I knew when a depression attack was coming, as the bubbles burst in my brain, and the dark fog started to fill my head. For the next days and weeks I had to fight the battle of not wanting to hurt those who loved me, with the voice in my head urging me to end it all by hurting myself.

I thank God for the medication and support of those who cared for me.

The image that stimulated my postcard was the memory of sitting in my 4WD outside my daughter’s place, waiting for her and my wife to return from a shopping expedition. I shouldn’t have been there. I should have stayed at work where people who knew and cared could and would have watched over me. I could see the roof beam in the garage, I knew the towing strop was in the back of the vehicle and I knew there was a way out of this crushing depression. What stopped me was the fact I knew they would see me, when they came up the drive.

Depression. Chronic depression and stress was the diagnosis of my doctor. It was partly my fault, partly outside forces, and lastly, that’s how my brain is connected. Let’s deal with the middle one first.

I worked in a job where my role was always at risk from other peoples expectations, both positive and negative. As a wise old man once said to me, “you can do nothing about peoples attitudes to you, you can do everything about your attitude to them.” True, but I didn’t anticipate the bulldozer that roared out of left field driven by a trusted colleague and demolished me. But that’s the way some people operate.

What was my fault was the way I had failed to look after my own health, physical, mental and spiritual. I was engaged in that process for others but neglected my own health. I suspected something was wrong and booked my self into a programme to work through what was happening to me. It was, in hindsight, too little too late because the bulldozer was already racing towards me.

The third thing I now understand, is this is how my brain is connected. Yes, there are external forces, both personal and corporate, but a major factor is my chemical composition. I suffer from depression. I wish I could recite a mantra like the AA do, “Hi my name is Graeme and I suffer from depression.” That understanding, that this is part of me, means I accepted the need of medical help, thank God for the pills!

I recovered, I’m different but the same. I’m wiser and I’m grateful. Grateful for a wise Doctor who both prescribed and advised, for a friend who rang or visited me everyday for almost a year, grateful for family and friends who loved me and cared, for John Kirwin who made depression acceptable, for a wife who stuck with me despite my illness.