Getting Back

Well, as is obvious, March of 2003 was rough. My depression had reached its greatest depth. Anxiety attacks were a daily occurrence. My career was gone. Now, where would my life go? It couldn't get any worse. Even in the midst of such angst, I knew I wanted to get healthy. But I questioned if I could.


I was in real bad shape. I had no self confidence, no self worth, little energy or interest in anything, all of which are symptoms of depression. To venture outside of the bedroom was a big step; to go outside of the house was a major accomplishment.


I was fortunate to have had, and continue to have, great family support. My immediate family provided such care and concern that I knew I was well protected. They encouraged , at times strongly urged , me to take the necessary steps to recovery. We discussed my illness and its impact on my life. They sat at my beside for weeks. Without them, I would have ended up in hospital.

My family doctor, when he diagnosed me, also prescribed medication. It slowed my mind down, no more having to handle too many pressures. However, within a month, the dosage was doubled in order to maintain the drug's effectiveness. I knew that my mental state was drug induced, but it was still a healthy break. Some of the side effects included my sleeping a lot, and eating too much. Given how I had been living, these side effects were welcome.

I was fortuntate again, in that I had a medical plan that helped cover the cost of medication, and when it was cancelled, I could still afford it.


But early on, we recognized that I needed additional help.

The Nova Scotia Barristers' Society provided me with a list of four psychologists, for whom the Society would cover the cost of the first ten visits. It took a lot of encouragement from my family, but I called the first on the list. I spoke with the doctor on a poor speaker phone, while she ruffled through some papers, paying me little attention. I knew enough not seek her assistance. Now, with depression, and given this doctor's reception which re-enforced my low self worth, I thought no one wanted to help.

However, with still more family encouragement, I called the next doctor on the list. Dr. Deb, as I will call her, seemed like a good fit and an appointment was made for the following week. Now, I had never been to therapy before, so, I didn't know what to expect. Well, it's amazing what one will tell a stranger. The floodgates opened and out flowed my life.

I attended therapy once a week for two years, then once a month. Going to therapy became the highlight of the week. My family and I tried to make the right decisions for my recovery. Each week, Dr. Deb would confirm that our thinking and actions were correct. That gave us great comfort because we knew that we were starting to understand depression.

Dr. Deb suggested I keep a journal,which turned out to a be a great idea. In practical terms, the journal was helpful, because during those days, my memory was not very good. As well, it now gives me a source to review for this blog and for my own personal interest. I would make a note if I felt good for a few minutes; a smile was a huge event, a laugh was amazing.

I gradually developed a routine to allow me to leave the house. I realized I had a certain comfort zone. I had existed in my own small world, I now had to expand to become part of the real world.

I was too groggy from my medication in the mornings to do anything. I was no longer a morning person. I did not go anywhere alone for a long time, because I knew I could not handle a situation if something went astray.

I could go to Chapters, on Mondays or Tuesdays, when the store would be quiet. Upon entering, I would stop and look around to ensure that there weren't many people inside. I could no longer handle a busy place, I found it too chaotic. This was certainly a change for me, I enjoyed hectic places, the busier the better. No more.

Another step I took in the early days was to go out to eat. I started by getting take out and eating in the car in the back parking lot of the restaurant. After doing this for a couple of months, I then progressed to eating in the front parking lot. I did this for awhile. Then one day, I ate in the restaurant. Eventually, in the summer of 2004, there were days, usually after therapy when I was feeling good, that I ate Bud the Spud fries on the steps of the Spring Garden Rd. courthouse. This was a good moment.

Once I got out alone, I could go to the Sunnyside Mall. I also enjoyed driving around the city in the evening and into the night , listening to the radio or to a CD, being able to enjoy music again, what a treat.

Some friends provided solid support. They not only reached out to contact me, they actually took steps on their own initiative to help. They helped sell the house; stored my belongings; took time to talk with me; and took me for drives around the city.

Another couple of long time friends called me one night to see how I was doing. Given their past difficulties, they easily understood my circumstances. They took me to some movies ( hey, Big Fish was good ). I learned I could focus on an entire movie and enjoy it. They even got me to attend pilates classes.

There were some bumps along the way. Some people did not reach out at all, which was both shocking and unsettling. I could discuss this at length, which I will in a later posting.

Others snubbed me, one who used to greet me with a hug, walked by me in a grocery store. Another, a local judge who I had known for years, kept his eyes on the floor after seeing me at a corner store.

Another person came back into my life fully knowing of my depression , took full advantage and treated me poorly, setting my recovery back by a year. So, be wary of such false comforts.

I was told and then I came to realize that such people, especially those from whom I did not hear, are not true friends and to dismiss them from my life. I had to learn who was true and honest. If I was to have a new full life, changes had to occur. So, the decision to remove such people from my mind and to banish them from my heart was made. It was difficult and took a couple of years, but necessary and healthy. Once I made such decision, I knew I was in better control of my life.

As well, in the winter of 2005, with my doctor's guidance, I weaned myself off my medication, so that my mental state was of my own doing.

So, walking the path to good health required help, understanding and care from my family, certain friends, and my doctors. It took a series of small steps, which to me were huge, and a strong will on everyones part. But most importantly, it took my wanting to get well.



Keith