Hey friends...I've been - what we used to call Manic Depressive Type II- all my life, and I'm 47 now. I think the old term for it describes it better, frankly. And 47 yrs is a long time to be under the thumb of that miserable bugger, so I have learned an incredible array of coping skills, a lot of bad ones, and a lot of good ones. But I was treated for Depression, mistakenly, until after a personal tragedy when I was 40. Then I was rediagnosed and given the proper medication. WOW what a difference! Did it fix me? No. It all but banished the the hypomania quite easily, but the depression appears to be my lifelong buddy. I didn't join PsycheCentral looking for this forum feed specifically, but when I saw the "treatment resistant" feed I was kind of excited by the idea of finding others like myself. When, after a fews years of therapy and trying just about every drug under the sun, and FINALLY getting my hopes up that i wouldn't have to live like this forever, I was totally devastated to be told that they believed my depression was untreatable. I was truly heartbroken. I almost didn't survive the news. However...

Without going into detail, I had the great fortune of running into some people, some very stupid people, who treated me as though my life was as worthless as I also thought it was. It was fortunate, because when they started ACTING OUT those crazy and groundless thoughts I was having I could see how ridiculous they were. My life absolutely WAS worthwhile, even if I was not operating at 100% because of the depression and other disabilities. I learned from those jerks that the ONLY sane response to suffering is compassion. More than therapy, more than the right drug, what I needed to learn was to treat myself with more compassion.

Since that day I heard those people openly criticize me in the cruelest and dumbest ways for being less than capable because of my illness, I have not criticized or put myself down once. It has made all the difference. It seems that self-compassion and despair are not compatible.

Having a great doctor on your side to monitor your condition and who is willing to do what is necessary to make sure you don't go so low that you hit the floor is also necessary to a life worth living. Someone who is always keeping an eye out for a drug that may give you just a bit more relief. Someone who is unwilling to let you slip through the cracks. I have been blessed with a doc like that. She monitors me constantly just checking in with me to make sure that even when I'm down, I'm not so down that I don't feel my life is not worth living.

Good luck, Manquemen, if you're still around. And thank you to the others for letting me know I'm not alone. I needed to hear that. It's a hard cross to bear, so to speak. It can still be scary for me sometimes. This last LONG bout of depression is hanging on longer than usual.