Mental illness doesn’t run in my family, it gallops. But it never really affected me until seven years ago. That’s when I fell into a dark depression. Surprisingly, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. How could something as debilitating as depression be good?
The answer is that it was the catalyst for my personal growth. I’m a more open and compassionate person now, and humble too. Depression will do that, no extra charge.
When I hit age 57 an avalanche of health issues swept me off my feet, literally. I couldn’t get out of bed. I would hear my wife drive off to work and be overwhelmed with loneliness. I knew it was foolish to feel abandoned by such a trivial separation, but I still crawled back under the covers. The serpent wrapped himself around me. “I’ll do anything you want,” I whispered, “I’ll even kill myself. Just make the pain go away.” He smiled and squeezed even harder.