Monday, May 2, 2011


I always thought that I'd had a happy childhood. Most of it was, but there was trauma too. Some of that was deeply buried and I didn't begin to get in touch with it until I became an adult. Such can often be the case.

I was frequently happy and oftentimes silly. Yet I came to later realize that much of this silliness was a cover-up for a deeper pain. I would often become moody. My moods would swing from high to low and back again. It would be many years before I discovered how dramatic that could become. Much pain would lie ahead for me.

I had a devastating depression when I was twenty-one. I became desperately suicidal. I had never experienced such pain in my life. Fortunately, I didn't do anything stupid, but I didn't seek help. I knew I couldn't handle the pain, but I thought it would be a sign of weakness to reach out for help. I ended up dropping out of graduate school and I thought that I was a failure.

Within a couple of months, I recovered. I went from a tremendous low to a tremendous high where I felt as if I was on top of the world. I returned to my girlfriend in New Hampshire and I began a wonderful new career as a field editor for an academic publisher. I thought everything in my life was fine. I had hope for myself again.

A year later, paranoia set in. I began to fear that I was a fraud and a failure even though I had become one of the top-performing representatives within my company. I was in a state of delusion, but it felt all too real to me.

Within months, I was back on top of the world again. I began to make fabulous plans for my future. I became married and I was quickly promoted. I was on the fast track to becoming an executive at the age of twenty-three. That was when another emotional disaster struck.

I had devastating depression and I became suicidal again. I couldn't function on my job. I'd awaken in the morning in a state of terror and I'd pull the sheets up over my head. I didn't want to get out of bed. I couldn't face another day of sheer panic.

My wife did what I couldn't do for myself. She found me a psychotherapist. That was the beginning of a journey toward sanity that wouldn't begin to fully manifest for another thirteen years.

I separated from my wife as I began to fully accept that I was a gay man. She eventually moved away. More depression followed.

Author Davis Aujourd'hui

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