Navigating the Dark Waters of Depression

mitzi.flyte
4 min readSep 7, 2023
Photo by Stormseeker on Unsplash

I recognized I needed help.

Before Medicare would cover psychologist visits, I had to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. He diagnosed me as having PTSD (from childhood issues) and Clinical Depression. I went weekly to the psychologist without the results I thought I needed. I was still depressed and had issues with my life as it had evolved while I aged.

My primary care physician put me on Zoloft and gradually increased it to 100 mg daily saying it was not “that high” of a dose.

However, I still had issues but lately I’ve discovered other ways to lift myself out of the dark place of Clinical Depression.

I began my battle with Depression at sixteen — as an overweight teen with a racist father and a teen whose hero was President Kennedy. November 22, 1963 sent me into a downward spiral. I decided the world was no longer safe and I hated my life, including my father who had said for months that Kennedy needed to be shot.

The feeling continued until one Sunday evening in February 1964, while watching Ed Sullivan, I found myself, smiling, laughing and bouncing to the music I was hearing. I’d fallen in love — with four lads from Liverpool. Over the coming years, the songs of the Beatles (together and as solo artists) became the theme of my life and still are sixty years later. At 76, I still turn on one of their songs, from the group’s “Rocky Racoon” or George’s “Here Comes the Sun” to literally brighten my day or listen to any of the other 200+ Lennon/McCartney/Harrison/Starr songs.

From sixteen onward, Depression continued to hang on me like a dark cloak sticking to my shoulders. I became an RN, even though I wanted to be a writer. I was overweight, passing two hundred pounds, and married a closeted gay man who bore a striking resemblance to Paul McCartney (go figure). My Depression and feeling of worthlessness just grew.

I decided to do something for myself; I returned to writing. I would get up at 5 AM and write until I had to get ready for my job. I wrote at night, after my daughter was in bed. I wrote on the weekends, at least those…

--

--

mitzi.flyte

A 70+ year old retired RN who’s following her 60 year old dream of being a writer, one interested in everything unusual. www.facebook.com/MitziFlyteAuthor