March 2004

This is my account of a lifelong struggle with depression which began in childhood as a result of sexual abuse, emotional neglect and growing up in a dysfunctional family.

It is my testament to the harm caused by not addressing personal problems. My life is the result of allowing problems to compound over the years.

I am a 62 year old man; living in Portland, Oregon USA; married three times; currently separated with divorce pending. At long last I am working to overcome my personal demons: fear, low self esteem, erratic self confidence, inward focus and withdrawal from the world, under developed social skills, avoidence of conflict and, paradoxically, on occasion an excess of ego and pride.

Born to Wander

Between my birth in 1942 and age 15 my family moved 18 times, often one step ahead of the landlord. At 15 we settled into a house at which I lived during my three high school years. Add in: alcoholic parents; a distant, philandering father; a mother who was not equipped to cope with such a life and had little time for anything other than working to put food on the table; emotional neglect; season with sexual abuse and you have a recipe for...well, me. None of my siblings made it out of childhood without scars. My older brother committed suicide at age 34.

My teen years were spent in hell. As a consequence I have never since feared the afterlife, if indeed there is one. Somewhere between ages 7-10 the outside world began to fall away. As time went on I became progressively more withdrawn and divorced from the real world. It was slow at first. But during my junior high school years (age 12 - 15) it accelerated. My high school years were excruciating. On a number of occasions I felt suicidal. One particular agonising occasion I remember being curled in a fetal position on my bed, in physical pain from absolute despair, unable and unwilling to face one more day of life. Had the means to take my life been at hand I doubt that you would be reading this

A Temporary Respite

Perhaps the best choice in life I ever made was to join the US Army in January 1961. It gave me time to clear my head. It brought me a few good friends for the first time in more than ten years. It allowed me to regain some confidence in myself. After the army I got lucky and fell into a job in the then new information technology field. In those days we called it data processing. I found it highly interesting. I became an achiever and I thrived. During the 60’s I managed to accumulate about 50 college credits while holding down a full time job. But I wasn’t sufficiently motivated to obtain a degree. I was doing fine without it. I was advancing rapidly and money was rolling in. Between 1964 and 1974 I worked in the data processing departments of two companies and in the marketing department for a computer equipment manufacturer.

I married in 1967 and divorced and remarried in 1973. Both marriages were hasty. Living alone I was emotionally very fragile. I needed to be with someone. I needed to be needed. I needed to love and be loved. I could not live alone. There was one big problem I failed to recognise—I didn’t know how to give love or accept love.

Had I sought therapy in the 60’s or early 70’s I believe Dysthymia would have been the diagnosis (if the condition had been recognized then). That my depression was mild was due I believe to my work and the intense satisfaction I derived from it. Without a challenging and rewarding career I have little doubt I would have dropped into full blown major depression.

My problems with alcohol began in 1969. Prior to then I drank rarely and sparingly. In 1969 my new job involved business meetings with clients, business travel, and hanging out with salesmen on the road. It was mild usage at first but escalated as the years went on. My problem with alcohol was that I didn’t know when to stop. I could go without drinking, but when I drank, I drank to excess.

In the Land of Chaos

In 1974 at age 32 I moved to Australia to assume overall management of a computer equipment distributor and wound up starting my own company (a long story). In 1977 I sold out, returned to the US, moved to Portland and started another company. This time a software development and consulting firm. In 1981 the combination of the end of my second marriage and extremely poor economy forced me to close the business and take a real job. I worked successfully, if not always happily, as an IT manager at a large company until 1989 when they were taken over by an even larger company who wanted to install their own management.

With my second divorce in 1981 it began to sink in that I wasn’t very good at the marriage thing. What a dilemma—not good at living alone and not good at living with another person. I resolved to learn to live with myself before I tried to live with another person again. The resolve didn’t last long. By 1984 I was living with another woman. We married in 1986.

I continued to be mildly depressed throughout ’70s and into the ’90s with each business or personal setback sending me temporarily into deeper depression. It was sheer will power and a brute force approach that kept me functioning at all, for so long. But my drinking continued to escalate. From 1982 through the early ’90s I would be out drinking after work two to four nights a week. After that most of my drinking was at done home, starting in the early evening and continuing until bedtime. I welcomed the numbing of feelings.

The Hammer Falls

From 1990 - 1995 I was with two small companies. The first one ran out of money and had to layoff the development staff. The second was a family owned company and I was just too damn independent and opinionated for my own good. The owner’s son and I did not see eye to eye. Guess who the owner decided to keep around. Thus began my downward spiral into full blown depression.

I was not happy at those jobs. I was drinking more and alone, both at home and at bars. My depression was worse. There seemed to be no more meaning to or pleasure from life. Without satisfying, rewarding work I was not a worthy person and I was very much afraid I would be found out.

Though I lived a substantial amount of time within myself I was not introspective. Until my world truly crumbled in 2003 I never opened a self help book. I didn’t need any of that motivational, insipirational, touchy-feely, self help stuff. Even in when it became more acceptable for men to expose themselves and reach out for help, I continued through life as I had from a very early age. I didn't know any other way. Not until I sought therapy in 2003 at the age of 61 did I learn that the coping skills I had adopted as a child, which were very appropriate for a child, had severely hampered me as an adult. I am now able to see that as an adult I had bound myself with chains which prevented any further growth.

Also, until 2003 I discounted my childhood experiences as a factor in my life. Hey...I didn’t have it so bad; a lot of people had a worse childhood than mine; I am responsible for who and what I am, not my parents.

I Lock the Doors & Shutter the Windows

By 1997 at the age of 55 I had to accept that I was no longer employable in my chosen career, at least in Portland. I was too old and considered to be over the hill. Technology was changing fast. The young, newly minted computer sciences graduate and those with just a few years experience were all the rage. Solid business experience was no longer in vogue. Technology and hype ruled the day.

That’s when I gave up on the job search and began the slide into very deep depression. I began withdrawing more and more from the world and consequently deeper and deeper into depression. In my mind I was, in so far as the world is concerned, a nothing. Without a good job, without the satisfaction that came from doing good things for the companies that employed me, I was nothing—no self respect, no self esteem, a failure. That was compounded by the thoughts of what must my wife think of me. How could she possibly respect me?

I can’t tell you what was really going through my mind between then and early 2003. It is all very fuzzy. My outside interests dwindled to zero. I had been a big fan of the Portland Winterhawks hockey team. It held no interest for me anymore. All my life I had been an avid reader. No more. It became impossible to maintain concentration, to get any joy from reading. Visiting and talking with people became a real chore. I cut contact with the one good friend I had. I felt that I could not hold my head up in the company of others who were productive members of society. By the end of 2002 I was as close to being in a vegetative state as one can be without actually being in a coma.

The Awakening

During a routine physical in 2002 my doctor prescribed a low dose of the antidepressent Wellbutrin to help me stop smoking (it is very effective at suppressing the need to light up). Late in 2002 I started taking them. I guess that even at the low dose there was just enough of an antidepressent effect to make me more aware of myself and the world around me; to make me realize that the way I was living (or better, not living) wasn’t right. That happened in late January 2003. I stirred myself and started researching depression on the web. It became obvious that I was suffering from major depression and that I needed help. That was a first for me: recognizing I could not handle something on my own and deciding to reach out for help.

It was also clear to me that my marriage was damaged. Just how much, I didn’t know. But since my wife had not walked out on me I believed that there was enough of it left to build anew. So when I sat down with my wife to ask for her support in helping me recover I was stunned to learn that she had decided a year before to divorce me. A second shockwave hit me when I learned there was another man in her life.

Checkout Time

I sat in my bedroom later that night with the door closed. I was numb, in shock. I began to take stock: 61 years old, physical health...not good; mental health...poor; no job or prospect of a job; no savings; no friends; no life. But instead of falling into deep despair, I found myself becoming very calm and relaxed; feeling relieved. It was an eerie yet strangely comfortable feeling. Life as I knew it was over and I accepted that. I knew with calm certainty that not only was I capable of ending my life but that I welcomed the opportunity at long last to end the pain of living. I went to sleep that night knowing I would seek out the means to end my life.

I slept like a babe. For the first time in I don’t know how many years I didn’t wake every hour or two. For the first time in ages I got more than four hours sleep in a night. I awoke in the morning feeling very refreshed; better than I remembered feeling for a long time. My resolve of the night before was still with me and I was still very calm and relaxed; still very comfortable with and confident of my decision. As I enjoyed a cup of coffee I began to think about the discussion with my wife the night before. I began to feel a sense of betrayal for her role as an enabler and for the selfish, calculated decision to divorce me and then take time to get her life in order before telling me of her decision. If I had not forced her hand by asking for help it would probably have been another year before she dropped the divorce bombshell on me. That she could not wait until our marriage was dissolved to seek out another man only added to the sense of betrayal. In my indignation I realized there was some fight left in me after all.

I made a decision to postpone my decision. Big step—two decisions in two days. I picked up the phone and called my health plan’s mental health facility. My very commonsensical reasoning was that if I could not be helped to find purpose in life, if when all was said and done my life was still bleak and without hope, then my original decision could as easily be implemented later as now.

Out of the Darkness

The next morning (one day in Feb. 2003) I was in the clinic talking with a triage therapist. Seems they don’t waste any time when suicide is mentioned. One day later I was attending a partial hospital outpatient program at a local hospital. It was an educational program (classes and group discussion) designed to impart information about depression; stabilize the patient (stop the slide into deeper depression); and provide basic skills and tools for coping with life on a day to day basis. Also, during the first day of the program I met with a psychiatrist and was put on a 300mg daily dose of Wellbutrin. It was an excellent program. If you have severe depression and are in the very early stage of recovery I would encourage you to discover whether or not something similar exists in your locale.

I came out of that progam knowing two things for certain. If I was to live I had to do so unafraid and I had to have a reason to live. I had to be able to find joy in life. I had to look forward to waking each morning.

I began to search for therapists with experience treating depression, relationship problems and victims of childhood abuse. The psychologists were all booked up but luck came my way with a referral from a psychologist to a new LCSW (Licensed Clinical Social Worker) in town who had such experience. I was doubly lucky because we clicked. I felt comfortable with him. He initially wanted to address my relationship with my wife. I didn’t want to do so at that time. I pointed out that I had problems long before I met her. That if I couldn’t get a handle on myself, on what caused my self destructive behavior there really wasn’t much sense in trying to fix our relationship. I felt there would be time to address the relationship later if my wife and I were so inclined. He agreed and over the course of three months or so I had weekly sessions with him, did a lot of research, reading and work on myself. For the first time in eight years I had a full time job and the job was me.

Another thing I did was to reach out first to my sister and later to my brother, both of whom live in other states. For years there had been only sporadic contact with my sister and virtually none with my brother. I wanted to change that. If I was going to continue living on this planet I knew I would need family. I am very happy to report that both of them welcomed my overtures and have been extremely supportive of me. In the past year I have spent many hours on the phone with them and six weeks visiting with my sister.

I made a great deal of progress in the period March through mid June of 2003. The antidepressent medication, therapy, diet changes, improved sleep habits, exercise and relaxation techniques brought improvement in my feelings and outlook. By learning about the effects of childhood neglect and sexual abuse and reading the experiences of others I at last began to understand my behavior; that it wasn’t arbitrary or genetically preordained. I began to realize I had bound myself as an adult with the chains of childhood. Those chains kept me from growing. I was determined to cut those chains; to be free. I also reflected on my adult life, in particular my striving for success and material possessions in a vain attempt to be worthy.

Into the Light

In June and July I did a great deal of work on different scenarios for my life in the future. Freedom was a recurring theme. I did not want to bind myself with a new set of chains just at I was peeling away the old constraints. This meant I had to be much more open to life and more tolerent of myself and others than I had been. I had to avoid the traps I fell into in the past in which freedom meant solely freedom from financial worry. Rather than measure my happiness and place in life by occasional big successes, I had to think instead in terms of little joys that I could make come my way on a daily basis. I had to accept that money was going to be tight. I began to have good feelings when thinking about giving up the large house on an acre plus lot overlooking the valley with a prime view of Mt. Hood. More and more a minimalist life began to appeal to me—a simple apartment or condo closer to the heart of the city, with easy access to Portland’s abundant theatrical and music performances. And most important, in the midst of other people.

I also thought about how nice it would be to travel, to liesurely tour the U.S. and Canada. But it would be expensive and not in the budget. Then one day I saw a motorcyclist with the back of his bike piled with traveling gear. I envied him as I remembered the exhilerating times on motorcycles back in my 20’s. Didn’t take me long to start thinking about it seriously. Today I have a small Honda beginners bike on which I am relearning to ride. It’s a bit scary and I’m still shaky but I will become competent enough to graduate to a mid size bike. I envision touring/camping in the Pacific Northwest during 2005. In 2006 I hope to move up to a still larger bike and began taking longer trips. As long as health permits I would like to travel North America during the spring through fall months. During the winter I can work at some type of low wage job and live inexpensively in Portland or perhaps near my sister in California. This plan is not cast in concrete but, regardless of the outcome I am enjoying working to make it happen.

Oops

By the end of 2003 I believed I had overcome depression. I was patting myself on the back for the strides I’d made during the year. I went off medication without adverse affects in the fall. I had one minor setback in late summer as a result of a dissapointing experience. It didn’t last long. I realized there would always be little things I’d have to deal with to keep them from building into serious bouts with depression. I was sure I was up to it. Then as February 2004 and the anniversary of what I think of as D day (discovery day) drew near. I found my mood descending lower and lower. That the weather was cold and dreary, and the skies dismal did not help I’m sure. I almost called my doctor for a Wellbutrin refill but decided to pay extra attention to doing the things I advocate in other sections of this website (taking the daily 9 to heart and living just for today) and wait a while to see if it would pass on its own. It did. As February turned into March my mood began to change for the better even though the weather didn’t substantially improve.

I’ve decided to stop thinking that I’ve overcome depression. Instead I think of it as lurking in the background, waiting for me to slip up and stop doing the things that keep it at bay. I’ve come to terms with many things in my life—offences perpetrated against me and my own less than stellar behavior throughout the years. I believe I can handle the future. My worries about the future have abated to concern instead of great fear. It is healthy I think to have some degree of concern lest I become complacent.

All in all I am satisfied with my progress and very happy to be among the living again. But I’m going to be careful about patting myself on the back henceforth.

Your's in health,

Richard Williamson
Portland, Oregon USA