The Queen Mum Lives

In my entire life, I can honestly say that I have never been “depressed”.  I may be snarky, but I am basically a happy person.

Baby Blues?  Had ‘em.

A few moments/days/weeks of self-pity?  Sure

But the all-consuming, need medication, life-altering depression?  Hasn’t happened.

And like so many other things in life, because I haven’t experienced it I have a hard time understanding it.  I have a hard time understanding how someone with whom I can laugh, joke and drink can be depressed.  How the guy sitting next to me at Thanksgiving with a big smile on his face is depressed.  When I find out that they are that way because they are medicated, I can’t imagine why anyone would want to go off their meds.

I can’t imagine why anyone would go in to the woods behind his parents house and blow his face off.

I can’t imagine why two years later, his brother wouldn’t be extra vigilant about his meds so that he doesn’t accidentally overdose on them.  Or purposely take too many at a time when he seemed to be getting back on his feet, was in a job that made him happy and getting ready to finally move out of his parents house.  Whichever one it was, I can’t imagine why.

I can’t imagine how to console my future sister-in-law who also suffers from her own bouts of depression and help her through losing a 2nd brother in 3 years because of depression…except this time it wasn’t “just” her brother.  It was her twin.  The only person in her family that she wanted at her wedding to my brother.

We have considered her family for years.  Now we are all she has…the only family that she will talk to.

And I’m scared to death that she will take the same path as her brothers.

And I don’t understand how to help her.  How to help my brother to help her.

How not to lose her.