I stood there for a bit, my mind in a fog, then deliberately picked up one of each shade and went to the check out. I still have those sweaters, by the way, and only one of them has ever been worn. Somehow they don't appeal to me any longer. Money was not a problem, cash or plastic opening new charge accounts, getting a loan, whatever I needed to do to achieve my goal was fair game. Inevitably, in 1990, I crashed.
Nobody can remain at high levels without expecting the depression that follows.
Sunk deep in depression, I was hospitalized immediately. Medication changes, rest and proper sleep and eating routines slowly brought me out of it, and I returned to work immediately after being released. The difference now was that I had the added stress of the credit card bills coming in every month. It was not over. Several times in the next couple of years I was back in hospital, each episode seeming worse than the last, and each giving me a sense of loss and hopelessness.