As hinted to in my first blog entry, I am currently in the midst of a severe depressive episode. This one has lasted longer than most - generally my moods are "rapid cycling", but I've been this way for over a week. Granted, the last two weeks have been shitty, but there's a difference between sadness and depression, and this is - without a doubt - depression. Capital D. Depression.
It's been a cloud over my head all morning - for me, mornings are better than evenings - and about an hour ago, maybe a little more, I felt it begin to envelop me, I felt my mood crashing again. It seems to happen out of nowhere. I was sitting on my couch with the TV on for background noise perusing Facebook when I suddenly had to close the computer, lay down, and tears came. I felt my stomach curling in on itself. I felt my limbs grow heavy.
And so I stayed like that, for about ten minutes. Knowing better and being in a place where I am sincerely putting in serious effort to manage my depression and get myself through this episode, I managed to drag myself up off of the couch and into the shower, where I first stood, and then became so exhausted I had to sit. I managed to shampoo my hair but not condition it. Whatever.
Then, knowing myself well, I thought I needed to get out of the house. I have plans to meet someone I don't know very well at 8:00 (it's nearly 6:00 now) in a town a bit away from here, so I thought I'd figure something out, do something with myself until then. Anything but sit at home and feel like shit.
I climbed into my car and put some music on that I hoped would cheer me up, but in a deep depression, often for me, "happier" music simply irritates me and makes me feel worse. So I found a compromise in Ingrid Michaelson's version of "Over the Rainbow". I was out of gas (to the point where I couldn't avoid going to fill up) so I went to the closest gas station and sat in my car while I filled my tank. Then I drove to the intersection of the highway and realized there was absolutely no way I could get myself to drive to a different part of my city right now - I had completely exhausted myself showering and getting gas.
So I came home, resolved to write about it. I questioned whether it was wise to write a blog entry while extremely depressed, and whined internally that I didn't want to, and then thought "Hell, I don't know if it's exactly the right time to write, or the worst time to write, but I'm going to do it."
Depression feels different each time for me. There is no one way to describe it; it is progressive, in some cases, such as mine. With age my own depression has worsened (and I will at some point be writing an entry about the differences between childhood, adolescent, and adult depression/mental illness and the progression of such, but not today). In my case, we have tried nearly every psychotropic medication under the sun, and nothing works for long. I have what is termed "Recurrent, treatment resistant depression". Major. I'm looking at ECT (Electro-convulsive Therapy, which is much different these days than what they portray in the old movies - much safer with less side effects, and I'm sure at some point I'll write about different treatments for Depression as well. Again, not today.)
Solitude is something that I personally covet. I need my alone time like I need air. But when I'm depressed, it can be extremely dangerous. And so I try and I try to put plans in place, and I do have some extraordinarily supportive people in my life, but unfortunately years and years of being in treatment has limited my ability to form long term supportive relationships and has limited my social life. Most of the people I have connected with are from treatment centers, or are treatment professionals themselves. This is not unusual; this is the case for many. Aaand again, I'm sure I will elaborate on that another time. There is so much ground to cover, Jesus Christ.
Depression, for me (as it is different for everyone) as of late feels needy. I think of suicide all of the time. I hesitate to share details in a blog, but I want to expose the truth of this illness, the darkness that the sufferer experiences; do not pity me, please, because it's neither here nor there; this is simply my reality right now.
Last week, during a particularly alone, depressive moment, I began to write a Will. Just in case. Just in case I do not survive myself.
In the worst of my depressions I couldn't function at all. I couldn't take the trash out. I had roaches, mice, and ants in my apartment. My father had to fly across the country to help me clean up. Of course, that was depression partnering with Bulimia. Which is a fucking mess.
Depression feels awful. A quote I shared on Facebook today from a book I highly recommend on the subject, "The Noonday Demon" by Andrew Soloman, states that:
“You are constantly told in depression that your judgment is compromised, but a part of depression is that it touches cognition. That you are having a breakdown does not mean that your life isn't a mess. If there are issues you have successfully skirted or avoided for years, they come cropping back up and stare you full in the face, and one aspect of depression is a deep knowledge that the comforting doctors who assure you that your judgment is bad are wrong. You are in touch with the real terribleness of your life. You can accept rationally that later, after the medication sets in, you will be better able to deal with the terribleness, but you will not be free of it. When you are depressed, the past and future are absorbed entirely by the present moment, as in the world of a three-year-old. You cannot remember a time when you felt better, at least not clearly; and you certainly cannot imagine a future time when you will feel better.”
Obviously, Soloman is more practiced at articulating himself than I, and I am thankful to have his work to draw upon. I suspect this will not be the last time I quote that book.
Depression is real. Don't get me started on people who don't believe in fucking medication or that the disorder is real - I will shriek from the rooftops that DEPRESSION IS A FUCKING THING if I have to. Not that it would do much good, because ignorance is a form of self protection, among other things.
Do I want to go and meet this girl at 8:00? No, I don't, because I'm depressed. Am I going to? Yes, because the only way to remedy the situation is to "Act Opposite", which is a "skill" often referenced in Dialectical Behavior Therapy, which I will also cover at some point.
Depression feels inescapable. Sometimes, it is. But it passes. I started this blog to be honest, but to provide some hope as well. I suffer every day right now, but I have had periods of my life that weren't as bad. And I am hoping that with the appropriate treatment (which I, personally, am BLESSED to have access to, thanks to suing my mental health insurance company - yes, I will cover that someday too - thanks for nothing, United Behavioral Health), which my doctor is saying is ECT, that I can have days where I feel less miserable, more content, and more alive.
Depression is a reality, but it is not the only reality.
That's the best I can do today. More later. Thanks for reading.
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