I has a sad.
Posted: July 27th, 2010 | Author: Katey | Filed under: depression, katey | 3 Comments »When Abbi and I first discussed buying a web domain and writing regularly in a blog, I already knew that I would find it to be a helpful exploration of an issue that has been ongoing in my life to date.
There are many blogs about depression, many websites about mental illness, many people who are sad. I’m not going to try to educate anyone – I know as much as google and a few years of low level psychology class will tell me – but I would really like to write about my own depression, in the hope that one day I can look back on it and understand it, and myself, a little better.
The term “depression” is one I have always been wary of using. Before I had a doctor-provided diagnosis, or even acknowledged that my feelings may seriously warrant one, I have been annoyed by people who sigh and say “Ugh, I feel so depressed”. Some of them may have been genuinely depressed, I’m sure, but it seems to have entered colloquial vocabulary as a synonym for frustration, or sadness. Depression is not sadness.
It’s different for everyone, I’m sure. But this is me, and my experience of it. For me, it was like breathing thicker air than everyone else. Every breath laboured, every single moment of every single day overshadowed by this crushing feeling in my chest. Depression is not sadness, it’s helplessness, hopelessness. It’s feeling that nothing is worth doing because everything is empty, pointless. It isn’t laying in bed because you’re lazy, it’s laying in bed because the thought of getting up and existing in a world so clearly not intended for you to exist in, leaves you feeling so raw and vulnerable that you can’t bear to do it.
Depression is not being alone. It’s being surrounded by people and still wanting to cry without knowing why. It’s avoiding phonecalls and texts from people who genuinely care about why you’ve disappeared, and ignoring them for so long that they stop coming, and it’s feeling relieved that you don’t have to avoid them anymore. It’s not seeing anyone or anything of meaning or note for weeks on end because it’s agony to be social, when the first thing anyone ever asks is “How are you?” and you’re too emotionally exhausted to lie but the answer is too horrible to face.
There are a lot of people who feel as though treating depression with medication is the easy answer. As someone who made four doctors appointments that I didn’t attend, and two that I did attend but chickened out at the last minute and made up another problem when they asked me what was wrong, let me assure you that there is absolutely nothing easy about walking into a room, sitting down with a medical professional and saying, “I need help. I think I have depression”.
It’s the subtext in that, that makes it so difficult. It’s the things you don’t say, by saying that. “I’ve tried to have a life, I can’t, it’s too hard”. “I failed at being happy”. “There is something so desperately wrong with me that I think about killing myself for most of every day”. That is not a good conversation to have. It’s not an easy conversation to start. No one who takes an anti-depressant, does so because they think it will fix their problem.
But when your problem is that you can’t deal with life, you need something to make dealing with it possible, and that’s what these pills do. Almost all of them have side effects. These are not easy options. When you start to feel better, that’s when you can start looking at the things that have been making you feel this way. I’m sure that bit will be even harder still.
I’m starting to feel a little bit better, but I’m not there yet. As much as I may have really good ideas about the things that have turned me into this shell of a person, I’m still not ready to really think about them in any depth. Some things I can’t even say properly because I can’t force myself to use the words, so I think I’m still a way off.
This blog may or may not help me. It might just chronicle yet another failure of mine to deal with my myriad of issues. I hope not though. But one thing is as clear as ever, as clear as it has always been – I’ve never been alone while I’ve been trying to get better. Thank you guys for being my friends. I’m not sure that it was always worth it for you, but know that you were always appreciated.
I don’t think I ever really appreciated what a strangle-hold the thing has had of you of late. I hope medication helps you find opportunity to explore the source. I’ve said it before but it’s worth repeating: I think a trained counsellor is never a bad idea if you want help bubbling things to the surface in a safe, non-judgemental environment. A close family member of mine suffering from depression recently began a course of psychotherapy and so far the effects are very very positive. I will always do whatever I can personally to help you, of course. Whatever you need, as long as it’s not criminal, I am willing to give it a go. <3
I remember how hard it was when I went to see the doctor. I was 17 or 18, and he told me to take paracetamol for the spaced-out and sad feelings I was having. So, I did, and then went back a few weeks later and told him I still felt the same and when he finally referred me to a psychiatrist they told me I had BPD.
Doctors suck.
I’ve never taken pills, but the talking definitely helped and taught me how to cope better with episodes.
I’m really glad the meds are starting to work. They are a stepping stone and I always think of them not as a cure but as a way of gaining a new perspective. The things that seem overwhelming will become, eventually, manageable.
Every now and again, I feel drawn to the lowness, but it’s easier to get out of because, when you’ve done it once, you know you’ll be able to do it again.
Solution-focused therapy is meant to be quite good, as it CBT. Hope you continue to feel better and we’re always here to listen if you’re not.