Birthdays and Anniversaries: A Prescription for Depression

Several dates cluster together over a few months of the year that I anticipate bringing up difficult thoughts and feelings. I know I'll get through them. The question is, will they deepen the depression in which I currently find myself?

When did we get old?

First, there is my birthday – turning 63. In 2 years, I will be eligible for Medicare. I will not retire for years. I can't afford to. One benefit of being a social worker is experience is valued and it's a career that utilizes the brain, so we can work as long as our cognitive abilities are not compromised.

I speak to my brother who is only 18 months younger than me. We are best friends as he and I weathered the storm of our chaotic upbringing together.  He emerged relatively unscathed. He has been there for me throughout my mental illness with unconditional and unwavering support. We ask each other, "When did we get old?"

I'll grow old alone. I've accepted that. I'm not the healthiest person physically, and although I can function now and do most tasks around the house for myself, I anticipate the day will come when that will not be the case.

Depression triggers on certain dates

As my birthday approaches, a shroud of depression washes over me. Not specifically because I'm getting older. I've never considered Botox injections for my wrinkles or fillers for the deep grooves in my face. It's the anticipation of aging alone and not wanting to be a burden on anyone else in my life, namely my brother.

Five years ago, I had a stroke. The symptoms occurred in the middle of the night, and thank goodness I was able to get myself to the hospital. I live in fear of something like that happening again and what if the symptoms are more debilitating and I’m incapacitated? It's both terrifying and depressing to think about.

Anniversary of my suicide attempt

I also face the annual anniversary of my 4th and most recent suicide attempt (10 years ago this year). Additionally, my most recent psychiatric hospitalization. A decade without a suicide attempt and an inpatient stay for someone with over 20 inpatient admissions and four suicide attempts is cause for... I'll say, "cautious optimism."

Because of my feeling, there are no guarantees. Especially because I'm hard-wired with pre-programmed DNA loaded with depressive genes that have been passed through at least the last 3 generations of our family.

These days can be triggers for my depression

That's the caveat. While it feels gratifying to cross off Roman numerals on an imaginary blackboard and make it to the numeral X, when I never have before, I can't imagine I will escape the rest of this life unscathed without suffering another severe depressive episode.

Which for me includes suicidal ideation and psychosis, and typically leads to an inpatient admission. Every day on this anniversary, I exhale just a bit more, knowing that I've survived another year, but also look forward with trepidation and fear.

Fearful of another depressive episode

It's another cloud hanging over my head, wondering not if, but when. Wondering if this past year of high-functioning depression will morph into a full depressive episode. Wondering what it will take to push me over the edge.

This past week at work was extremely stressful and left me questioning if the way I was pushing myself was sustainable. Will that be what it takes? Will I wake up one day and not have the wherewithal to get out of bed? To walk my dog? Will my meds just someday stop working? That has happened in the past. When I start to think of these potential scenarios for myself, tears fly down my cheeks.

Memorial of a loved one

I also faced the 22nd anniversary of my mother's death this year. I've been missing her a lot. Two of my clients have recently lost one of their parents. Several of my colleagues at work are dealing with clients who are struggling with pancreatic cancer, and that was my mother's diagnosis, so I feel as though I'm being reminded of her death almost constantly.

I was 41 when she died, still very much in the grips of my mental illness. She was diagnosed in December of 2001 and died in early March of 2002. I'm thankful for those 3 months with her that gave my brother and me time to say goodbye.

She and I were extremely close, you could say enmeshed. One of my biggest regrets is that she didn't live to see me recover and that we never got the chance to have an emotionally healthy mother-daughter relationship.

Remembering my mother

My mother was a woman ahead of her time. In the late 1950s, before she had my brother and me, she was one of the few female computer programmers in the country.  She gave up her career to stay home to raise her children.

I always said to my psychiatrist that I believe that if she was born later when women had more choices, she would have chosen to be child-free and to continue with her career. I know she loved my brother and me, but she also had 2 illegal abortions after my brother was born.

My mom amazing and I miss her deeply

After my father lost his job due to his alcoholism in 1973, when I was an adolescent, she opened a needlepoint and knitting store. She calculated the patterns for her customers by hand as it was before personal computers. When my parents divorced during my senior year of college in 1982, she returned to school to update her computer skills. She opened her own custom software development company and was extremely successful until her death.

I still miss her so much. They say grief comes in waves and right now I feel caught in a tsunami.

Coping with difficult days with depression

I anticipate the next few months will be difficult and depressing. I live in the Northeast where during the winter months it’s freezing and windy, often cloudy.  I’m not looking for any miracles. I just don’t want to slip down into that dark abyss of depression from which I have to claw my way out. Sometimes, I lack the fight within.