I believe we have a responsibility for our own happiness. That said, sometimes life happens. If you haven't had life happen to you yet, it's because you haven't lived long enough. When it does happen, you might become depressed. I am a strong person. I share my stories of struggle because I am strong enough to not worry about water cooler chatter. I am strong enough to share what worked in my case and I hope it encourages someone else that may be experiencing a similar challenging situation.
Depression doesn't care how much money you have or don't have. Depression does not care what our skin color is, our age or gender. Depression will try to isolate you. This is how I think of depression. It is something to be fought.
One step I took in the direction of finding a happy place was to start thinking of things that might interest me. Activities that would force me to be around friends and peers doing something fun. I thought about taking an art, pottery or painting class. I considered an exercise class, Zumba or Pilates. Then I discovered tennis. I was in my late thirties when I became a tennis addict.
I enjoyed my time on the tennis court. For me the one to two hours on the court were an awesome escape. The only thought in my head during those two hours was to hit that little yellow ball back over the net. There wasn't time to think about the responsibilities of the day or the future. It was living in the moment. The other thing about tennis is that you can't play it alone. Tennis is a great way for paths to cross of individuals that otherwise may never have met. Part of the healing with depression is the need to connect to other individuals.
On a serious note, I would like each American reading this to please support increased funding for mental health care. I had the experience, during my stay in New Orleans, to interact with the homeless. Are you aware that the homeless shelter charges $8 a night to stay there? Most are mentally ill, drug addicts, or both. My daughter and I would make food bags of the left-over food donated by parents of students from the school where my daughter taught. The generosity of the parents at the school was heartwarming. This giving and interaction with the homeless would help us feel better as we struggled for happiness during Anabelle's illness.
Later that year my daughter became ill under the stress of her dying daughter. She had been working full time at the French private school in the city where she was insured. Her partnership ended and their thriving Wine & Cheese Dive had to be sold. I took a leave of absence to care for Anabelle and Nikki. The care Nikki received was inadequate to keep her safe. She was a vulnerable adult. By nothing less than a miracle from God, she is alive and well today.
There are untreated mentally ill people in jails today that don't have a voice. There are many still sleeping on the street. There are those that have had families ask, no beg, for help. No one is listening. I live the Serenity Prayer. I recognize I have no control over the negligent early releases and the resulting devastating effects that often occur. I do, however, have control over telling the story of what happens so we can come together as a country that says, "We Care."
May you never lose hope and may peace find you wherever you go.
Jackie
