I’m still depressed (and I need to remember that)
50mg Sertraline, taken daily, has lifted a cloud from my brain. While I don’t feel 100% at my best, it’s allowed me to embrace my creativity again. I’m able to plan out a full day of work. I can think again.
But this ability to function doesn’t mean I’m not still depressed.
I’m on anti-depressants because I’m depressed. I’m doing therapy because I’m depressed. And I feel awful on some days because I’m still depressed.
I might not feel like it some days. In fact, some days I feel back to my old self. But it’s still there, hovering over my mind.
Since settling into my anti-depressants, I’ve been mostly feeling fine. Maybe not as good as I was a couple of years ago, but better.
But every so often I have days where I’m just listless. I’ll suddenly lose energy and find myself with no ability to focus. Words won’t come. My energy will tank, and all I’ll be able to do is lie down and watch TV.
And when I lamented this to Aine, she made a very sensible point:
“You’re still depressed, you know.”
But the thing is, I want to be better.
No one wants to be depressed. And sometimes I need to cling to the fact that it won’t be forever. That as hard as this has been, eventually I will work through to the other side. I might never be exactly who I was, but hopefully I’ll be in a new place where I no longer need my crutches.
And it’s all too easy to try and convince yourself this won’t take too long.
Another friend reminded me of this in a recent chat. They told me about how long it took for them to reposition themselves after a significant breakup. Now they always find it amusing when anyone else goes through a similar thing and claims they just need a couple of months to get over it.
It’s a coping mechanism, I guess. When we’re in a place we don’t want to be, it’s natural to not want to be honest with yourself about how long you’ll need to be there.
If you break a leg, they’ll put you in a cast and give you painkillers. And between these two things, you might be able to walk without feeling pain. Not as well as before, but enough that you stop thinking about it.
But that doesn’t mean your leg isn’t still broken.
It’s the same with the mind. And I need to remember that.
I’m still depressed. And I might well be for some time yet. At the very least I’ll be on the anti-depressants for the rest of this year. And I’ll be carrying on with my therapy for as long as I can still afford it.
I know on the way back.
I’m just not there yet.
