William Styron

When I experienced depression originally in June of 1985, the depression was very gradual; it didn't pounce on me in any immediate way. I was not an alcoholic but I found that alcohol was losing its magical effect and that I had revulsion for it. So, I stopped drinking. I think it may have been a withdrawal from alcohol that helped precipitate this depression. I thought that instead of suffering from depression I was suffering from alcohol withdrawal. The entire summer, I began to feel an encroaching anxiety and sense of dislocation, a sense of unhappiness, a mysterious feeling that all was not right in my world. I felt fragile. All of these new ominous experiences began to focus itself in an emotional turmoil that is almost indistinguishable from physical pain. Every day I would wake, after usually a very troubled sleep with a sense of despair. It got worse and resolved itself into this unfocused pain, which I found almost unbearable. I finally went to a psychiatrist, who in my case was of little help to me. I was put on an antidepressant that didn't work.

The pain grew and grew and I began to experience suicidal thoughts. I realized that life for me was at a desperate impasse. I thought of the garage as a place where I might sit in the car and inhale carbon monoxide. I'd look at the rafters in the attic and think of them as places where I might hang myself. I looked at sharp objects as being implements for my wrist. All of these weird and totally incoherent fears which I had never felt before just overcame me in a panic. This was a very serious time for me because I realized for the first time, that I might take my own life.

In my case, although not necessarily characteristic of others, going to the hospital saved me. One particular night in the fall, following months of this seizure of depression, suicide thoughts were overwhelming me. That night, I lost myself in a kind of psychosis. There was an absolute incoherence in my behavior and my thoughts. I began to get frantic; I was in a state of semi-delirium. My family, my wife Rose, one of my daughters who lives close by and her husband, gathered around to try to pacify me. I realized, as did my family that the only solution for me would be to enter a hospital, which I did the next day. It was the beginning of my recovery.