My mother was raised in Mexico. She was the oldest of four sisters in a home with a strict Victorian upbringing. My father is of Mexican descent. He was raised in Arizona in a family of 13. He was big, strong, handsome and violent. Both of my parents always placed a great deal of value on strength of character, hard work, and conformity.Life was a set of responsibilities and appearances. There was little outward affection or thoughtful communication in my immediate family. Once divorced, my mother conducted life with a great deal of determination to provide for a family of four children. It was a traumatic time of emotional struggle and cultural disparity. There were few resources available to single mothers and latchkey children.Pride did not allow my mother to stand in welfare lines, nor was it appropriate to ask for help from extended family due to the embarrassment of a failed marriage. There was no time or energy for efforts of understanding, support, and nurturing.

My story begins with this brief discussion of my background because these facts have had a great impact on understanding and handling what now appears to be an inherited disease, the mental illness of Depression. Until recently society viewed this condition as a personal weakness and treated it with a get-tough attitude. There seemed to be little information or understanding of this illness. Looking back now, I recognize the loss of time and productivity as a result of wrestling with an intangible ghost. Environmental issues of violence, chaos, rage, loneliness, and alcohol are reactions and contributors to the pain of this disease. Strong cultural attitudes did not allow discussion and commanded me to endure my problems in a stoic manner. On one hand, there is an element of shame, and on the other there is an issue of responsibility. This was my family experience, enduring chaos in silence for the sake of a questionable image. I learned later that chaos became a habit, or perhaps it was the only environment with which I could relate.

I married and divorced at a young age. Having been programmed to keep personal weaknesses private, I did not seek therapy. Faced with raising two young children alone, I created activity as stimulation to offset the lows of depression from the stress. Unfortunately it was negative stimulation. I was not capable of managing my impulses and environment. My life became manic. At some point, I recognized a pattern of behavior and vowed to make an effort to improve the situation for my children. I accepted an offer to visit a university in another town. Encouraged by the possibility of a new path for my life I took a big step, still not aware of the imbalance. This choice led to some wonderful experiences, but I was not able to escape the tremendous low moments. As difficult as was to go against my upbringing, I sought welfare assistance for food and health care while I became a student. Understood as part of a plan to be self sufficient, I made this choice but the atmosphere was stressful. I began to feel defeated and even began to identify with street people. The lows and confusion were getting stronger. I couldn't focus or think straight. I was forced to talk to someone at the university clinic but my condition was so bad I could only cry throughout the session. Without progress or understanding of what was happening to me I quit therapy and grew desperate. The overwhelming stress eventually crushed me. I was identified as a threat to myself and was hospitalized.

Although this experience was traumatic beyond description, it was the turning point for myself, and my family. I learned to speak out yet maintain self-respect; that not all professional help will meet my needs. Overall, I learned not to be embarrassed of a condition that is now considered a disease, a chemical reaction I have learned to live with. I know how to manage my life now and to avoid elements, which threaten my health. I know what it is to be empowered.

Reaching this level was not easy, but I have learned a lot. I am able to recognize the stressful situations, which set off episodes of depression. I have developed healthy activities that help me get stronger. This condition is noticeable in other family members. It has been comforting to know that my experiences have opened up the opportunity to discuss their situation, and to trust in seeking help. Acquiring the tools to care for myself has affected other areas of my life. I am pleased that my story may possibly help another come to terms with similar challenges.

Anonymous