When I penned the last entry I noticed something that I definitely would not have if I had not been blogging. I was talking about how depression had shaped my current thinking, and whatnot, and I relayed it to a past post about depression, Kinda hard for regular readers to recall what recent entry has not been about depression, right? Anyway, I went to link it up, and noticed something as I was copying the link location. That entry was from a couple months ago. Then, I decided to look at the list of all of my blog entries, and realized that the first one that I begin to discuss this current bout of depression was in October. October?! I did a quick count on my fingers. That was four months ago! Has it been that long? Surely I have not been in this state for four months. I couldn't have been. Wouldn't I have known?
I had no way around the facts that were laying out there in black, and white. I have been slipping into a very serious depression, and I was not fully aware of it.
I thought, how could this be? My only answers were that it was comparable to a frog in a pot of water that is slowly heated until he's done. I didn't notice it, because it was a gradual decline into discomfort. Every now, and then the water might cool off, and then I'd notice it when the temperature sharply rose again, but for the most part it was a game of complacency. I would know I was down, but I got so used to feeling that way that it became my new norm, so when the depression pulled me even deeper the slight change was only a tinge of noticeable difference in mood.
At first I thought that I really shouldn't write yet another blog entry about depression. Won't my readers get tired of reading about my woes? Maybe. I don't really know. What I do know is that I write what I feel, and right now my truth is this horrid black cloud hanging over my head. I'd never bring it up in real time conversation, and you'd never know I was so far down if you were talking to me. The thing is, on my bad days no one talks to me, because I make sure they don't. I cancel appointments, and don't answer the phone. I sleep a lot, and watch tv. (Two things I don't do much of.) It's not like it's something I really want to bring up in everyday conversation.
If this were one of my bad days I wouldn't be writing this entry at all. I'd not have the thought process to do so, nor would I feel that I had anything of value to share with anyone anyway. I simply wouldn't bother. If I did it would be full of dark humor, and swear words. You might think if someone is depressed they lose their humor. That's when some of us get ours really warmed up. The more down I get the more twisted, and sailor-ish my thoughts get. Think Lewis Black, or Anthony Jesselnick. Not only are my thoughts crude, and dark, but that little part of my brain that says "No. Don't say that." isn't there. It goes away leaving me no filter, at all. I simply don't care enough to care. I don't even consider if I sound offensive to anyone. That would require too much thinking, and anxiety. Did I mention my anxiety goes almost all the way away when I am feeling really down? Yes. I no longer care about my weight, or if I might be late, or if I'm upsetting people. I really have zero f*cks to give about pretty much anything related to myself.
It's not that I feel rock bottom low all the time anymore. I have days where it isn't so bad. Most days are a big mixed bag, though. Mornings have been by far the worst. This is new to me. I have had other depressions before, and all of them caused my mood to dip in the evenings. All my energy was spent by then, and I would fall into sadness. This time, however, my mood fares much, much worse earlier in the day rather than later. Most days I am hit with a wall of sadness, and despair as soon as I open my eyes. Literally, the first moment of consciousness is one that reminds me I am still here, and I am still feeling the same. It's almost as if I'm disappointed that I even woke up most days. By late afternoon my mood has usually improved to a very solid coping stage. I am able to get moving, and get stuff done.
Except I don't get it all done.
My ability to think is shot. I'm not able to remember important things. I keep losing my words, or using the wrong ones. My ability to function is suffering. I am the the person who organizes, and runs the household, so when my duties slip, it becomes obvious. The water was shut off the day before yesterday. It's not that I couldn't pay it. It was just that I had written the check, and put it up so that Beans wouldn't get it, and forgot about it. It was an mistake, but one that was tangible in terms of how bad I was slipping. It's not that my husband isn't helping. It's just that he doesn't know all of what needs done, and can't do it all on his own. So, at point things are at times operating at crisis mode. At least, to us not having water constitutes crisis, or would be if it didn't get turned back on within a couple hours.
I have turned the situation around, and around in my head trying to figure out what went wrong. What has sparked this recent set of issues? Normally, I am able to tweak my habits around to rise out of the funk. I can eat better, exercise more, get more sleep, and be as positive as possible. This usually works for me to keep depression levels at a minimum.
Not this time.
This time it is actually sucking all the energy out of me to be awake. Eating isn't something I'm doing much of these days, and sleeping is one area I have covered.
So, what could it be?
I surmise that it has quite a bit to do with the hysterectomy a few months ago. On top of that we have had several family emergencies within our family that have gone non-stop, and done so without much support. My guess is I ran out of spoons a long time ago, and just kept going, because I had to. I didn't have any other choice, except there is always a a price to pay for going over one's mental, and physical energy balance. I believe that is the consequence that has come upon me now. It's gone on for as long as it can.
I am always one that says to others "If you need to talk to someone please talk to me. I will listen, but don't suffer in silent isolation." I don't think I realized how hard that is until recently. With my thoughts becoming ever increasingly dark what was I to say to a friend? It's not that I don't have any at all. It's that either in my darkest moments I lie to myself that I don't, or that I shouldn't bother them with my issues. It just seems awkward texting someone "Hi. I wish I was never born. How are you doing today?" I'm not going to do that, so I keep so much of this in my own mind where the isolation breeds more suffering.
Reaching out is harder when in the midst of depression than it looks, but it's the only way out of severe depression. I finally did so last week, and I got the strength to make an appointment to see my doctor. Tomorrow I begin a new medication. Wish me luck. I'll try to keep you all updated.