I know it’s been a while. In fact, I’ve opened up the computer to sit and write, and I’ve stopped. I could blame it on being busy, or uninspired, or just plain laziness. But the truth is, I’ve been hiding.
2011 was a great year for me. While I didn’t exactly overcome all the hurdles I had been jumping, I felt like I made progress. I clawed my way back to Denver in a way that made me feel like I had succeeded, but not even my closest friends know that I am still hanging on by fingernails each day. I accomplished a lot of goals and faced minimal setbacks. Opportunities kept arising that seemed to affirm my decisions. It was all good.
But one very big thing happened that I have not shared with anyone but my closest friends and family, mostly because I didn’t think it was that big a deal until they all responded to the news: in September, my doctor diagnosed me with moderate to severe depression.
Now this is no major surprise to me, or even to my mom, whose response was, “thank God one of my kids is finally getting help.” But it was a bitter pill to swallow. Honestly, I’d been in denial for the past 10 or so years, and reading back through old journals further highlights that fact. But the most difficult thing for me to deal with and accept was the realization that I’m following in my dad’s footsteps.
I’m the same age as he was when he was first diagnosed, and I’m just as notorious as he is for selfishly chasing my dreams in the name of my family, regardless of the consequences that seem to arise as a result. It’s funny that my dad and I are so alike. It scares me too. Mostly because I don’t want to be him in 20 years. And I certainly don’t want to deal with the nightmare that is bi-polar.
Anyway, I’ve had a lot to share, but have been a bit subdued and withdrawn along with it, so it’s been hard to write. I have some pretty lofty goals this year though, and if last year is any indication of what I can accomplish, I will be doing just fine.