Surviving Depression... (Update in OP)

This board has given me a whole lot, and I think it's only fair that I try to give something useful and meaningful back. Please note that I feel great today and am doing well; no one needs to worry about me. The reasons for that are below.

When I was 18 I met a fantastic girl; we fell in love almost immediately and had a wonderful, close and intense relationship. I had a great job here in Louisiana, but she moved to Georgia and I agreed to move there to be with her [insert beta comments here]. We had a great time; we did a little bit of traveling, had a great time together and things just kept getting better. It sounds ridiculous and cliche, but on a fantastically windy night with just the right amount of moonlight, on a beach in St. Augustine, Florida, I proposed to her. On one knee, in the surf. She said yes. It was one of the most amazing moments of my life. I had found the one, I was making good money living in Atlanta and things couldn't have been better.

The rest of the story involves a lot of ridiculous behavior on my part and a lot of less than logical choices on hers. Things didn't go well. We decided that we would be better off separate than together, had a rather heated discussion on whose fault the whole thing was, and broke up. I was miserable. I couldn't believe that things had gone the way that they had; that I'd gone from having a fantastic image and plan for my life, a partner that supported me, and two families that really did support us to living alone in a very big city on my own. It was shocking, incredibly depressing and utterly hopeless. I hated every bit of it. I hated myself. I hated her. I hated her family. I hated my family. I was unhappy with absolutely everything.

There was a positive turn shortly after. I was offered a job as an insurance agent. I accepted, and was going to be making good money again. I was going to be making friends again. I still wasn't happy. I hated that I was in Atlanta, not because Atlanta was a bad place, but because I knew that if I'd kept the job I'd had in Louisiana I'd have been making a hell of a lot more. I would have had all of my old friends around. I would have had my support group. I would have had all of the things that I really needed.

I wanted more. I wanted what I'd expected. I wanted what I thought I'd earned. I wanted what I'd sacrificed for. I wanted things to go back to the way they were. I had lost contact with my friends back in Louisiana, I hadn't really connected with any of these new people and couldn't really relate to them. I was feeling absolutely hopeless. I soldiered on. I wouldn't let myself be beaten. That, sometimes, is a mistake. Fighting on when you really can't go on isn't a great solution. Sometimes, you need to seek help.

On the night before I took the necessary exam for my new job in insurance, I had an anxiety attack. It was very sudden. My heart began to pound, my left arm became numb and began to tingle. I was frantic. I couldn't imagine what was happening, but I knew that whatever was going on was probably serious. I ran to the next house over and asked them if they'd call 911 for an ambulance. When EMTs arrived, they told me, accurately, that I'd had an anxiety attack. I was depressed thereafter, not because of the anxiety attack. Mainly just becuase I didn't feel any real confidence anymore. Nothing had really gone as planned up to this point, and it was easy to want to just quit. I wanted to kill myself. I thought about it seriously. I went so far as to throw away all of my knives and sharp things to make sure that I couldn't. I was doing my job, and doing it well; I was our only salesman and we were consistently in the top ten agencies in our region. I was a rockstar in my field and could have cared only slightly less. I did well for a few months, got bored, quit trying, and promptly found myself fired. I took another job, did well for a bit (the thing about depression is that you get easily motivated by things and, equally easily, find them pointless) and left again, this time for my own agency. It's all a bit of a blur, but at some point during this process, I began to see a psychiatrist.

I still couldn't make myself care. I was still hung up on what I'd expected to happen. But the medication began to work. Things began to be more clear. I wasn't well; far from it. I still longed for the life I'd anticipated. I'd still lost my savings. I was doing better towards the end of this period, but I quickly sunk back into depression after starting that agency. Things wouldn't work; every time there was progress, there was something detrimental. Contracts took forever to get, making sales was hard. I'll fast forward through most of this, because the cycle of excitement and giving not a single frick repeated itself.

I'd have a few drinks and things would seem better. Then I'd call people and talk about all sorts of bullshite that didn't matter at all. I'd be angry, I'd be friendly, I'd be totally idiotic and I'd wake up barely remembering it. I'd contemplate suicide again, never seriously (thank God that my bizarre sense of self worth endured no matter my behavior), and go on. If that was all to the story, it would just be depressing. But here's the thing:

I made the realization that if I was determined not to kill myself and was equally determined to make things right, to reclaim the life I'd wanted and to be the man I'd seen myself as, I'd just have to go back to doing what I'd done when I had everything.

A few weeks ago I met a girl that really interested me. We've talked a bit and while it's nothing like the relationship I had, I can see where it could lead to something. That hardly matters. The idea is that that sort of thing can still spring up. Hope, to be a bit cliche, really does spring eternal. If you look for it. Less than a week ago, I ran into someone who offered me a fantastic job in a field I absolutely love. It doesn't pay everything that I wish it would, but it does allow me to be interested in my work and get paid to do it.

I know that some of you deal with depression; statistically, at least, it's a sort of absolute that some of you must. I know I haven't dealt with some of the more intense pains that some of you have, but know that I've dealt with quite a bit. There's plenty more to the story, but this is the gist of it. I'm not a particularly amazing person, or particularly strong. But I've done it and feel better every day. If any of you need to talk to someone who's been where you are, you can email me.

Please, don't stop. The best moments come when things are darkest; a flash of light in absolute darkness is the very brightest light you'll ever see.

It's worth it to hold out and see it.

UPDATE: Things are still going very well and I'm thrilled that many of you were able to relate. Things continue to improve, I'm talking again to a girl I once had a great relationship with and think I'll likely get the job I was offered.

I have more energy every day, and positive results breed positive results. Some of you that are in sales know the following axiom: The best time to make a sale is right after you've made one.

That positive experience makes you believe that another one is on its way. Do something small today, or right now, to make yourself feel a little better. Keep chasing that feeling.

It doesn't always get better, and I'm not here to tell you that your life will be amazing. I'm only sharing my experiences and the small amount of insight I've gained.

That insight boils down to this: Do something genuinely good for yourself or someone else, and you'll absolutely feel better.