It is hard to avoid bad news these days. There are good news stories and we are surrounded by amazing individuals, but when I turn on the television or radio it makes the world seem like a crazy place.
It was so crazy last week as the world watched in horror as a young man earned the name "Canadian psycho." The story is horrific and it makes one wonder how one human could do such evil to another.
There were stories recently about blaming drugs created to help people for horrific crimes. I remember hearing about a drug for depression with suicidal side effects and it made no sense to me.
I've heard of too many tragic suicides recently in our area and wish there was a way stop the trend. I fear mental illness is still too much of a taboo topic.
I was on antidepressants for a few months over a decade ago. When I was diagnosed with depression it made certain things in my life make sense. I could understand the sadness that appeared without much provocation and the times when I had been more sensitive to things than others.
I found by naming the condition I could face it and it wouldn't have any power over me but, by naming it once it is now part of my permanent record. It is always part of medical questionnaires and other documents and sometimes I feel my emotions aren't taken seriously because they can be brushed aside as part of a mental illness if something triggers sadness or hurt.
I understand why people keep their depression a secret. There are varying degrees of the condition and times when the unspeakable happens because no one has spoken up.
I watch for the signs of depression in my own children. I can trace my own history back to periods in my teenage years when I didn't know why I was always crying and feeling hopeless and I believe it runs in families.
I wasn't diagnosed until I was 30 and was initially relieved to learn more about the condition. My children are beautiful, talented, generous and sensitive. I like to believe I was as well, but it didn't stop the pain of the sad periods.
Wonderful people from all walks of life suffer from varying degrees of mental illness. Some don't know what is weighing them down, some seek treatment and thrive, some are too ashamed to talk about it.
We can talk openly about diseases of the body from the smallest aches to the most disgusting lesions, but it seems the mind is a different story. We can't see it, we can't put a bandage on it, but we should be able to talk about it.
Mental illness comes in many forms and severities. We should talk about it. I know I'm not a psycho or crazy, I'm just a little sad sometimes, but really, I'm OK and I'm strong enough to share it with you.
