Health & Wellness

"I've Got to Get the Driver Out!"

admin — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 12:18:02 -0600

"I don't know why you're trying to control my life!" I yelled. "I'm not doing drugs like some kids. I'm not going out and getting drunk every night. Why don't you just leave me alone?"

The truth was my parents had good reason for concern. The only classes I was passing in high school were country-and-western dancing and athletics. At home, I fought constantly with my parents, breaking their rules by staying out until 4 a.m.

Noteworthy

batch — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 20:22:49 -0500

Depression hit me out of nowhere, just like before. One day I was myself and the next I was consumed by sadness and anxiety.

I lost my appetite for everything—food, sleep, reading, working around the house. My brother and sister-in-law thought it would be beneficial if I moved back to my home state of Mississippi to stay with my family.

"Think of this as a rainstorm you are driving through," Fran told me at their house. "It seems never-ending. But it will end. The sun will shine again."

A Whispered Message

nhammerling — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 13:36:06 -0600

My son was 3 years old, healthy and active. I knew I'd been blessed. I should have been the happiest person on earth. Instead my days were filled with depression.

The guilt alone threatened to drive me mad. My deep sadness was almost unbearable, but I kept it to myself as best I could. I hid it from my husband and my friends. I was embarrassed to tell my doctor.

I went to church on Sundays, but I felt like a fake in God's house. I went through the motions, but I couldn't pray. How could I when hope had left me stranded?

My Mysterious Visitors

batch — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 20:21:44 -0500

Last Christmas got off to a promising start. Alison and I and the children—two of our four were still living at home—had picked out a tree, and its lights were twinkling merrily in the living room.

I had lit a fire to take the edge off our raw English air. And then 12-year-old Matthew asked me a question that would have been perfectly natural in any other household: "Dad, would it be all right if I put on some Christmas music?"

"Of course," I said too quickly.

Surviving Postpartum Depression

jbloustein — Fri, 29 May 2009 14:34:48 -0500

In the early weeks of my first pregnancy, I braced myself for the misery of morning sickness.

At seven weeks, when the nausea hit, it was worse than I'd imagined. I had pictured an upset stomach, maybe a bit of vomiting in the morning. I hadn't foreseen an all-day sickness that made my mouth taste like dirt and made me loathe even the thought of food.

But I found comfort knowing I wasn't alone. As I gagged on Saltine crackers, I reminded myself that it was a normal part of pregnancy. It would come to an end.

The Healer

jbloustein — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 13:17:44 -0600

I was trying to pray when it happened. Desperately.

Dark feelings I’d been holding back for days like some terrible tide, feelings of worthlessness and exhaustion, overcame me.

I forced myself to keep reading the Psalm I had in front of me, but all I really wanted to do was give up. Just close my eyes and never open them again. Anything to make this unnameable despair, this sadness beyond sadness I couldn’t seem to shake, go away.

Let There Be Light

admin — Tue, 01 Nov 2005 09:26:00 -0600

Presents to shop for, parties to go to, family visits to plan, big dinners to prepare. The holidays can wear down even the heartiest souls among us, as our to-do lists get longer and the days get shorter. But for the 14 million Americans who suffer from seasonal affective disorder (SAD), the winter blues can last well into January and February.

A Baby's Cry

batch — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 20:20:07 -0500

I ran my hand down the long, green knit belt dangling from the rail of the second-floor landing. So many times I had tied that belt around my waist when I wore my favorite dress. Now I looped it into a noose and slipped it over my head.

Just a few steps and I'd be free of the hopelessness that was crushing me. My husband was at work; 11-year-old Patti was at school; and I had just left three-month-old Skip upstairs sleeping in his crib, his stuffed lion at his side. There was no one to stop me from doing what I had decided was best.

Soldier Hopes Personal Story Will Help Others

batch — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 04:05:20 -0500

Army Captain Emily Stehr worked as a physical therapist helping other soldiers in Iraq, but after returning from deployment she found herself fighting against feelings of suicide.

In an interview with American Forces Press Service, Stehr said she wants others to read her personal story of living with depression and be motivated to seek help.

My Darkest Hour

admin — Fri, 31 Oct 2008 15:13:19 -0500

Like most people, I'd had days when I felt blue and it took more of an effort than usual to get through the things I had to do.

But I always snapped out of it.

Before I knew it, I would be corralling another reluctant interview subject for 60 Minutes or trying to whip a crosscourt forehand past my opponent in a tennis match.

Relentless as ever, basically. (And a pain in the neck to my colleagues at CBS News, who claim that "Mike Wallace is here" are the four most dreaded words in the English language.)