I suffer from chronic chemical depression. Itâs not caused by a situation or my past, or my present. It is caused by a lack of chemicals in my brain. And Iâm not going to be mad at myself over it anymore. (Ok, I am, but Iâm going for strong here, so go with me.) Itâs like hating myself for not having gills. No gills is normal for me. It means itâs easier to drown, but thatâs the breaks.
 I had, by all accounts, a prefect childhood. My parents are amazing, I went to good schools, I had great friends who Iâm still friends with today. I had enough to eat and was allowed to do the things I liked and was pretty good at a lot of things. But I have never been any good at coping. Any little thing can completely derail my focus, my nerve, and my self-esteem. Right now, at the job I love, I have posted a button that says âDonât Panicâ and a little black and white picture with the words âIf things go wrong, donât go with themâ. And I need these reminders. They donât keep me from running to the bathroom to weep quietly in a stall ALL the time, but they do some of the time, and thatâs enough.
 A couple of years ago, I slipped into a DEEP depression. I had to give away my cat and it just triggered all sorts of awful. My husband brought me food and made me eat some of it, but he gave up getting me out of bed. I was staying. This was my new home.
 But my Dad called, and every day, I had a new, little task.
 Day one: Get out of bed. Shower. Put on clean clothes. Sit in the living room. I know, it sounds ridiculous, but it took me 2 hours to get into the living room, clean and dressed. And it was HARD. And all the while, berating myself that I had no reason to be THIS sad, my cat had a new home, he was happier, everything was ok. No go.
 Day two: Get out of bed. Shower. Put on clean clothes. Make yourself breakfast. Go out onto the porch. Hard. As. Fuck. BUT⊠the depression had ebbed just the tiniest bit since yesterday. There were only 999 knives slicing at me instead of 1,000. It still hurt like hell, and I was still pretty useless, but⊠it was better. Just a little.
 Day 3: Get out of bed. Shower. Put on clean clothes. Make and eat breakfast. Go to the park and people watch. (me: I donât WANT to go into public. I donât WANT to see happy people. Dad: I know, but go anyway.) The sun helped. Getting out of my own space helped. Now there were 997 knives.
 Day 4: Get out of bed. Shower. Put on clean clothes. Make and eat breakfast. Go to the grocery store. (me: I donât think I can make it thru the grocery shopping. Dad: Make a short list, and stick to it. If you canât get everything on it, you can go back tomorrow. But I think you can get everything on it.) Going to the grocery store is a pain in the ass. So I donât want to go twice this week. Ok, I can suck it up and do this. I buy the groceries. 996 knives in the store. 990 knives when I get home with the shopping.
 And so on. I called my dad, he gave me tiny new tasks to do, and I did them. I still spent a lot of time crying, and sitting staring into space, but less time was spent on that each day. And eventually⊠well, I was mostly ok. Of course I was hit with another bout later. And another and another. And I donât always have time now to go quite that incremental (though if it gets that bad, thereâs not a lot of other options).
 So, if you have someone in your life, even someone who you donât want to impose on, who you think will really hate doing this for you, but you think is responsible enough to do it- ask. Check in with them weekly. Tell them that if they donât hear from you on the call-in day, you need them to call you.
 Alcoholics and drug addicts have sponsors. Athletes have coaches. Artists have mentors. Pick a sponsor/coach/mentor. If it doesnât work out in the future, get a new one. But get yourself that lifeline. Because we deserve to get what we need. We deserve a life of happiness. You have a handicap, but you donât need to let it define you or consume you.
 If you feel you have NO ONE or would prefer a little more anonymity in your process, OR you would like to reach out and help someone by e-mailing them once a week, or both, e-mail me at [email protected]