Most will agree that I've worked a solid program. Over the years it wasn't unusual for people to ask why I seemed so happy all the time. My standard reply was that I'd been to hundreds of meetings and I've taken the 12-steps to the best of my ability. I wasn't smug about it but I did believe that I'd done the work and deserved the joy. Then, almost out of the blue, I found myself unable to get out of bed, overwhelmed by recurring thoughts of suicide and sudden crying tangents for reasons I couldn't specify. Every morning when I opened my eyes, my first thought was, Not Again! I didn't want to wake up. I had no earthly reason to wake up. This went on for weeks and I thought it would never end.
One day, I stumbled upon a Dick Cavett column wherein he characterized his bouts with depression as akin to having access to a magic wand that would cure his affliction but finding it too much trouble to pick up. That, for me, said it all.