My depression, it’s history, and my extremely long winded way of trying to help anyone who might need it by typing out my own reasoning so my own eyes can read it.
Thinking back on it now, I am pretty sure I had depression as far back as high school and maybe even middle school to an extent. We were always moving. I never was able to keep friends. I was always the weird one in groups. I was ok with that I think. But I remember how messy my room always stayed because even thinking of cleaning it caused me to shut down. Teenage angst it was called at the time. Just being a teenager. Those mood swings are just hormones. I did have quite a bit of hormone trouble, thanks to PCOS. When you have your period at the age of 17 that lasted 6 full months nonstop, your hormones will jerk you around. But that is a story for a different time.
I met my husband my senior year of high school. It was one of those “BUT I LOVE HIM” kind of things. I didn’t know what I was doing. I never had a boyfriend and now there is this guy 10 years my senior that wants me? He asked my fathers permission for my hand in marriage after only 3 months of knowing me. Dad said “yes, but only if you wait a year before marrying.”
My father was killed just 2 months later. I think maybe had that not happened, I might have eventually emerged from my depression maybe? I don’t know for sure. But that one single tragic happening basically cemented me into a way of life. I am still with the man that asked my father for my hand. And it isn’t a lie to say that the only reason that my husband and I lasted those next few years is because he knew Dad. He talked with him. Dad approved of him. I was clinging to him. And it was so very not easy those first 5 or so years, trust me. But again, a story for a different time.
7 years ago today, I took my first real steps in managing my depression. I had gotten to the point that I could physically and mentally tell that if something didn’t change, something was going to go bad. So I made an appointment with a regular clinic doctor. And I got on my first antidepressant.
And today I sit here, literal tears streaming down my face as I write this. Because crying comes so easy. As does the self-doubt. The self-depreciation. The self-hatred. And the outward hatred in general. Because the depression is still just as real as it was 7 years ago.
In the ensuing 7 years, my depression has ebbed and flowed. I have been on a few antidepressants as I worked my way through them trying to find what worked and what didn’t. Wellbutrin did the best. Prozac almost destroyed me. I still don’t remember whole chunks of time that I was on Prozac. My memory became mush. Not only did I stop remembering what I was doing minute to minute, what I ate for breakfast that day, or who I saw the day before. I also started losing childhood memories. Things I have always known were now gone. Things I always prided myself in knowing how to do? Disappeared. I have tried therapy, both the in person kind once I got insurance and the BetterHelp.com option. The in person kind helped, as I could spend an hour ranting about anything I wanted to for a full hour to a person that didn’t know anyone or anything in my life and they sat there and took it. There was a freedom in that release. Then it stopped because I lost my job due to downsizing. Again.
Today, my depression is almost at the same level as it was 7 years ago, when it had almost gotten to be too much. And it isn’t as easy to hide as it was 7 years ago or even 20+ years ago. Hell, 7 years ago I would never have thought of sitting down and writing all this out. Yet here I am, hiding tears away from my husband as I write about a subject that isn’t unique to me but I am feeling acutely.
So why am I writing this long ass diatribe on a platform I have no friends on today?
Because 7 years ago today, I was just starting on the work needed to get better. And I am still working on that. Except now, I am much more vocal about it. I tell people I’m depressed without hesitation. Some understand. They get a look in their eyes that is half empathy and half.. something else. They know it. Because they feel it. Then others... well, they never experienced it. They look at me like I grew a second head sometimes. How dare I say something like that? No, I’m just sad, they would say. Get some sleep, you’ll feel better. What do you have to be depressed about? These words continue in 2019, but happen less so I think. And that is good.
I also write this because maybe.. just maybe.. someone will read it. And they will understand. Or maybe someone who is struggling will read it and realize they are not alone. That someone out there is also struggling. And that somehow makes them feel better in some sadistic but totally necessary way.
Having depression doesn’t make you a bad person. Having depression doesn’t make you worthless. Yes I know the voices are telling you differently. I know, because my voice won’t fucking shut up. ‘You’re house is a disaster because you are a shit person. You should be embarrassed and ashamed to live like you do. No wonder you don’t have any friends, you can’t invite them over. Why don’t you get up and clean something you filthy slob. Of course you aren’t good at your job, you can barely keep yourself together. What makes you think you can perform at work at a pace that isn’t dumb? Damn, are you always eating? How fat can you possibly get?”
My voice inside my head exaggerates my insecurities. It amplifies my fears. It gives strength to everything that is wrong with me.
And trust me.. all of those things up there were thoughts I had today. TODAY.
If you find yourself having these thoughts, you aren’t lost. Find some time in between bouts of self-hate and depreciation to come up with a plan.
And that plan all revolves around small steps. Physical examples of effort to combat the emotional thoughts brought on by depression.
House is a giant disaster area and the mere thought of all the cleaning that would need to be done just to get it to a level most people would consider “liveable” and leaves you exhausted just to think about? Pick one thing and just clean it. Don’t pressure yourself to have a whole room clean by the end of the day or it’s useless. Clean the dishes. Too many dishes? Clean a plate. Then another if you feel up to it. Maybe a bowl. Or switch focus. Dust your TV. Polish a mirror. Straighten pillows on the couch. Take out the trash. Whatever you can mentally and physically handle, no matter how small, do it. That one step will help quieten that voice. Because you can look at that one small thing and say “See? It’s cleaner. I know I can do it. Just give me time.”
Feel like you don’t have friends? Remember that you don’t have to invite people over to your house to be friends. You can be friends with people you have never even met on the internet. Through my love of writing, I have met some of the best people I have ever known and I have never met some of them. Not going to lie, it might be daunting to get started on that. Where does one begin to even try to find a foothold in this gargantuan place called the internet? Pick an interest that you love or want to know more about and Google it. Find a message board to participate in. Find a chat room with like minded people to talk to. Like games? Discord is an up and coming, quickly growing platform where people have whole servers based on players and games. Like books? Google “find friends who like books”. Feeling adventurous and filled with courage? There is actually a Bumble for Friends. Seriously.
Feeling like you are worthless at your job? Good news is, there are metrics for that. Find an area that you can tell you need improvement in and ask your supervisor for training. Maybe your company offers its own sort of training program that you can sign up for without your supervisor, if that is too scary. Find one thing you want to improve, one small thing. And find the info.
Feeling too fat to care? Or generally just hate yourself? One small thing.. find 1 thing that you like about yourself. One thing. Do you like the way your eyes are shaped, how they reflect your smile when someone manages to make you laugh? Do you like the particular way a color of lipstick looks on your lips? Do you like a particular pair of pants that make your butt just look damn good? It doesn’t have to be big and it doesn’t have to be life changing. But you are not just your fat. You are not just your stringy hair. You are not just your pale skin or flat feet. You are not just those things that you fixate on.
Are any of these one small things going to magically make your depression disappear? No, of course not. You may have stretches of time that you are sure that you are actually going backwards instead of making progress despite doing all the small things you can. And that’s ok. But those small things add up. Eventually, that penny becomes a nickel.
Remember about 3 years ago when you started reading this extremely long post, I told you that I feel like I am almost at the same level I was 7 years ago when I started trying to get myself worked on? I wasn’t lying or exaggerating. A bus could hit me right now and I might actually appreciate the relief. I have bitten my nails down to the quick over and over till they just about bled because I like the way the pain feels. My own form of self harm.
I keep trying despite it.
You can do this. You can keep trying, despite it all. Don’t ignore the voice as that is self-delusion. But you can certainly scoff at it in disdain in between bouts of anxiety and times of stress.
If you haven’t tried medicine, consider it. If you haven’t tried therapy, I highly recommend it. If you haven’t tried reaching out to a friend, swallow your fear. If you haven’t written out an extremely long post on a forum that you have no followers or friends on and you barely use, try it.
Because I tell you, my eyes have dried up. And I feel oddly... stronger. And extremely nervous that anyone is ever going to read this at all. But let’s not dwell on that.
I don’t know you but I believe in you. Actually, I might know you. But I still believe in you. I want to help. I need help.
Maybe this has helped someone.
Now to go take that bath I have been screaming at myself about.
