Depression is one of those words that anyone hates to hear but yet so many hear it everyday. I remember the first time I heard that dreadful word, Mrs. Scott, I’m sorry to tell you this but you are suffering from DEPRESSION…What me? No, I’m not depressed, I can’t be, I don’t have time for this.
I wasn’t diagnosed with depression until 2003 but the doctor had told me I had been suffering from it for several years. He then proceeded to ask me what had happened in the past that could have brought on the depression. I then proceeded to think and the only thing that I could remember was October 9, 1998 and then November 26, 1999. On October 8, 1998, we lost my grandmother Hansel Towery, she was a vital part of my life, more like a mom than a grandma. She was always there when I had a problem and she always knew what to say. But I will never forget the last words I spoke to her. She had just been released from the hospital, and I had called her to see how she was and to let her know I would be over on Friday to see her. I told her I loved her and she said, “I love you too and I can’t wait to see you.” I then told her, “Maw maw, I will see you on Friday.”
Friday came and after I picked my husband up from work and then took the boys to the doctor, we went to go pay some bills. When I arrived to pay one bill, the lady, who was a good friend of my parents, told me that I needed to call my parents. (And I know what your thinking, No I didn’t have a cell phone at that time) So, I called and didn’t get any answer, so I called back to my house and checked the messages. First message from my mom, “Crissy, get to the hospital now, they have taken your grandma, she’s not going to make it.” Next message, “Crissy, she’s gone, please get her soon.” I slammed the phone down and broke down crying.
We left and went to the hospital; by the time I got there everyone else had left. I told the ladies at the emergency room who I was and who I was there to see, still in shock and couldn’t believe it. Five minutes passed and a nurse came out, she took me in a room and proceeded to tell me what I had already known, Mrs. Scott, I’m sorry but she didn’t make it. She took me back to the room they had her in and told me, they had her revived for a few minutes and all she talked about was her kids and grandkids and her great-grandkids. She loved you all very much and was very proud of each one of you. I looked at my grandma and cried and begged for her to come back to me, but nothing, she left me alone in this world to find my own way. I was so angry, angry with myself for not spending more time with her, angry with my husband because I felt he took me away from her, and angry with God for taking someone who was loved and needed. This was the worst day of my life.
I believe I just floated through life after that, because the next thing I remember was finding out that I was pregnant. About 5 days before Halloween 1999, I found out I was pregnant and after I told my husband and mom and dad, I called my grandpa and told him I was pregnant. You could hear the excitement in his voice; everyday I talked to him and that’s all he talked about was how he couldn’t wait till I had the baby and how he wished grandma was still alive to see this. The happiness ended just 2 weeks later when I had to call him and tell him that I had a miscarriage. There wasn’t going to be a baby. I could hear the sadness in his voice, he started to cry, broken hearted he handed the phone to his sister who told me he couldn’t bare the news and couldn’t talk. I still talked to him but could always hear the sadness in his voice. November 26, 1999, my phone rang and I answered the call from my mom, “Crissy, get to the hospital, they had to take your grandpa, he fell.” Oh no, not again, I can’t do this, is all I was thinking.” So, we loaded the car with the boys and my niece and headed to the hospital. We arrived and I ran in, my dad was still there waiting; he took all of us back to the room. I ran to his bedside and I was too late again. I said my goodbyes and cried, and cried and cried. I could hardly stand, my dad had to hold me up. “No Lord, not again please, please, please, don’t take him too.” That’s all I could say, that’s all that ran through my mind.
My life was a blur, how could I go on. I had lost all hope and all reason to live, but two short weeks later I found the will to go on. I found out I was pregnant, and believe the doctors were like “you can’t be.” But yes I was and when I went to the doctor, they figured it out that she was conceived two days before my grandfather died. That gave me hope that there is still a God and Yes He loves me.
The death of these two wonderful people put me in a downward spiral that had its good times and bad times. No matter what happened to me after these two events, I never let them go, I could never go on with my life. And that is what depression does to you, it literally kills you, drains you of all your energy. I gained weight, shut out people who love me and it even was destroying my marriage. But it wasn’t until I found out what depression was and decided that I couldn’t be mad at God anymore. That He loved me, look at all that He had given me. That I could start to recover and try to get back to my old self, the person I was before tragedy hit.
I have dealt with depression for 16 years, some good days, some bad days and some in-between days. Even though I have this illness (that’s what I call it), I control it, I hold the switch in my hand and I have to make the decision whether or not it’s going to control me. I have to put God first in my life and I have to quit telling myself, “You’re fat, you’re ugly, you’re a bad mom, you’re a terrible wife, you can’t do nothing right, etc.” I have to turn off the chatterbox and learn to live. Cut out the drama, the negativity, surround myself with people who care and always remember that God doesn’t make any junk. And when I do these things, I am free from Depression, I am free to live, I am free to be the person God made me to be.