When I was twelve, someone finally ~ finally ~ put a name to the thing that had made my life such hell off and on for as long as I could remember. Depression.
Now, before I go any further, join me on my soapbox for a moment, would you? I have two very strongly held opinions about this diagnosis. First: Whoever named it "depression" did those of us who struggle with it one of the greatest possible dis-services. Better to have named it Fred than depression. Why? Because everyone gets depressed. Everyone gets blue. Even those of us who live with depression get depressed. It ain't the same thing, folks. If you have depression or know someone with it, you get this. If you don't, trust me and be grateful. Second: While I appreciate it becoming less stigmatized, doing so is a double-edged sword. More people are acknowledging that they have it; more people are deciding that they have it. Honestly, the proliferation of depression medication ads just piss me off. Yes, this is a chemical disease. It is also a coping-skill disease. That last part tends to get lost in the shuffle. So many people are willing to pop a zoloft or a wellbutrin but refuse to address the issues in their lives that are triggering the chemical imbalance ~ and then they don't understand why the meds aren't working. The ads don't mention the fact that therapy and lifestyle changes are important ~ hell, vital ~ to the success of dealing with depression. But popping the pill is easier than having to admit what is wrong and try to change it. So ~ yes, the disease is becoming less stigmatized. At the same time, it is becoming simplified. The first is good. The second is not.
There. Soapbox rant over. Luckily for me, I carry my soapbox with me everywhere I go should I need it. Now, it is safely stored back under my desk until next time.
Moving on to the point of this post ~ I think I am entering into another episode. I hate this. I hate feeling crazy. I hate feeling reactionary. I hate feeling overdramatic. I hate feeling unhealthy. None of those things are me. I'm a relatively sane, mostly laidback, only mildly dramatic, healthier than not human being. Except when I'm in an episode. At which point, all bets are off. Now, I could be wrong. Believe me, if I am, I will admit it! This is not something I am willing to turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy. However, one of the good things about having dealt with/lived with this for 24 years is I know the signs. Things have been overwhelming, taking on far greater levels of importance than they actually deserve. Things and people have become intimidating, and I'm so not easily intimidated. Things have stopped mattering, things that do really matter. Things that I know are unhealthy are becoming attractive so long as they will ease this feeling, even a little. My Gestalt Observer has kicked into overdrive thinking things such as "Wow, you know ~ that might be a little extreme here" or "You know, that's not a terribly sane/healthy/reasonable reaction" and, my personal favorite "Oh my God, why are you reacting this way?????"
Boredom has set in. Just trust me on this one that boredom ~ unshakable boredom ~ is a sign for me. I find myself wanting to email a total stranger I had an exchange with and rail at this person for being mean to me, even though there was nothing really mean about the exchange at all. Leaving the apartment seems impossible; staying in seems unbearable. Even finding the source of the stale dog pee smell in my bedroom ~ and this is the really, really embarrassing one to admit ~ isn't a priority.
My last episode was in January of 05. Since beginning work on those lifestyle/coping skill/ therapuetic changes I talked about earlier, I tend to be on a 12-18 month cycle. I'm right on schedule and didn't even realize it until I wrote that. Luckily, another good thing about knowing this disease in me the way I do is I also know the episodes end. If I can forestall it or abbreviate it, I'm looking at another week or two ~ now that I realize it's probably not just a funk. If it turns into a full-out episode, I'm looking at 6 to 8 weeks of not good stuff. Bottom line is ~ I know it will end. And that's worth knowing.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
8 comments:
Ok. You have just written the post I have had in my head for about a zillion years.
I too, have depression. The disservice of the name is almost insurmountable, as you say. You can't just shake it off. It's not the blues.
Mine is a horrible imbalance of seritonin and dopamine in my noggin. Or at least that's what 10 fucking years of struggling with anxiety attacks and non drug therapy finally told me. I wouldn't use the drugs. I refused to use the drugs. I figured I was weak if I did. I did every lifestyle change ordered to me, and still the anxiety attacks came. I was house bound and it looked like I'd be living on welfare for the rest of my life. THAT was unacceptable to me.
Finally, I went on the drugs. Saved my life. I am now as close to "normal" as I ever have been. Even my own mother says "It's nice to see you be who I knew you were." Turns out my family has had this going back to my Grandmother (they called it getting the screaming memes back in her day, apparently?) and probably even further.
Before the drugs, I couldn't leave my house. Now? I can fly to other countries for vacations. Vacations I get from work. Because now I CAN work.
I'll be on this medication for the rest of my life. I don't like that, but I can at least now enjoy life. Also, the lifestyle changes are still in effect. The drugs don't do EVERYTHING. I still have to fight for my balance.
I agree that too many people just grab for the medication immediately. I too get frustrated at the ads everywhere for the next miracle drug.
I very much understand your pain here. There's nothing worse than knowing what to expect (and that is NOT knowing what to expect) out of yourself during one of these episodes. I just hope things go as well as they can for you.
Something I left out of the post that I want to clarify ~ I have NO PROBLEM with antidepressants. TTG for them! They can, literally, be life savers. I do, however, have a problem with people who reach for them when they are not necessary or without using them in conjuction with behavioral changes &/or therapy. If it is truly clinical depression, simply medicating and pretending that's all a person needs to "get better" is not a good idea. Nor am I speaking about other drugs for other conditions. I've got no business taking a stand on that at all so I'm not. There. I'm not sure if anyone was going to or had questioned that. I just didn't want to leave it unsaid.
My mother is bi-polar and my sister suffers from depression...they have for many years. It is hereditary. I suffered from situational depression after both miscarriages that required medication and grief counseling for the better part of a year after each. I couldn't get out of the chair. I sat there, staring at the tv screen, even though it wasn't turned on. I know what that feels like. I knew what was happening the second time and felt so helpless that I couldn't stop it. I got help sooner that time, which was the only good thing about having been there before. I know how hard it is. I wish I didn't, and I wish you didn't.
There aren't words that will provide the magic comfort. But, I'm here should you need me.
Lordy lordy, everyone has experienced depression at least once in their life...if they haven't...they're definately not from America....I kid.
Anyways, I used to be on anti-depressants. I took them in the morning and boy were they a pain to remember, my sophomore year they changed me six different times, sometimes having me on three different things at once.
I was screwed up last year and the end of freshmen year. I was just...everywhere. Then again, my councilor told me I was manic depressive...I felt manic and sometimes felt depressed so...I guess so.
Anyways, so I took meds for an entire year. Then finaly, I went to theatre camp...and I was able to kick the drugs one morning. It felt great...
Now, I deal with it like any normal human but let me tell you...some days I just wish I had those drugs back.
well, these last 3 posts sure paint one hell of a picture: a day with me, fond memories of working in a adult store, and then depression...
as soon as easter is over you can buy me all the caramel lattes you want sweetie. still standing.
i love you.
Wow, I can sure identify with what you describe going on and being cyclic. It hit's close to home. I'm a February person. Same thing happens. I loose my mind, become someone entirly different, know it will end and try to make it through. I'll send positive energy your way, and see you soon :)
What to do if a 14 year old is going through the same things, but will not take the medicine? He has been diagnosed, but doesn't want to go to school or do anything. He's seen a doctor who said that he is depressed. Had the same sympthoms you listed. Above average student but is just giving up. Won't accept help. I know you are not a doctor, but I am asking from your personal experience with this, what can I do to help him?
Rose, for me talk therapy helped a LOT...much more so than the antidepressants. The ones I was perscribed made me feel worse (I stopped taking them early on), and I know that is a side effect of some of them. Don't wait. Find a counselor for him. The talk therapy worked by helping me identify it, understand it, and find ways to cope with it when it when an episode happens. I only ended up needing about 6 sessions...but it is different for everyone.
Pobble... I'm behind in my reading! arghhh! I hope you are feeling better, sweetie!
Post a Comment