It’s been quite some time since I updated this blog. It makes me sad because I love writing. It’s just that, right now, depression is kicking my butt. Big time.
Depression isn’t anything new to me, but each time it rears it’s head it seems to hit harder than the last time. I was first diagnosed with depression when I was around seventeen or eighteen. I’d finished year twelve, was working in the local supermarket and living at home with my parents. I remember my psychologist emailing me about it. Telling me that she’d had a chat to one of her colleagues and they both thought that I seemed quite stuck and that things shouldn’t be as hard as they seemed to be. She proposed a visit to my GP to discuss some medication (antidepressants) to see if that might help a little.
So by my eighteenth birthday I was on antidepressants. I was still struggling but my mood did pick up. I stayed on that same antidepressant for many years without any trouble. I’d come off it every now and then, completely convinced that I didn’t need it and that I was fine… only to become suicidal within a couple of weeks. I’d start the medication again and within a few weeks be more on track.
That was until the end of 2010. It was a horrendous year for me. Lots of triggers, lots of internal and external chaos. I wasn’t coping well. I was in and out of the public psych ward for months without much change. It was towards the end of this period that I decided to come off my antidepressant, the same one I’d been on for the previous five years. I was absolutely, dead set certain that I needed to, had to die. I remember lying in the emergency department very early one morning with a friend’s dad keeping me company. I was begging him to allow me to die, trying to convince him that it was okay and needed to happen. I figured that I felt worse than I ever had, that the medication was making no difference, and so I stopped taking it.
In time things picked up again. I got back on track – went back to studying, working, and managing my life reasonably well. Until now. I’m not sure where the depression came from, but it’s back. Well and truly back. The suicidal thoughts (mine and others inside) have settled which is a relief. I’m no longer intently following a plan that will lead to my death. The crisis (in terms of safety) seems to have passed, however the depression is dragging me down.
I don’t remember it ever being like this, but I assume it has. I don’t think this time is any different to others, it’s just I don’t remember it being so horrible. I don’t have the emotional energy inside to hate it… but if I did, that’s how I’d be feeling. I feel so very worn out, so run down. I don’t see the point in doing much from self-care (showering, brushing hair, changing clothes etc.) to spending time with family and friends or things I know I used to enjoy.
I know there are things that can help improve my mood – creating routine, getting some exercise in, eating well, doing something enjoyable each day. The issue, for me, is actually doing them. I wake up most days wishing I was still asleep, wishing the day was over before it’s even started. I don’t have words to describe just how hard it is to get up each day.
I don’t remember depression ever hitting this hard.