I’ve been on the wrong side of happy since I was 4, when my parents split. I don’t remember a sense of devastation, but I doubt this was a coincidence. An adverse
childhood event such as divorce increases the risk of depression, especially when coupled with my father’s history of mental illness.
Genes play a role in mood disorders, but they don’t write your destiny — the same way having a family history of alcoholism doesn’t mean you’ll become an alcoholic. I had been moderately depressed my whole life. I seized control of it when I stopped blaming my history and focused on my brain. Specifically, the negative thought loops that were keeping me
down.
Research shows that factors such as unfulfilling work and increasing isolation affect our mood, but the idea of making grand life changes such as quitting your job so you can toss your meds isn’t a realistic option for most. And for many, such as me, that might not even do the trick.
I loved my first job. I worked with inspiring colleagues on meaningful projects, but the pressure of proving myself left me with butterflies in my stomach for a year. Anxiety worsened my
depression, triggering a panic attack that left me gasping for air and feeling as though the world were disintegrating around me. A calming nurse and a prescription for Xanax may have saved my life.
It’s hard to pinpoint when my depression started. I know my habit of ruminating — a risk factor for depression — started before I could tie my shoes. I worried about everything from the decimation of the rain forest to my family’s safety. If I let my guard down, I was sure disaster would
strike.
But my first diagnosis didn’t come until my final year of high school. After more than six months of spontaneous crying spells, bouts of paranoia and a diagnosis of irritable bowel syndrome, I told my mom I needed help. My father never got a handle on his mood, so I knew the warning signs. A psychiatrist diagnosed me with clinical depression at 17 and suggested...
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