David McElroy

Katherine came to see me as soon as I got to dinner Monday night. She had told me bits and pieces in the past about an on-again, off-again relationship she’s had with a man, but I had never expressed an opinion about it — because she had never asked.

Tonight, she wanted advice.

Rick had seemed to be the man of her dreams. He was good looking, charming, attentive — and he seemed to be on his way to being successful. At first, their relationship had been great. They had started talking about a future together and it seemed as though her dreams were coming true. Then Rick suddenly backed off.

She didn’t know why. He didn’t break up with her. Not exactly. He just kept her at arm’s length and seemed more closed. He eventually pulled away more and more, going days without talking with her and making excuses not to see her. She felt that she was being discarded, very slowly.

But when another guy started pursuing her — and Katherine talked to Rick about breaking up — Rick professed love and pursued her again.

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I was having dinner Saturday night with a woman I don’t know very well when a wave of despair hit me.

It was out of the blue. I had no idea where it came from. All I knew is that it felt like a sudden blast of pure despair — about myself, about the world, about the future, about being loved. About everything. It felt as though someone had flipped a switch inside me.

Suddenly, hope was gone. In the dark emptiness where it had been, there was a dark monster which I call depression.

Nothing outward changed. I was still smiling and pleasant with my dinner companion. She had no idea anything was going on. But after I dropped her off later in the evening, I drove home in silence and surrounded by a darkness which felt heavy and oppressive.

Why does hope disappear?

Just as Jesus cried when he felt abandoned on the cross, I feel like crying out at such times, “Why have you forsaken me?”

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