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So it is four, nearly five, in the morning and I, of course, cannot sleep for a variety of reasons. So instead I've decided to finally get around to writing some of the harder posts I've been tossing around in my head. Feel free to skip this one mostly I'm blathering on about my past, my life views, and my headspace. Nothing terribly interesting.
Depression: n
4. Psychology. A psychiatric disorder characterized by an inability to concentrate, insomnia, loss of appetite, anhedonia, feelings of extreme sadness, guilt, helplessness and hopelessness, and thoughts of death. Also called clinical depression.
Depression, for me at least, is about the little things. Sure there are big things too but mostly it is always about the little things. Waking up, getting up, breathing, not crying, not screaming, not hurting yourself or others - nothing huge but everything in between. It isn't about being happy or sad. Not really. Being depressed doesn't mean you aren't happy and don't have the occasional interlude where nothing matters. I can say for certain that I am right now happier then I have ever been with my life. I can also say for certain that I am fighting off one of the worse episodes of depression that I have had for some time. Or maybe I'm not, the severity of them is hard to tell at times. The one thing that being happy and depressed (looks so odd in print that) means is that you don't want to kill yourself. That or when I gave up on those thoughts it stuck better then I hoped for. So not being suicidal is always nice after wanting to die for years and years. You'd think after a while you'd just do it but I procrastinated long enough that I guess it wasn't something I really wanted. Ahh now I really can say procrastination has saved my life.
I guess I should give the viewing audience a little background on my depression. I can't say for sure when it started. I suspect it was in 3rd grade or so when my mother and father really separated for good. My mother and I went to AZ and my father stayed in Las Vegas. I remember crying on my mother's lap for almost the entire year afterwards. A year of tears; I wasn't the same afterwards. So anyhow skip ahead a few years of moves and crazy shit into teenagerdom and you have the typical teen angst years. Most of the time, as far as I can remember, between ages say 12-23 I wanted to die. Not always of course. There were good days and bad but it was an ever present part of my life. It get real bad and I'd get real suicidal. I think my mother still worries about it at times. Though we had well ...anyhow dirty laundry and all that, this is not the place. So what was so magical about age 23? Nothing really, other then I learned that if things got rough, as they did with Ten Clan, I would put myself before others and take care of me even if it hurt to do it. I guess I finally realized that I was worth something. Queer to think of because I didn't exactly doubt it before but there you have it. Even if it would tear me in two, I would not let myself drown in life's bullshit. So I stopped wanting to die. The trade off? I got to cut myself up on the outside instead of the inside.
Cliche, I know, but what ever. I am a walking stereotype at times so it doesn't really bother me. It helped, the cutting, for the short period of time I enjoyed it. The weird logic, which I never thought out too much but is what went on, was this- during the suicidal years I could never cut my wrist because I was afraid of the pain, if I excepted the pain, if I excepted life, then I could express the pain and cut my arm up. Crap logic and sounds odd but it helped. I stopped for the same reason I ever stop anything, I didn't want to anymore. It served a purpose and I was done. So that leads me to my present day goals and battles with depression.
And it is a battle, an everyday battle. Some days are good days and some days... well some days I get out of bed to use the bathroom and maybe eat, that's all. It isn't even that you don't know, in your head, that things aren't that bad. It is hard to explain to people who have never been depressed or who haven't be depressed for very long. Because, honestly, depression doesn't make much sense. You know, in your head, that things are okay, and even when they aren't you know things can get better, but it doesn't seem like it. Hell if you can even have those thoughts you are lucky because sometimes those thoughts aren't there and things never seem to get better. It doesn't even always come when things are going badly, sometimes things are fine then someone says something small or you see something that normally would mean nothing and WHAM there goes a perfectly good day, or week, or month. You feel stupid, useless, and like nothing you do will ever matter in the end because the end is now and breathing hurts more then words can ever describe. Then next maybe comes the anger, the jealousies, the rage, the tears, and it all becomes a giant juxtaposition in your head. Other times it is just a slow cold shiver down your back that slows you up and you can't ever figure out why. Like something sitting in your head sucking, sucking, sucking all the life out until you wonder what happened and oh wouldn't be nice to just go to sleep for a while, just a little while longer.
I finally broke down and decided to try some more anti-depressant drugs. I avoided them for a long time because a lot of the issues weren't gonna go away because of the drugs. That and I'm a stubborn bitch who hates leaning on any crutch. I had the mentality (and still do) that if I can't get by in life with the hand dealt to me without the use of drugs then maybe I shouldn't get by. But if I take correction for my eyesight then I can take correction for the chemicals in my blood. Any issues beyond that will be dealt with accordingly. I should be getting the script this Friday and we'll see how it goes. At this point, I feel that what's left of my depression is mostly chemical and as tough as I am, as good as I have gotten with dealing with the ups and down of my bodies cycles I can't beat my own blood chemistry... well not forever. Maybe it won't work or I won't like the feeling of it, if so I'll stop and muddle on. To me you reach a point where you have two choices, you can give up, wallow in your self-loathing, pissing your life away or you can get up off your ass over and over again and keep trying. I figure since I'm here I might as well have a little fun along the way. After all, what's the point to life and living if you don't do just that - live.
4. Psychology. A psychiatric disorder characterized by an inability to concentrate, insomnia, loss of appetite, anhedonia, feelings of extreme sadness, guilt, helplessness and hopelessness, and thoughts of death. Also called clinical depression.
Depression, for me at least, is about the little things. Sure there are big things too but mostly it is always about the little things. Waking up, getting up, breathing, not crying, not screaming, not hurting yourself or others - nothing huge but everything in between. It isn't about being happy or sad. Not really. Being depressed doesn't mean you aren't happy and don't have the occasional interlude where nothing matters. I can say for certain that I am right now happier then I have ever been with my life. I can also say for certain that I am fighting off one of the worse episodes of depression that I have had for some time. Or maybe I'm not, the severity of them is hard to tell at times. The one thing that being happy and depressed (looks so odd in print that) means is that you don't want to kill yourself. That or when I gave up on those thoughts it stuck better then I hoped for. So not being suicidal is always nice after wanting to die for years and years. You'd think after a while you'd just do it but I procrastinated long enough that I guess it wasn't something I really wanted. Ahh now I really can say procrastination has saved my life.
I guess I should give the viewing audience a little background on my depression. I can't say for sure when it started. I suspect it was in 3rd grade or so when my mother and father really separated for good. My mother and I went to AZ and my father stayed in Las Vegas. I remember crying on my mother's lap for almost the entire year afterwards. A year of tears; I wasn't the same afterwards. So anyhow skip ahead a few years of moves and crazy shit into teenagerdom and you have the typical teen angst years. Most of the time, as far as I can remember, between ages say 12-23 I wanted to die. Not always of course. There were good days and bad but it was an ever present part of my life. It get real bad and I'd get real suicidal. I think my mother still worries about it at times. Though we had well ...anyhow dirty laundry and all that, this is not the place. So what was so magical about age 23? Nothing really, other then I learned that if things got rough, as they did with Ten Clan, I would put myself before others and take care of me even if it hurt to do it. I guess I finally realized that I was worth something. Queer to think of because I didn't exactly doubt it before but there you have it. Even if it would tear me in two, I would not let myself drown in life's bullshit. So I stopped wanting to die. The trade off? I got to cut myself up on the outside instead of the inside.
Cliche, I know, but what ever. I am a walking stereotype at times so it doesn't really bother me. It helped, the cutting, for the short period of time I enjoyed it. The weird logic, which I never thought out too much but is what went on, was this- during the suicidal years I could never cut my wrist because I was afraid of the pain, if I excepted the pain, if I excepted life, then I could express the pain and cut my arm up. Crap logic and sounds odd but it helped. I stopped for the same reason I ever stop anything, I didn't want to anymore. It served a purpose and I was done. So that leads me to my present day goals and battles with depression.
And it is a battle, an everyday battle. Some days are good days and some days... well some days I get out of bed to use the bathroom and maybe eat, that's all. It isn't even that you don't know, in your head, that things aren't that bad. It is hard to explain to people who have never been depressed or who haven't be depressed for very long. Because, honestly, depression doesn't make much sense. You know, in your head, that things are okay, and even when they aren't you know things can get better, but it doesn't seem like it. Hell if you can even have those thoughts you are lucky because sometimes those thoughts aren't there and things never seem to get better. It doesn't even always come when things are going badly, sometimes things are fine then someone says something small or you see something that normally would mean nothing and WHAM there goes a perfectly good day, or week, or month. You feel stupid, useless, and like nothing you do will ever matter in the end because the end is now and breathing hurts more then words can ever describe. Then next maybe comes the anger, the jealousies, the rage, the tears, and it all becomes a giant juxtaposition in your head. Other times it is just a slow cold shiver down your back that slows you up and you can't ever figure out why. Like something sitting in your head sucking, sucking, sucking all the life out until you wonder what happened and oh wouldn't be nice to just go to sleep for a while, just a little while longer.
I finally broke down and decided to try some more anti-depressant drugs. I avoided them for a long time because a lot of the issues weren't gonna go away because of the drugs. That and I'm a stubborn bitch who hates leaning on any crutch. I had the mentality (and still do) that if I can't get by in life with the hand dealt to me without the use of drugs then maybe I shouldn't get by. But if I take correction for my eyesight then I can take correction for the chemicals in my blood. Any issues beyond that will be dealt with accordingly. I should be getting the script this Friday and we'll see how it goes. At this point, I feel that what's left of my depression is mostly chemical and as tough as I am, as good as I have gotten with dealing with the ups and down of my bodies cycles I can't beat my own blood chemistry... well not forever. Maybe it won't work or I won't like the feeling of it, if so I'll stop and muddle on. To me you reach a point where you have two choices, you can give up, wallow in your self-loathing, pissing your life away or you can get up off your ass over and over again and keep trying. I figure since I'm here I might as well have a little fun along the way. After all, what's the point to life and living if you don't do just that - live.
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From:
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From:
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Good luck and I hope things get better for ya *hugs*
From:
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From:
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I recently went on meds for depression too. I can't remember a time in my life when I wasn't depressed, and you do a good job of explaining it. Not to turn this into a "me" moment, but I realized I hate the medication and now I'm trying to make other life changes. I picked up a great book: Natural Prozac. For the first time in my life I'm exercising every day. Erm, if you knew me you'd know how O.O that is. I can feel it slowly changing my brain chemistry. Oh yeah, it's a good thing.
I really wish you the best. You are loved.
♥
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