The first post of January is a common time for posting a round-up of the previous year or resolutions for the coming one. And who am I to break with tradition? Especially as it was a good year for me last year.
However, it is also a common time for people to suffer from depression. Which is a topic that deserves more attention than word-counts or publishing resolutions. So, today will be about both.
In 2015, I published several books and progressed several more; and the books I published sold copies. And, more importantly, I got to spend the year with a wife who loves me. So, I can’t say every moment was bliss, or that I didn’t want to sell more books; but it was a good year, and so I started the month in a good place.
That hasn’t been true of every year though. Some years weren’t as great: the years when I was single, or didn’t have a job I loved, left me shaky.
And, because there is a toxic belief in Western culture that people – especially men – should just suck it up rather than reveal that they feel sad or helpless, I tried to hide it. I suspect I didn’t do as good a job as I thought; but I did a good enough job that no one called me on it.
Until someone did. Which was when I actually escaped. I didn’t go to a doctor, so I don’t know whether any of it was depression or not. But it wasn’t a pleasant experience, and it might not have lasted as long if I hadn’t thought I needed to pretend to be having a great time.
So, if you’re not sure you’re having a great year then it might help you to talk with someone. If you don’t want to tell your doctor or someone you know, then feel free to contact me or one of the organisations here