I've had depression most of my life, since adolescence. I've been on SSRIs for probably 30 years. The depression seems to be cyclic. About a year ago, after 31 years of marriage and with two grown young sons, I decided to go off antidepressants. They made me feel empty and disconnected. Then late last year my dad passed away, our dog died and I unknowingly slipped into a downward spiral. The black dog bit me hard and with a vengeance I have never known before. My wife wanted me out of the house. I spent the worst 48 hours of my life in a hotel room, alone, not sleeping, endlessly playing out how I would end my life. What stopped me was the thought of the pain I would inflict on my family. They talk of going to hell when you die but only the living can truly experience its horror. I have now seen my GP, resumed antidepressants and am slowly climbing out of the darkness. But now, I think, my wife and family do not want me back home. For a while, or maybe forever, I am not sure. My recent episode has shaken them to the core. If it was one tenth as bad for them as it was for me, then I can understand that. But here's my point and why I am writing, for the first time, to this forum. I don't know how I can begin again without being with my family. Without the chatter over the dinner table, the afternoon strolls, "it's a lovely day, let's do to the beach", "you'll never guess what happened to me today". The thought of being separated from that is too much to bear. I cannot expect my family to live with my depression. But I struggle to find any purpose to go on without them. I cannot face another blank wall, an empty silent room. The thought of it is like a cold hand gripping my heart. I know the right thing to do it accept and deal with it. But I am struggling to find the strength. The allure of "escape" is strong. Anything to stop the pain. If I could just envision a life beyond fog of now . . .
