There is hope for depression

I’ve always been a strong believer that mental health must precede physical health. In fact, the two fit closely together like a sneaker on a marathon runner‘s foot. In order for someone to be physically fit, a state of mental well-being is an essential first step.

But depression is a horrible, horrible disease — one that too often leads to a tragic ending for those suffering its awful wrath.

Depression contributes to 38,000 suicides per year — that’s one death every 14 minutes. It’s also higher than the death rate from homicide, second leading cause of death for college students, third for ages 15-24 and fourth for ages 24-65, according to Dr. Dwight L. Evans, Chairman of the Department of Psychiatry at the University of Pennsylvania, who spoke during a Manhattan-based seminar.

Yes, this is a true problem. It’s real. And it’s not funny.

Dr. Evans added, “Depression isn’t just a disorder of the brain, it’s a disorder of the body.”

He couldn’t be more right.

Depression can cause symptoms such as insomnia, appetite loss, weight change, fatigue, aggression, workaholism, substance abuse and reckless behavior. What freaks me out the most about this disease is personal one: my potential inability to recognize that someone I know is battling depression, until it’s too late, and they end up taking their own life.

I’ve seen it happen to people around me — special people who’ve suddenly committed suicide due to depression. It leaves one quasi-speechless, even if you’re not extremely close with the victim.

I’ve had the opportunity recently to take a couple steps forward and attempt to make a positive impact on the depression pandemic. Someone who is close to me was suffering rounds of depression, secondary to an addiction to heroin and attempts to withdraw. The drug is an evil epidemic on Long Island, has extremely addictive properties and can wreck havoc on the mind — and body — during attempts at becoming clean.

But he came to me for help, to mentally keep him in the healthy game. We spoke every day, sometimes many times each day. But that’s fine with me, because, in a way, sometimes I felt lost in his situation. I’d never been through this with someone before, and I didn’t know what he was truly experiencing, besides what he told me.