Most Of Us Are Sad

Author's Note: The content in this story may be triggering for individuals with mental health challenges. If you or someone you know is experiencing suicidal thoughts or a crisis, please reach out immediately to the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255 or text HOME to the Crisis Text Line at 741741. These services are free and confidential.

Hi, my name is Colin Cerniglia, and I have depression.

Many of you know this, many of you don’t. But I’m going to put all the cards on the table right now: The past several months have been some of the most difficult of my life. Today, my goal is to shed light on the recent depression battles I’ve been fighting.

I’ve wanted to write this column for a long time. But I’ve felt paralyzed to do most things beyond the necessities of life. However, I’m in a decent spot, because of the openness of a co-worker who has battled her own mental health challenges. That domino effect is the primary reason why I forced myself — yes, I had to force myself to begin writing this — to be open about my struggle with my mental health.

I want to be better. I want to help.

I think I can accomplish both by writing this.

So away we go.

I will drop this at the end of the column, too, but please reach out if you want to talk. If your mental health is in a manageable space, please consider some form of therapy. And if you are thinking the darkest of thoughts, please call 988, a confidential suicide and crises hotline.

Most Of Us Are Sad

I borrowed today’s headline from the Eagles’ 1972 song by the same name. Coincidentally, or not, the lead singer of the song, Randy Meisner, sadly passed away during my latest bout of depression.

I had listened to the song a lot before Meisner’s death. Music is my escape in life. I use it as a way to find meaning and motivation. I don’t listen to be sad; I wanted to know what Glenn Frey was thinking when he wrote the lyrics that Meisner sang.

Around the same time, I got a chance to read Deliver Me From Nowhere, a book that portrayed the making of Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska album. Among the many plot lines the book offered, one central theme emerged: Springsteen was clinically depressed during that period of his life. It was fascinating reading about how writing Nebraska helped Springsteen come out the other side a stronger person.

In another book, The Creative Act by Rick Rubin, the author talks about openness, meaning when you open yourself up, you often find exactly what you’re looking for. I didn’t immediately realize it, but those books, the Nebreska album, and Mesiner’s vocals were all guiding me. They were telling me that I wasn’t alone. They were telling me there was a way out.

They gave me hope.

My Depression

I didn’t just get diagnosed with depression. It’s only recently resurfaced to an unmanageable point for the first time in several years.

My first official diagnosis came in college. The death of a close friend, a breakup of a girlfriend, mounting responsibilities and expectations… it all built up and led to a major breakdown.

I know deep down that I have had anxious and depressive traits since at least elementary school. My parents and elementary guidance counselor did their best to help me, but it was a different time — there wasn’t as much help or knowledge available.

Then my high school years became an act. I was supposed to be a macho athlete, feelings be damned. And that’s how I lived until I couldn’t anymore.

I was lucky. My mom knew me and she knew I wasn’t healthy. Like Springsteen, I was also diagnosed with clinical depression. Mom pushed me in the direction of getting help. It probably saved my life.

College is the only time I’ve had suicidal thoughts. I did a lot of medicating with alcohol. I recently read about how artists — as a writer, I consider myself to be one — typically are some of the most vulnerable and sensitive demographics. That’s why the overdose rate in the artistic community is so high.

Listen, I wasn’t doing hard drugs. Never did. Never plan to. But who the hell knows where things were going without that first intervention? Maybe my drinking picks up more and I become an unemployable alcoholic who hates his life? I don’t know!

That’s the scary part about depression. About life. I didn’t see those alternate paths — good and bad — happening to me. I was so lost and hurt that it seemed impossible to even think about what was next. It was a lot of darkness and nothing more.

I felt a turnaround after several months of therapy and medication. But let me tell you, those initial therapy sessions were BRUTAL. I could barely make out coherent sentences. The crying and overwhelming feelings were too much. Eventually, I learned about myself, more than at any point in the past. I learned what I liked, what I didn’t, what I wanted, and what I didn’t.

But then I tried to move too fast. Again, I felt the pressures of “life” and I felt like I needed to be in a “certain place” to be considered “successful” and “happy.” I ended up in a toxic work environment that slowed my progress, although I didn’t know it at the time. Hindsight has allowed me to see how poor that environment was for me. Plus, I was enrolled back in school full-time, trying my best not to fall too far behind.

I was at another fork in the road when I, again, reached my breaking point. Using tools learned from my past therapy sessions, I was able to keep things in check. I decided to move on from the toxic work environment and sacrifice money for a lower position in the same industry. Then I hunted around for a second job to make ends meet while I finished school. Both of my new work environments, while not perfect, proved to be much more beneficial for my mental health.

So I think it’s of little surprise that after about a year of moving on, I met Christine. I don’t know how the universe works, but I don’t believe I would have been in the proper headspace to be in a real relationship if I hadn’t made the moves I did over that prior handful of years. Fortunately, I was in a good headspace, and now here we are ten years later, happily married, and with two wonderful daughters. A good stroke of luck, indeed.

One of our first dates included the infamous t-shirt picture.

I only had mini dips of depression after I began dating Christine. The most pronounced was after the death of my grandma “Nook.” I lived with Nook for a couple of years in college and we developed a strong bond. She had been sick with Alzheimer’s, so while it wasn’t surprising when she passed, it still deeply hurt. But I worked through that bout of depression and continued living a relatively normal life.

That “normality” continued through the unprecedented period of Covid and into 2023. Alas, things began to catch up. And I realized, albeit a bit too late, that I was struggling.

Not wanting to get as low as I was back in college, I began taking several steps to better my mental health. In doing so, I realized that I am in a completely different stage of life than I was in 2010. Different times, different responsibilities, and different expectations.

I needed to figure out how to manage all of that and be happy.

The Shitstorm of 2023

It’s purely coincidental to happen within the same calendar year, but 2023 has been one hell of a ride.

I started 2023 on paternity leave. Innocent enough. Yet it was on the heels of a health scare Christine had related to post-pregnancy complications. We spent most of the final week of 2022 in the hospital while the medical staff did their best to treat Christine. It was unexpected and difficult to navigate, with a newborn in the cramped room with us, and our oldest at home with my mom.

Once Christine’s health strengthened, we returned home with a positive outlook for what was ahead. All was relatively par for the course until the final day of February, when I was informed I was being laid off from my job. It was a shock, although not totally surprising, given we were a tech company and tech layoffs had been happening since mid-year 2022. My former employer had already done two rounds of layoffs up to that point, too. Still, you don’t wake up expecting to be let go from a job you like and a performing well in.

All of a sudden, I found myself in an ultra-tight and competitive job market. It was a painful reminder of how broken the job search process is. I spent countless hours and days on LinkedIn, applying on job boards, and utilizing my network. Minimal opportunities came about. It was very quiet and I was worried about what I was going to do.

So I began building my own consulting business. I built and hunted simultaneously. Then, right before Christine’s birthday in April, I tested positive for Covid. I was very sick plus I felt awful about not being able to celebrate Christine’s birthday. We had to cancel dinner plans at a restaurant with very hard-to-get reservations. And Stella had to miss the birthday party of one of her best friends.

Blah.

Eventually, I recovered from Covid, aced a final interview, and began working full-time again in May 2023. During my second or third week on the job, I found out that one of my best friends got hit by a car. He survived the accident but it was still a brutal setback. To this day, the recovery is ongoing. Finally, in early July, we had to go through our second nanny transition of 2023. This one was completely unexpected.

Suffice it to say that I did a lot of lot of working and stressing during the first half of 2023. I didn’t rest during paternity leave — those of you with kids know it’s impossible — and I didn’t rest during my two months of unemployment. The stress only built more when I began working again and other personal challenges arose.

It all added up to being too much.

Luckily, I found myself in the right place at the right time.

I mentioned earlier that a teammate of mine, Liz, was open about her battles with mental health. She was talking on a panel that I was listening to and I realized that I had an advocate right then and there. Liz was very gracious and more helpful than I can write about when I went to her seeking guidance.

Intuitively, I knew what to do. I’ve been through it before. But I was paralyzed by the anxiety and depression. I needed the push again, just like my mom once provided me. Liz did the same this time around.

Eventually, I began therapy again — which I cannot recommend enough for anybody at any time — and was prescribed to go back onto Lexapro for the first time in several years. Those two things, along with the support of my family and friends, plus re-introducing small things that make me happy on a regular basis — reading, writing, fitness, craft beer, etc. — have helped me get to a manageable place with my mental health. I can’t say I’m 100% better as of today, but I also wouldn’t have been able to write this if I wasn’t in at least a decent mental state.

I specifically wanted to share my experiences this year because, for everything that has gone wrong, I can point to a friend or a family member who has been going through a challenge of their own. It’s a stark reminder that everyone has daily challenges, whether or not they are vocal about them. And that’s been a helpful reminder for me. It’s kept me even-grounded and made my challenge feel more relatable. It’s also allowed me to be compassionate and offer help, which feels good, too.

I’m not going to lecture anyone here but please know that your challenges don’t put you on an island. There is always support out there. But you have to be open to finding it and being receptive to receiving it. On the flip side, there is a lot more we as humans can do to help our fellow people work through their challenges and thrive in life. Ask the hard questions. Check-in on your loved ones.

Life isn’t easy. But it is worth living.

My North Star

This all leads me to my final talking point. My “North Star".”

Simply put, it’s my kids.

Look, I have a lot of motivations in life. A lot of people I love. But those of us with kids know that love and responsibility hit an entirely different level.

So often in this journey, I’ve been centered by my two daughters. They have helped me during the toughest days because they don’t understand what’s happening. Their world is about play and love. They just want Dad. And I love that.

It’s also been useful to remember how they will perceive me as their dad. I want them to know that I’m a flawed, but hopefully decent, human being. I don’t want them to think I’m a superhero. I’m especially cognizant of that knowing the dynamic of dad-daughter relationships.

I want them to know that they are who I think of when I look in the mirror each day. I want them to grow up with the strength to tackle difficult situations. I want them to see their dad be happy with his work and make a positive contribution to society. I don’t want them to see a parent who is just working to survive.

Just like my parents wanted for me, I want my daughters to grow up with better opportunities. I want them to be happy. I want them to be respectful. And I want them to THRIVE in life. They both bring me, Christine, and countless others so much joy. They have radiant positive energy. I want them to be able to keep that and not get beaten down by life. I want them to learn tools at an early stage of life that can assist them through the inevitable challenges they’ll face.

Stella and Arya are my greatest motivators to be the best version of me every single day for the rest of my life. I couldn’t ask to do it for two better people 💜

The moment the three of us were together for the first time.

If you’ve made it this far, you’re likely facing a similar scenario or know someone who is. Please reach out if you want to talk. If your mental health is in a manageable space, please consider some form of therapy. And if you are thinking the darkest of thoughts, please call 988, a confidential suicide and crises hotline.

Mental health is a sickness. It is real. But it is not an absolute. It doesn’t mean you can’t prosper and live life.

I consider myself, when healthy, to be a highly functional human who has depression. But I only get to be that with the support of others. I can’t do it alone.

So I’m hopeful by sharing my story that others will share there’s too. Drop me a line in the comments or send me an email. Just know that you’re never alone and you have people who care about you.

Together, we can all live better and healthier lives.