In
consultation
with
my
therapist,
I
recently
upped
my
Lexapro
dosage.
There
is
no
trigger
I
can
point
to,
but
the
increase
in
familiar
feelings
of
hopelessness
was
there.
Usually
more
intense
in
the
morning,
then
dissipating
into
the
early
afternoon.
Not
immense
lows,
but
unlike
depressive
bouts
of
years
earlier,
I
have
a
better
understanding
of
my
body
and
mindset.
I
have
mental
health
tools.
We
made
some
medication
adjustments
and
figured
out
that
maybe
I
was
focusing
too
much
on
my
mortality
rather
than
my
purpose
moving
forward
in
my
60s. It
passed,
and
I’m
good,
but
there
are
lessons.
In
dealing
with
chronic
depression,
there
won’t
always
be
a
readily
identifiable
trigger
and
billboard
signals
to
the
people
around
us.
The
lows
won’t
always
be
the
drastic
lows
that
are
easy
to
spot.
In
2005,
it
wasn’t
good,
but
easier
for
family
and
friends
to
see
what
was
happening.
There
was
a
gun
—
statements
of
self-harm
and
known
drug
and
alcohol
problems.
An
episode
I
don’t
talk
about
much,
and
the
last
time
I
had
true
suicidal
ideation,
was
in
2010.
I
was
almost
three
years
sober
but
still
learning
to
adjust
to
dealing
with
intense
feelings
of
worthlessness
and
insecurity
without
the
aid
of
cocaine
and
booze.
There
were
intense
feelings
of
worthlessness
and
insecurity.
Despite
the
intense
feelings
of
worthlessness
and
insecurity,
I
discontinued
my
medication
(without
telling
my
doctor),
thinking
that
I
would
do
it
on
my
own.
My
depression
got
progressively
more
consuming
until
one
evening,
I
was
listening
to
the
radio
—
the
Texas
Rangers
baseball
team
had
declared
bankruptcy
—
and
my
older
brother,
Mark,
was
one
of
the
parties
bidding
to
purchase
them.
(He
didn’t
win.)
Suddenly, I
started
bawling
and
contemplating
scenarios
to
end
my
life.
First-world
privilege
problems,
right?
I
was
sober
with
a
nice
roof
over
my
head.
There
was
food
in
the
fridge.
Yet
somehow,
this
event
that
would
have
no
meaningful
impact
on
my
life
triggered
the
same
feelings
of
hopelessness
that
had
led
to
my
first
trip
to
a
psychiatric
facility.
It,
of
course,
wasn’t
about
the
Rangers
or
Mark.
It
was
my
journey
to
deal
with
the
same
feelings
that
had
plagued
me
since
my
early
teens.
The
journey
to
healing
a
little
boy
who
had
been
fat-shamed
at
home
and
school,
physically
assaulted
over
his
excess
weight,
and
saw
a
monster
every
time
he
looked
in
the
mirror.
There
would
be
those
moments,
even
sober,
until
I
healed
that
little
kid
and
told
him
none
of
it
was
his
fault.
Weirdly,
decades
later,
I’m
still
on
that
journey.
Triggers
often
come
from
where
you
least
expect
them.
Adjustments
are
OK.
If
you’re
a
law
student
or
lawyer
and
struggling
with
depression,
here
are
some
resources:
Directory
of
Lawyer
Assistance
Programs
988
Suicide
and
Crisis
Lifeline
Crisis
Text
Line: Text
HOME
to
741741
For
Nonlawyers:
NAMI
and
the
crisis
hotlines
above.
Brian
Cuban
is
an
attorney,
author,
and
advocate
for
mental
health
awareness
and
recovery.
He
has
spoken
at
law
firms,
conferences,
non-profit
events,
colleges,
and
universities
across
the
United
States
and
Canada.
He
also
writes
extensively
on
these
subjects.
His
books,
columns,
and
quotes
have
appeared
on
CNN.com,
Foxnews.com,
The
Huffington
Post,
The
New
York
Times,
and
online
and
print
newspapers
worldwide.
He
is
also
the
author
of
the
best-selling
book
The
Addicted
Lawyer,
Tales
of
The
Bar,
Booze
Blow
&
Redemption.
His
debut
novel,
The
Ambulance
Chaser,
was
released
as
the
#1-selling
debut
paperback
thriller.
His
follow-up
crime
thriller,
The
Body
Brokers
is
now
available
wherever
books
are
sold
and
at
www.briancuban.com.