The Depression That Led to My Rock Bottom
Timothy H Moylan is an Author, Speaker, and Recovery Advocate whose memoir, Rock Bottom Has a Basement: From the Bottle to Borrowed Time, shares his journey through addiction, near-death, recovery, and redemption. He uses his story to give hope to those who believe they've gone too far to come back.
Finding out I had depression at 31 came as a complete shock. I had never considered that I might have a mental health disorder, and I knew very little about depression. I was single. I had a good job. I drank a lot, and almost every day, I found someone to drink with, even people I barely knew. My life revolved around alcohol, and I assumed that was how everybody lived.
Looking back at college, when I was 21 and 22, I can see how much drinking already controlled my life. I would meet friends at the campus library and pretend to study. Really, I was just passing time until the next party.
For me, depression was hiding behind the alcohol. I never gave myself much sober time to recognize what I was feeling. I was either intoxicated or hungover, waiting just long enough to start drinking all over again. At the time, I didn’t recognize it as a cycle. I thought it was simply my life.
Another excuse
When I was diagnosed with depression, I went in the opposite direction from getting the help I needed. I used the diagnosis as a crutch. In my mind, it became another excuse to drink and, before long, an excuse for almost everything.
If I overslept and was late for work, I would tell my boss, “I’ve been under a lot of stress since being diagnosed with depression, and that’s why I overslept.” My depression was real, but I used it to avoid looking honestly at my drinking and taking responsibility for my actions.
Taking responsibility for my actions meant admitting that I needed to cut back or stop drinking altogether. Doctors prescribed antidepressants, and I would read the warning that I wasn’t supposed to drink while taking them. My response was simple: Well, forget that. There was no way I was giving up the one thing I believed made me happy. Absolutely not. I would not quit.
Looking back now, I can see that I gave my depression a back seat to my alcoholism. At the time, that was easier than facing either one. When people reached out to help, I avoided their calls and conversations. Sometimes, I literally ran from them. I didn’t want to face what was happening with my mental health, and I had no intention of working on it anytime soon.
Persistent depressive disorder
In 2007, I was diagnosed with what is now called persistent depressive disorder, a long-lasting form of depression. Symptoms can include low self-esteem, poor concentration, low energy, and hopelessness. When those feelings follow you for years, it can become difficult to separate the depression from your own identity. You begin to wonder whether this is simply who you are and how life is always going to feel.
For me, accepting the diagnosis was only part of the struggle. The harder part was accepting that I needed to keep treating it. I would take my prescribed medication for a period of time, then abruptly stop and return to binge drinking. I was inconsistent with the very thing that was supposed to help me, while continuing to turn to alcohol for relief.
Looking back, I can see how often I used my diagnosis as an explanation for my behavior without taking the steps needed to change it. If I overslept for work or failed to follow through on a responsibility, I could point to my depression. My struggles were real, but I also used them to avoid looking honestly at my drinking. Admitting that alcohol was part of the problem would mean confronting something I was not ready to give up.
When I saw the warnings about drinking while taking antidepressants, my reaction was resistance. I did not want to stop drinking. At the time, I believed alcohol was the one thing that made me happy. I could not see how much that belief was shaping my decisions or how much it was costing me.
I tried to smother my depression with alcohol. Drinking offered an escape from what I was feeling, but whatever I was trying to avoid was still there when the alcohol wore off. Then I had to face the consequences of my drinking as well. The more I ignored my depression, the harder it became to imagine a different way of living.
There were people who reached out, and I avoided them. Accepting their help would have required honesty. It would have meant admitting that the way I was handling things was not working. So I kept my distance and continued doing what felt familiar, even as it made my life more difficult.
That is a painful part of my story to acknowledge. I had a condition that deserved care, and I was not consistent in receiving that care. At the same time, I was struggling with an addiction that influenced how I understood my depression and what I was willing to do about it. I cannot reduce those years to one diagnosis or one bad decision. But I can recognize the pattern now: I was hurting, I was drinking to escape, and I was resisting the help being offered.
Taking responsibility has meant learning to look at that pattern without using it as another reason to condemn myself. I can acknowledge the harm caused by my choices and still recognize that I needed help. Being ashamed of myself never gave me a workable plan for getting better. Being honest gave me somewhere to begin.
I share this because someone else may recognize their own thinking in mine. Perhaps you have started to believe that feeling depressed is simply part of your personality. Perhaps you have stopped treatment, pulled away from people who care about you, or begun relying on alcohol to get through the day. I know how convincing those choices can feel when you are the person making them.
My experience does not mean everyone’s depression or recovery will look like mine. What I hope it shows is how easily years can pass while we keep telling ourselves we will deal with the problem later. For a long time, I did exactly that.
There is always hope. You do not have to have every answer before reaching out. Sometimes the most honest place to start is with a simple admission: “I am struggling, and I need help.” Those words can be difficult to say, but they open the door to a conversation that silence never can.
Read more from Timothy Moylan
Timothy Moylan, Author, Speaker & Recovery Advocate
Timothy H. Moylan is an author, speaker, entrepreneur, and recovery advocate whose life was transformed by addiction, a near-death experience, and the second chance that followed. His memoir, Rock Bottom Has a Basement: From the Bottle to Borrowed Time, tells the raw story of his journey from alcoholism to recovery, faith, family, and purpose. Today, Timothy uses his experiences to remind others that no matter how far down life takes you, there is still a way forward. He lives in Montana with his wife and two daughters, where he also runs a small business.
