Cut the hysterics, turn off the gaslight

OK, Jamie Spears?

Journalism is too opaque and misunderstood. Chills gives a behind-the-scenes look at how dangerous investigative journalism gets made. 

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(Photo by Rich Fury/Getty Images)

Ladies: Raise your hand if a man has ever called you “crazy.” “Irrational”? “Hysterical”? 

Right.

When I was younger, I dealt with some pretty heavy depression. I went to therapy for it, and tried different medications until eventually one helped. I worked hard for years to get through it, and now, thankfully, I suffer much, much less than I used to.

But somewhere in the middle of the last couple of decades, the ugly, gray feeling of depression crept back in. The man I was dating at the time got real sick of my misery, real fast. I told him I was doing everything I could; I was continuing with therapy, adjusting my medication. And, as I healed, I was able to find the escape hatch on more days than not — to be productive and even something like happy.

Admittedly, I’m sure it was no fun to be around me on the bleak days. My boyfriend and I began having fights about my mental health — he had lots of ideas of how I should “fix” it.

Then he shocked the hell out of me.