There is some sad news in the blogging world today. Alex Williams at The New York Times:
Heather Armstrong, the breakout star behind the website Dooce, who was hailed as the queen of the so-called mommy bloggers for giving millions of readers intimate daily glimpses of her odyssey through parenthood and marriage, as well as her harrowing struggles with depression, died on Tuesday at her home in Salt Lake City. She was 47.
A decade ago, my wife and I saw our entire lives change in a moment when our oldest son was diagnosed with brain cancer.
That moment, of course, was a series of events. First, a checkup at the pediatrician’s office that ended with our doctor raising some concerns. Then the ultrasound the next day that ended with the doctor telling us to drive to the local children’s hospital, without stopping. There was a team of doctors and nurses waiting for us, he said.
Adrianne Jeffries:
Of course, depression can be difficult to synthesize into a math problem. The cause is usually a combination of cascading factors that are often difficult to trace. The solution can be even harder to pin down.
A fascinating read about a truly tragic phenomenon.
Kevin Breel, on the To Write Love on Her Arms blog:
My story is this, in four simple words: I suffer from depression. I suffer from depression. And for a long time, I think, I was living two totally different lives, where one person was always afraid of the other. I was afraid that people would see me for who I really was. That I wasn’t the perfect, popular kid in high school who everyone thought I was. That beneath my smile there was struggle, and beneath my light there was dark, and beneath my big personality just hid even bigger pain.
An hour before I started writing this, I was soaking in my bathtub, listening to Back to Work, feeling crappy about my week and sorry for myself.
On Monday, our son’s latest MRI reported that his cancer remains stable. While his tumor will never go away, he’s now been off chemo for almost two years with no new growth.
On Wednesday, he had a subdural port removed. This hardware was used to deliver medication (including chemo), donated blood, fluids and more to his small system when he was undergoing treatment.
But in 2005, Wallace made news of his own when he acknowledged his longtime war with depression – a fight that nearly caused him to take his own life.
“I came perilously close to committing suicide,” Wallace wrote in his memoir “Between You and Me.”
[…]
Going public with his struggle did much to help others know they weren’t alone, said Dr. Charles Raison, CNNhealth’s mental health expert.
Yet many people won’t tell their primary care doctor that they’re suffering symptoms of depression because they’re afraid they’ll be prescribed antidepressants, according to some new research. And the people who are suffering the most are the ones least likely ask for help.
There’s long been a stigma about mental illness, and though people are far more upfront about depression than they were in years past, that stigma hasn’t gone away. Just ask someone who’s been turned down for life insurance because they took antidepressants long ago, or someone who’s afraid to tell the boss why they’re struggling to make it in to work.
My buddy Ian Hines, in a post about Molly Zametkin:
Yet as someone who lives and breathes on the internet, I can very closely relate to her concerns about how your Google search results can affect your reputation. ADHD is strongly associated with unreliability and underachievement — two things no budding professional wants to highlight at the top of their resume.
But what I think Molly has realizing — and what I’d emphasize to anyone in a similar situation who may be reading this — is the simple truth that while you may have ADHD, you aren’t ADHD. Your condition does not define who you are, anymore than poor vision or asthma would.
I just wanted to thank everyone who sent me an email, shot me a note on Twitter or even called me after reading my post about depression. Your concern for me is deeply touching, and simply blows me away.
This song came to mind, as I was looking over the responses I received:
Walked out this morning, don’t believe what I saw Hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore Seems I’m not alone in being alone Hundred billion castaways, looking for a home
I’ve never cried listening to a podcast. But as I listened to episode 14 of the Enough podcast driving home the other night, I just about lost it.
Patrick Rhone opened up about some things that are super personal, and in a way that was so honest, so sincere, I just want to give the guy a hug and thank him for his words.
But it wasn’t just Patrick’s honesty about his past that blew me away — it was my present.