Depression is a tricky little monster.
It is chronically misunderstood, widely criticized and often misdiagnosed, especially by a busy, dismissive GP. It is sometimes used as an umbrella term for all things sad and blue – reduced to simple semantics; a dramatic word used for an everyday feeling.
At times, it is packaged as part of a sad two-for-one deal in conjunction with anxiety, which of course has its own set of challenges. The two often share a dance card, though they don’t always tango together. There can be an overlap of symptoms – irritability, poor sleep, lack of concentration to name a few – but in clinical terms, each disorder has its own distinct set of features.
I have battled both, on and off, since my early teenage years. Anxiety is an oftentime companion and generally kept at bay with medication, while I have only experienced three major depressive episodes – one of which I am currently in the middle of. As a long-term student of psychology, I understand why this is; academically speaking. I can tell you all about my brain’s hippocampus, its excessive production of cortisol and how altering my serotonin levels can help stabilise me. I could tell you the major life events which have likely triggered the depressive episode and explain how my genetic makeup has played a role in the onset and recurrence of the disorder.
But as someone who is – right now – being held hostage by my symptoms, none of that really matters. I don’t care how or why. Right now it doesn’t matter if my grandmother’s mother’s aunt had Bipolar Disorder or if there’s a history of familial institutionalisation. I don’t care which SSRI I’m taking or whether the dosage is higher than it should be. And I’m certainly not thinking about which chemicals are doing what in which part of my brain. Right now, I’m just angry and scared and frustrated because I want it to all go away. Before I fall asleep at night (if I sleep), I am negotiating with myself. To fight off the feelings of worthlessness, to push through the lethargy and fatigue. I make deals with myself – get up early and you can have an extra coffee. Write an article and you’ll feel accomplished. Visit your friends and they’ll make you laugh.
It’s like negotiating with a defiant two-year old; bribery helps, but we’re always only 30 seconds away from a tantrum.
Of course, there is a widely known list of to-do’s which can help. Exercise more; it produces endorphins which will lift your mood. Cut back on alcohol; it’s a downer and can fuel your symptoms. Cut back on caffeine; it’s an upper and can induce your anxiety. Write a journal; it’s helpful to unscramble your brain onto paper. Get outside and into nature, soak up the vitamin D; it will regulate your mood. You can always distract yourself too – read or write, or if you want to take really drastic measures, get a three hour tattoo like I did.
All of these things might help. As might therapy. Or medication. Or a combination of all of it. Maybe get a dog – they’re a guaranteed pick-me-up.
The thing is – you can do all of these things and still not want to get out of bed. Often I will fall back into sleep as a way to shut my brain off or at least pass the time without the insidious feelings of hopelessness. I know my brain is telling my body to retreat. And sometimes my body needs to power down to restore itself. Other times, I might need to sit in the chaos or the confusion. My brain may be mapping the many ways in which to find a solution. It might take days or weeks and I may need to be left to my own devices. It’s hard to know what’s best, especially when I feel overdrawn on emotion. I often need to remind myself that we are smarter than what our feelings tell us.
If it is a day where everything threatens to overwhelm – like today – I do have to trust that my brain and body will point me in the right direction and without judgement. Sleep, sun, water, food, meditation, exercise, aloneness – I will refuel in whatever way feels right. It may still be a bad day – but it will be a day that I have survived.
You are not your depression. You are not your lack of energy or your thoughts of worthlessness. You are not your inexplicable sadness or irrational fears. You may feel those things and that’s okay. Take a moment, recognise it and move on. Sleep if you need to. Seek help if you need to. Talk it out if you want. Get a three hour tattoo if it will help. Do whatever works.
Today, depression sucks.
Let’s see what tomorrow brings.
