I know I’ve mentioned my (not so) secret crush on David Foster Wallace before. So I was shocked by the news of his untimely death. In tribute, I’m going to (finally) read his epic (1104 page) novel Infinite Jest.
I think what is bothering me the most about this is the fact that he suffered from depression. His meds had started to cause side effects so he and his doctors were struggling to find some that worked. If you know anyone with depression you know how tricky this is. You can get to some pretty dark places before you find the right combination and dosage of medicines and then wait for it all to kick in. And even then you can still be on a roller coaster ride, you just hope that the highs and lows even out a bit. And while you are going through it all the last thing you want to do is "share", or leave the house, or get dressed or… anyway. I’ve been there. I’m lucky though because I haven’t been to the very darkest places but I’m pretty sure if I squinted really hard I could see them from where I was. And I have a husband who got himself some information and got me to the doctor. And I still go through the low times, friends won’t hear from me, or my neighbor will look at me and she’ll know. But I get through them. Some people aren’t as lucky. Take care David, I hope you’ve found the comfort you were looking for.