Depression is a widespread illness. It affects people of all ages, occupations, and personalities. However, for every statistic, there is a person battling depression. This is the story of one doctor's 30-year battle.

epression is something I inherited. My father had it, my mother has had it, one of my daughters has it, and two of my great-grandfathers committed suicide-one on each side of the family. It can be frightening to look at a family like that, but at least we tend to recognize it in our family.

Personally, I have had several bouts of depression. It is certainly a recurrent thing. The first was when I was 22 and still at university. It was awful and without apparent cause. I counseled with a local doctor, and after eight weeks it just went away.

It returned a couple of years later for about six weeks. This time was not as bad and, again, it just went away.

After my first baby was born, the depression returned. Because it was different from the first couple of times, I did not recognize what it was. It lasted about 13 or 14 months, until I received treatment for it. The treatment worked well, and I stayed on it for about three years.

I did not have depression after the birth of my next two children. However, when the kids were little, it returned. I have had depression (but not to such an extent) two or three times since then, lasting a few months at a time. It seems to be more or less gone the past few years.

I have always had an up-and-down sort of life. I have a few months of high energy, followed by a few months when everything becomes an effort. Even now I am like that to a certain extent. But when I have had depression, when I started going down, I just went down and down and down-and stayed down, feeling really dreadful, weepy, and angry.

You start thinking all the time about killing yourself, probably a half dozen times per day. You actually plan it. I have never attempted it, but I have gotten to the planning stage-how and where.

I knew I was being stupid. I knew I should not be doing it. I knew I had little kids depending on me, but I began to think they would be better off without me-that they would get on in life far better if I were not here.

Depression affects your whole being and how you feel about yourself. When I was depressed, I found church involvement extremely difficult. I ended up not going to church. Part of the reason was feeling unloved, unworthy, and weepy. Any time illness strikes, there are questions that come with the sickness. I think it is the same thing with depression. You are supposed to be joyful and happy in the Lord, and then this happens to you. It is not right-it should not be-but it happens. People who have it cannot think why it ought to happen to them.

People on the outside just look at it and think you must be a great sinner to have this illness. It seems to be something ingrained in us. Church people particularly, I have found, do not understand depression. They think that if you have given your heart to God you should not have these problems, and if you do, treatment with drugs is not the way to go-prayer and fasting, more or less, is the answer.

I was often misunderstood. I remember being at a foot-washing service and bursting into tears at the emotional feeling of the service. I get emotional when I sing hymns-I get tears in my eyes and am unable to sing. It is just ridiculous. When I was feeling depressed, it was even worse. On this particular occasion somebody said to me, "Are you feeling sorry for your sins?" It is embarrassing to be feeling like that anyway, and then to have someone say that to me instead of just looking the other way was dreadful.

People with depression need support. They need people to talk to them, to be nice to them, and to understand. But even the most kind, understanding people may get misunderstood by the one who is depressed. Be patient with them. Step back if they abuse you; do not abuse them back. Try to lighten their load if you can. Do not tell people to pull their socks up or to pray a bit harder.

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As told to Nathan Brown