When my mother was first diagnosed with cancer she swore me to secrecy. She said she didn’t want  people looking at her funny, or avoiding her because they didn’t know what to say. “You become the disease,” she said.

My mother’s insight was on the mark, not only for cancer, but depression, as well. At some point in my recovery (actually, discovery is a better word for it), I realized  I had identified with my illness. Not only did others see me as the person with depression, but I saw myself that way, to the point of forgetting what life was like before the illness or considering there could even be an “after” the illness.

I don’t remember the circumstances of that realization, but I do remember it was a catalyst for me to gain control of my thoughts, my attitudes and my decisions. Depression has a way of forcing you to surrender, but that moment of realization made me determined to tear up the white flag. I had to fight, because I was determined that I was not going to spend the rest of my life being that depressed person.

I was depressed. Now I’m not.

It took a lot of work, and faith, to get from one point to the other, which is one of the reasons I’ve hesitated in sharing the journey. I am happy to be where I am, and, on some level, have been afraid of being identified, once again, with the illness. But depression taught me, among other things, that fear is an obstacle to growth.