Depression is not for the faint of heart
Depression is not for the faint of heart.
A week ago, I was officially diagnosed with major depressive
disorder, also known as major depression or clinical depression. This was not
exactly a surprise. I have dealt with depression for as long as I can remember.
But this was the first time I was actually told it was actually a big deal. I
assumed it was the “normal” kind of depression, whatever that is. I just
thought that it wasn’t too serious since I have never tried to kill myself or
anything. But it is serious. I am slowly coming to realize how much my illness
affects my life.
From what I remember/understand that my new therapist told
me, a big part of depression is an incorrect “wiring” in my brain, causing
miscommunication and extreme emotional reactions to things. He told me that a
lot of our thinking is formed by the time we’re seven, so if something taught
us then to react a certain way, it’s likely that will stick with us for the
rest of our lives. Another thing that affects the way we react to things has to
do with our memories.
Memories can be
stored in either the right side or the left side of the brain. If they are
associated with the left side, they’re more logical, therefore our reactions
are logical. If they are associated with the right, they are emotional.
Basically if situation A happens, your brain should tell you the appropriate
reaction is B. But if something happens that changes how you think, when
situation A happens, your brain tells you to do C. I do not claim to be a
psychologist or anything, and I am probably misremembering what he told me. But
when he was talking to me, it made sense. If your left brain (the logical side)
can’t tell your right brain (emotion) to chill out and not react so strongly,
there’s a problem.
People have always told me I am sensitive and I react too
much to what people say or do. Well there’s a reason for that. At some point in
my life, I was taught, subconsciously, that this was the way I was supposed to
act. I am not sure when or why it happened, but that’s the way it is. Here’s
the thing though. I know that the way I am reacting is usually silly. I know I
shouldn’t get upset over little things or whatever. I know that, logically. But
a lot of times, that logic doesn’t translate to my emotions. I am not sure how
to describe this…
So when I am depressed, I know I am depressed. I am
completely aware of it. I know that the things I am thinking are not entirely
true and that everything isn’t terrible and even if it is, it won’t be terrible
forever. There is a voice in my mind that tells me to stop and to wake up and move and function like a human being. It
tells me to stop crying at nothing and to get out of bed and to give two craps
about my life. But it’s like that voice is in a room pounding on the glass
while the rest of my mind sinks deeper and deeper into the void of despair and
sadness. I can hear it, I can acknowledge it, but I can’t do anything about it.
I can’t reach through the murky darkness and let it out. I know that if I
could, I would be happier. I would function normally and be a better friend and
a better person to be around, but I just can’t. It’s not because I don’t want
to. Anyone who thinks that I want to feel this way is fooling themselves. I
take no delight in it.
Lately, I have been a bit of a hermit. I generally only
leave my house for work, church, therapy, and if I have to do errands like go
to the library or get my learner’s permit. Being alone or with my parents is
just so much easier. When I am around other people, I have to try and act like
I’m ok. I have to put on a happy face and interact with humans and generally
pretend I’m totally fine and happy. It is so exhausting. And most of the time,
I don’t want to do it. Even going to church is a struggle. Being around that
many people for so long and having to keep the façade up for the whole time…if
it weren’t for the small amount of time I get to spend with my friends, I don’t
think I could do it.
Work is a little bit easier because I have a cubicle and I
don’t usually have to deal with more than two people in person and then
whatever people call on the phone. Faking a cheery phone voice is something I
learned working at a call center for a year and a half. Also, as of right now,
I don’t have a lot to do at my job. I don’t have any big projects or anything,
so most of the time I am just trying to look busy while feeling awkward
whenever I ask if there’s anything I can be doing. Part of me wants to do more,
but I am also terrified of doing a bad job. I’ve only been there two months and
I still make mistakes. Small ones, but that’s almost more than I can handle
sometimes. If I made a big mistake, I think I would completely fall apart.
Yeah, that’s the other fun aspect of my depression. A paralyzing
fear of being seen as a failure or as stupid. Right now, I cannot handle any
situation where I may potentially fail. I will think of myself as worthless and
a waste of space and it will send me spiraling instantly.
For example, I was recently playing a game with friends and
I made some beginner mistakes over and over again. I mean, in the real world,
it meant nothing. But in the game, it mattered. And every time I did something
wrong, I felt worse and worse and I kept trying to prove I was better than
that. And as a result I kept making mistakes. Finally I made a big mistake and
tried to spend two hours of my life trying to fix it, but continually making it
worse. I felt terrible. I knew how disappointed and upset the others would be.
I thought they would yell and ostracize me and potentially kick me out. So I
stopped playing. I couldn’t bear the thought of talking to them and facing them
again. Even seeing the people I played with in person is almost too much for
me. I want to hide and shrink away. And the really sad part is that I still have
an instinct to get back on there and try again and just prove that I really am
good.
What I have learned in this last week of ultra-awareness of
my mental illness is that life is composed of battles for me. Battles against
my logical mind and my depression. Today, I was faced with the temptation to
get a full liter and a half of Mountain Dew for a dollar at the Dollar Store. I
am trying to stop drinking soda, but I knew that if I drank that Mountain Dew,
it would taste so good and it would make me hyper and temporarily push the
depression from my mind. But I didn’t give in. My mind won that fight. Later, I
was trying to decide what to do for dinner because my parents were out. My
depression won that fight and I ordered a pizza and wings for myself. This is
what it’s like for me. Sometimes my depression wins more battles than my mind.
It’s easier. It’s simple.
I wish I could disappear. I wish I could just let my depression
swallow me whole and make me vanish. It’s the closest to suicidal thoughts that
I ever get. That is the one fight my mind will win every time, no contest. My
depression can daydream about vanishing all it wants, but it will never, ever
gain any ground there. So at least I know that’s one less thing I have to worry
about.
It is such a hard thing to explain to people. They think you
just need to push through it and keep going. Just shrug it off and move on. It
is so far from being that simple. It is a massive oppressive weight bearing
down on me every day. When I can push it up just an inch that is a victory. Any
day when I get out of bed is a victory to be honest. I mean isn’t that the
point of depression? If I could shrug it off and act like I am totally fine,
then it wouldn’t be depression now would it?
I used to think I was being dramatic. I felt stupid for
being depressed. But since I’ve been officially given a name for it, I realize
that it really is an illness. It is. I have a mental illness. It affects me
almost every day, some days more than others, and I have to learn how to deal
with it. Thankfully, this illness is treatable and even curable. I am working
on it daily on my own and weekly with my therapist. But it will take several
months before I am better. I know I am lucky to have the support system I do
and the means to go to a good therapist. I am thankful for that.
What’s my point here…my point is that I am sorry to everyone
I have affected with my illness. I am sorry to my friends for being needy,
clingy, annoying, and constantly venting to you about my feelings. Depression is
an inherently selfish disease and I hate being so self-centered. I would much
rather talk to you about you. I am sorry to my parents for being such a bum
lately. It’s not that I don’t want to do things…Well it is, but it isn’t. I
want to but I don’t Shhh, don’t question the logic. I’m sorry to my siblings
for all of the above. I’m sorry to everyone for everything, basically. I
promise I don’t mean it and I want to get better.
And hopefully, soon I will be.
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