Four years and four days ago was the last time the lights went out.

That was my last major clinical depression: Four years and four days ago.

I got up at about 4:30 am. I didn’t wake up because I wasn’t actually asleep. I got up – meaning I got out of bed. Took my dog to the dog park and sat on a picnic table. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I wasn’t exactly crying because crying takes emotional exertion and I had run out of that. It was more like just water dripping from the corner of each eye.

I am a clean & sober recovering alcoholic/addict but I made one last desperate attempt to make myself feel better. I went to spin class at the gym. Exercise is one of my addictions. I love the endorphins. But that morning there were no endorphins. I pedaled so hard that my lips flapped and foam gathered in the corner of the mouth. Nothing. No endorphins. My legs quivered. Nothing.

I showered and went to work. As I walked by the security guard I felt like I wasn’t in my body. I walked into the newsroom, sat at my desk and looked out the window. Then the lights went out.

I left. I went home and did an excruciating free-fall into my black hole.

That was four years and four days ago.

The day the lights went out.

I look back and think how blessed I am to have had that day and to be here to honor it. That day marks the end of my old life. Something died in me that day and it was a horrible, slow death. It was months before I could see the light and breathe again.

I drove to the Florida Keys last weekend. It was late Saturday afternoon when I crossed the peak of the Card Sound Bridge — a huge, arching bridge the connects the mainland to the northern tip of Key Largo. It is holy spot – where you cross from your old life of trudging the road to happy destiny to your new life of wild, uncharted beauty. At the top of the bridge I rolled down my windows. In that delicious yellow, pink light of later afternoon I looked around. I was surrounded by an endless horizon of blue water dotted with uninhabited mangrove islands.

I asked myself, “How could you have ever wanted to kill yourself?”

That was four years and four days ago.

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From Psych Central's website:
PsychCentral (April 29, 2010)

    Last reviewed: 29 Apr 2010