[DrCrypt]

I am the author. There is no undercurrent of domestic violence, glossed over or otherwise, in the article.

My father had a psychotic episode once, due to a 1-in-a-million reaction he had to a misprescribed medication. My memory of this incident opens "My Father The Werewolf." During that episode, he was utterly terrified, and not in control of himself; in fact, he didn't even know who he was, or who we were. He gets a pass for it, as surely as he would get a pass if he had a stroke while driving, and consequently killed someone with his car.

Other than that one instance, my father never raised his hand to me, and I never once saw him so much as raise his voice to my mother. I even called my mom upon reading your comment and asked her if he ever touched her: she was offended by the notion.

My father was many things, not all of them good, but he was absolutely not a domestic abuser. He was the gentlest man I've ever known.

[RcouF1uZ4gsC]

Thank you for your comment and clarification. I am sorry for the false accusation and for offending you and your mother. Forgive me for adding to the pain of your memory.

[DrCrypt]

No apologies necessary! I understand that the opening of the essay has some powerful imagery that might be triggering to people with first-hand knowledge of domestic abuse. I just wanted to make sure to set the record straight, that my Dad was the victim there every bit as much as we were.

[wf]

Hijacking this to say-- this was beautiful, such an intense and satisfying introspection.

Although, the hopelessness in this: "As for depression, it’s the chasm that exists between. You build your bridge, don’t look down, and pray it never swallows you, because if it does, you’ll fall forever in that bottomless gulf, and die without ever landing."

I know you don't believe it's impossible to climb out of depression... so I guess I wish there had been something at least a little hopeful to round that out.

[DrCrypt]

Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm glad you found my Dad's story moving.

Like a lot of things with mental illness, I think the truth about whether depression is beatable or not is more complicated than many people's narratives let it be. It's proven that depression is cased by a combination of environmental and chemical factors, but who can say where the one begins, and the other ends?

When I was growing up, my parents were really worried about me inheriting my Dad's disease. Then, once I hit my early 20s, and started doing a bunch of things that would have been impossible for my Dad--traveling, moving abroad, earning a living as a writer, having lots of friends and girlfriends, being generally extroverted and having a good career--they started referring to me as having "dodged my Dad's genetic bullet."

But I live every day with depression. I suffer from it enough to have a regular prescription of Zoloft, and have filled out more than a handful of single-digit scoring depression screening tests over the years. There have been entire months where I have felt utterly hopeless, looking in the mirror and hating what I see.How much did I dodge a genetic bullet here? My depression is very real to me, and very hard for me to fight at times. At the same time, it's macho bullshit to say that I am "tougher" than my Dad, just because depression hasn't ruined my life. I think it's probably fairer to say that we're both right, and I'm not as depressed as my Dad, but I've also--with him as an example--set up much better habits for myself.

Treating depression isn't zero sum. You can't beat depression just by taking pills, but nor can you beat it just by riding bikes, doing yoga, or having a balanced life. You have to try everything, and maybe in trying everything, you'll find what works for you. So I think the most hope I can give on this question is this: if your depression is beatable, you can beat it. But was my Dad's depression beatable? I don't think so.

[Fordrus]

This is incredibly beautiful. I don't like to think of things as unbeatable, but I prefer to think of them as quests that the hero can't be expected to complete presently. In video games it's not at all uncommon to encounter obstacles early in the game that require items or abilities from later in the game to overcome - if later in the game is 75 years from now, there's a lot of time you have to play without getting at whatever is behind that special-item-only breakable wall.

One of my semi-secrets is that my family's struggles with Depression led me to study Neuroscience in college after almost completing a degree in German Literature. I am literally the only one of 5 siblings and my mother not to be on depression medication for at least some period of my life - I like to joke that I vampire-drained the happiness out of them and caught ADHD in doing so. I don't share that joke with them. My father is not the sort of person who would admit to depression ever, and I therefore don't know his feelings on the subject.

In other words, I quit my other program to search for the silver bullet. I knew from the start that the silver bullet is as great a fantasy as the werewolf itself, but I mourn so much for those who experience little to no improvement from our current medicines - these are the weapons I would arm people with as they fight their inner demons, no guarantee of success, but no small boon in their battle, either! Yet some people's demons clearly experience as much effect from my offered armaments as they would from a giant tickling feather - and it is to their especial detriment, because others, even doctors, seldom have understanding of their particular demon's resistance to their usual solid steel.

Someday, that holy mystery your dad recited about the brain will be as much as thing of the past as geocentrism, or so I tell myself, and so I hope, but for now, all I can do is keep fighting, I hope you're able to continue your fight with at least moderate success, as well. Of note, in my judgment, which I know is not worth much - what a laugh after all, a stranger's judgment on the internet - it seems to me that despite everything, you are doing a bang up job fighting your battle, and I hope it continues to go so well, with as few lost months and hopeless weeks or years as possible, and also, it seems to me that your Dad must have done a reasonably good job fighting his battles, as well, and I hope I am neither offensive nor cruel in saying so. It's just, it's always so difficult to judge someone, your mention about Bruce's friend who murdered his parents is quite excellent, because that question troubles and comforts many minds: Not only do I wish I were so much more, but what exactly would I be if I were so much less than I am? A murderer or serial killers? A bomber? An abusive spouse and parent? With great faith that we're not living up to our potential, staring down in the opposite direction of our potential can be harrowing but in its way, darkly comforting, even if its a sort of stupid comfort (at least, in my head and heart, I can't really claim it as a resounding accolade that "At least I wasn't a school shooter!" - yet sometimes, I just have to sit back and say it in my mind, and be thankful that I haven't gone to that extreme. It seems to me that your werewolf did a reasonable job of not eating you or your mom, even if he still wounded you with his claws over the course of his life, and I guess I wanted to offer his memory that praise).

Forgive my rambling diatribe, still lots of reflection to do on your piece, I hope you have a wonderful day. :)