Category Archives: relationships

A Conversation in the Lunch Room

I was sitting in the lunch room at work with a group of co-workers, flipping through the newspapers. I came to an article on the suicide of Marie Osmond’s son, which led to the whole table discussing the incident. And it was immediately underlined for me how little most people know about mental illness and depression. Here’s a brief list of some of the questions and statements that came up during the discussion, the entirety of which I spent shrinking into myself and trying to be invisible:

  • “Is depression even a real disease?”
  • “People who commit suicide don’t really want to die – evolution wouldn’t let us have suicidal tendencies because it goes against survival.”
  • “It must be because his mom had mental health problems too.” Someone inquired if depression was hereditary and the original speaker replied “No, but being around depressed people can turn you into a depressed person.”
  • “I once knew a bipolar. She married my cousin and my mom got so mad, like you should never marry a bipolar because it’s not a good idea for them to have kids.”

Finally, a young man told a long story about his ex-girlfriend, who had experienced major depression, and how it affected her and the serious limitations it caused her. It was a great illustration of the reality of depression and the changes it can cause in day to day life. It was unfortunately concluded with a “so that’s why you can’t be in a relationship with those people, it’s just too hard.”

We’ve got a long way to go, y’all.

A Saturday sketch

(Cross-posted at three rivers fog.)

I noticed something was wrong in the earliest hours of the morning, when my husband had disappeared from bed but I did not hear anything going on in the bathroom and could not see him anywhere.

Around 8, he got up to go to the bathroom and I lifted myself out of bed to use it after him. When he emerged, he was very clearly not well and said, in a seriously distressed tone, “I just had the most awful night” and stumbled around me back to bed.

It’s not emotional, he clarified as he curled up awkwardly on his side of the mattress, it’s just physical. He had problems feeling seriously sick to his stomach, which never culminated in anything, just churned on and on without relief, and had serious sharp pains in several places — shoulder, lower back, knees — and a generalized all-over ache that left him feeling miserable, unable to find a single comfortable (nay, just non-miserable) position no matter where he stood, sat or lay.

“This is how I imagine you feel every day,” he moaned, as he tossed his body into a different awkward position in an attempt to find some relief.

He needed the still, quiet, restful sleep so badly, but hurt too much to stay lying in place in bed for more than a few moments, and the pain was too distracting to be able to actually fall asleep — and precisely because of this, he was in no condition to be anywhere else but in bed sleeping. A familiar situation for me.

A few minutes later, already in his thirtieth position attempting to achieve some state of rest in bed, he pushed over to where I sat on my side of the bed and asked, “How do you do this every single day?”

Staring at my nightstand drawer, I smiled a bit and replied, “A lot of medicine. And you to help me.”