Depression is not my friend. I do not like It. It frustrates me, demotivates me, breaks me. It is a lens through which every single thing in my life looks either utterly urgent or completely pointless. I don't want It. I wish It away. But once It takes its abode, It must be endured, suffered, and with any luck, managed. It is like a bad marriage -- It lasts forever.
And yes, I call It "It," and I capitalize "It," because It is real.
It is an actual entity with a life of its own.
It is insidious and parasitic.
It tells me how overwhelming every little thing in my life is.
It is relentless.
And It isn't going anywhere.
I used to take prescription pills for It. They helped, they really did. I actually liked the pills. They kind of helped my brain to keep itself in check; helped me to sort out what was real and important, and what was not. They helped me to feel better most all the time. But coming off the pills...that was hard. A few years ago, when my brain was managing It really well, I gradually stopped taking the pills. There were several difficult, heart-wrenching weeks of withdrawals, but eventually I evened out and things were OK.
"It" first came after I'd had my first child. When he was about 15 months old, I was diagnosed with "Depression and General Anxiety Disorder (GAD, depression's kissing cousin). Between my first and second children I took pills for a couple of years and then weaned myself off of them. My husband and I were aware that It could come back after our youngest was born, but we decided to try to manage It without the use of pills. Neither of us wanted to see me go through the withdrawals again. We decided together that I'd be better off dealing with a few "bad days" (more accurately, dealing with the bad days one day at a time) than to deal with years of numbing myself.
There is a wonderful scene in the movie "Garden State." The main character, Andrew, has been taking a plethora of antidepressants most of his life (his father is a psychiatrist and prescribes them). But Andrew tells his father that he's decided to stop taking all the pills and he talks about how he's tired of being numb, and he wants to feel however he feels and be whoever he is, and "that will be better." That is kind of where I am at the moment. I can't say that managing depression without medication is "better" all of the time. But I like *this* version of "better" better than the other. [If that makes any sense]
Although I no longer take prescription medication, I do take a supplement. My mother sent me this link: http://www.doctoroz.com/videos/best-natural-anti-depressants. It lists many things to consider when treating depression (like diet and exercise), and it tells of several over the counter supplements that can be taken. I chose 5-HTP. To be honest, I don't even exactly know what 5-HTP is. Its effects may be real and true, or it may have no more effect than a placebo, but I no longer feel like I'm spinning out of control, so I will continue to take it.
Sometimes, when someone finds out I have depression, they'll say something like, "Now hun, there's no need for you to be depressed. You have a lot going for you: a wonderful family, beautiful sons, a husband that loves you, and you're talented at so many things."
They mean well. Of course they mean well. But can you imagine saying all that to a cancer patient? Or a diabetic? Or someone with MS?
"Now hun, there's no need for you to have cancer..."
Right.
October is National Depression Awareness Month. When you encounter someone who is hesitant to smile, who sees their glass half empty, who appears lazy...be slow to judge. You never know what heavy load someone is carrying, or whether that load is not something they've picked up at all, but a medical condition that weighs on them.
Depression is part of me. It is a permanent resident. That's the thing about It -- there is no cure. It has to be managed, which is often times easier said than done, although management truly is possible. I have glimpsed those moments, and I would like more of them. It takes a lot of work though. For those of us who have depression, our perceptions and feelings color everything we do and everyone we come into contact with. We walk a fine line between eggshells and hot coals every minute of every day. It's exhausting. I have to perpetually make the choice either to be adversely affected by whatever life brings me, or to proactively affect what happens in my life. While I can't say that I succeed at being proactive every single day, I hope that with time, I will learn to endure toward health and choose to soak up happiness, and to have the strength to look "It" head-on in the face and say, "You are not welcome here, and you can't sit with me."
~Dum spiro spero~
Latin, "While I breathe, I hope."
