There were several stages in my life when I suffered from depression. Well, depression is a household term - as often we hear people say - “That is so depressing” when they hear sad stories or watch a tragic movie; or “I feel depressed today” when they encounter frustrating situations. But the depressions I went through were not as simple as the ones quoted.

Counting the times when I went through these stages,  I came up with three. First, when I was 14 years old. It was summer break then, and being so bored with nothing to do at home, things started to turn bleak and I lost my appetite and interest in almost everything.

My parents, worried I might end up being a bag of bones because I only nibbled on my food, sought medical help for me. I was diagnosed to have recurring anemia, which apparently caused my depression. I was given vitamins, mostly Iron and appetite stimulants which admittedly helped a lot. But my real cure came when school reopened that year. I began to be absorbed in my studies and I was back being my old cheerful self.

I thought I would never again go through that situation in future years. I was wrong. When I gave birth to my first born, I again felt depressed. That time, I knew it was post partum blues - because I have read in medical books that such was a natural state right after childbirth. Well, since I understood the cause, I got over it in no time. Besides, I became busy with caring for my first baby and my attention was diverted from brooding on my feelings to my new life as a mother.

In 1996, my brother passed away. He had a lingering kidney malfunction. It was a tragic blow to the family. He died on March 24 - a time when I was very busy with my teaching job because it was the end of the school  year and I had to meet deadlines for submission of grades, graduation rehearsals and performance evaluations. I cried over my brother’s death, but after the funeral, I had to face mountains of school work, and so I did not so much feel the loss.

Or so I thought.

A week after, I was done with my school duties and summer break officially began. That was when I started to feel the void, and the loss of my brother started to sink in. I could not get up in the morning without being literally dragged by my daughter or sons who would need me to cook meals for them. After doing chores absent-mindedly, I would sit at the veranda, staring at nothing. Then it dawned on me - no way would I go through this bout again. I figured - I needed to break away from mourning my brother, lest I would go deeper in emotional isolation.

So I decided to snap out. I enrolled in summer classes and took additional units in education. It was a hot and long summer, but I labored through my books and shot two birds with one stone. One, I gained more knowledge and academic credits. Two, I survived the loss of a sibling.

Having gone through several depressive conditions, I think I have now mustered a good understanding of this illness. I know other people suffer more serious levels of depression than the ones I suffered, but I believe, regardless of the level or intensity, there is only one person who can help a depressed person, and that is - himself.

I don’t profess to be a medical expert because I am not a doctor. But then, at times, one does not have to be a doctor to be able to diagnose and treat an ailment, more so if such ailment is coming from within the person. Of course, one also needs to have an understanding and knowledge of the source of his depression before he can address his ailment. And this is where medical or professional help is much useful.

I read in one medical guide, that depression is a state when a person feels like he is in a pit, and he hears voices of people from up there, but these people do not hear him. And much as he needs help to get out of the pit, he cannot, because not one of the persons whose voices he hears, can help him out. He may scream, shout, curse, kick or bang his head on the walls of the pit but no one can see or hear. Because he is there, all alone, and unless he gathers all his strength and determination to thrust himself out to escape  he can never be free. The people up there may throw him a rope or a ladder to assist him get out, (much like all the medications and professional assistance that he may be given) - but without his own strength and will to break out - he is doomed to stay in that dark pit.