two children, a loving husband and a housekeeper.  I lived in an upper middle class suburb and belonged to a country club.  I was an active volunteer, and I played tennis at least twice weekly.  Nothing could have been better.

Then the big D hit me out of the blue.  I couldn’t sleep.  I was filled with self-doubt.  I couldn’t concentrate.  I could barely function.  My good friend and neighbor had to help me run my home.  My husband threatened to divorce me if I didn’t get professional help. 

Not knowing where to go for help, I called a psychoanalyst I knew.  He referred me to another psychoanalyst.  He never took a family history and didn’t put me on medication.  Two weeks later, I felt more helpless and hopeless.  I made a serious suicide attempt.  Sometimes I’m glad my husband found me and at others times I’m not.

I was hospitalized for a month and put on medication.  Almost immediately, I no longer felt depressed.  Then my cousin told my husband about our family history of depression, which included my mother.  I finally realized how it affected me --until then, I never knew to put it together. 

My younger son also suffers from depression, but is controlled by medication.  I have long periods of feeling wonderful and then have terrible bouts of depression.  There are times that I wish I were dead, but I just hold on to the fact that I need to be here for my children.  Sometimes that makes me angry and I resent them.  But how could I leave them with such a legacy?  

A few years ago, medication was not helpful and I had ECT therapy. It worked miracles. The only side negative effect was some memory loss.  When my children were in high school I went back to get my masters degree in social work.  I feel I was “saved for a purpose” and I have helped many people in return.  I have played an active part in my children’s lives.  My youngest, now 31, is getting married in a few months, and it was fun helping to pick out their dishes and wedding invitations.  And I’m almost tuning the big 6-0.  My husband promised me a trip to Italy if things are going well, and I might be starting a new job helping teens in the school to better understand depression, bipolar illness, the ramifications of suicide and how to treat others who suffer from the aforementioned illnesses. So life goes on in exciting and vital ways.