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juushikaIt's been a few months now since my baseline mood started to slip lower than normal, and after a tumultuous weekend I've begun to consider the possibility that I may be having another major depressive episode.
I've been hesitant to consider this possibility because most of my episodes have been absolute hell on earth. I spent them either in school or in the process of dropping out, which meant that my depression was complicated by dozens of real-world influences that triggered comorbid anxiety and gave undeniable evidence to my mental health troubles. The problems I'm having now seem smaller because I've trimmed stresses and responsibilities from my life, so I'm not dealing with as much anxiety and there's no hard evidence (like missed classes or slipping grades) that I'm experiencing anything more than dysthymia. And of course I have a hard time trusting my own feelings—because part of me really does believe that I make it up, this complicated mess within my head, because I like to suffer, because I like sympathy*, because I don't want to interact with the real world.
Objectively, however, I am a walking checklist of major depressive episode criteria: I've been feeling consistently lower than my baseline for a number of months, my appetite has decreased and I'm having worse-than-usual problems with sleep, I'm having severe problems concentrating and I'm generally enjoy myself less, and I'm clumsier and more listless than my usual. The only things that hasn't changed is my sense of self-worth and thoughts of death—but the former is never high and these days there are fewer outside triggers which would lower it; the latter has always been fairly constant regardless of my mood cycles. For the most part this more of the same: my usual feelings and behavior, taken to a greater extreme. That's why it's so hard to draw the line between my dysthymia and major depression. But given that all these aspects have been worse than usual for a fair chunk of time now, my gut and best judgement says this is another major episode.
Not that knowing that changes much. I've been doing what I can to fight through it, and will continue to do so—attempting to get out and about, trying to engage myself in activities, and making accommodations for my inability to focus, sleep, and enjoy myself when those attempts don't work out. I'm not interested in medication or medical help. Mostly this tells me to be patient—with where my brain is right now and how it effects my mood and behavior; with the amount of time that it will take for this episode to pass (I can only guess at how long old episodes lasted and how long I've been in this one, but I think I have another few months of this ahead of me). It's part waiting game, part simple tolerance and acceptance of who I am.
Which isn't to say that I'm a peace with it. I haven't gone through a major depressive episode in some time now, and I was proud of that—it was justification of the life I live. I may be a housebound agoraphobe with limited real-world social contact, no commitments, no job, and nothing to contribute to the world, but I was stable and sometimes happy! That was an achievement. Knowing that things can still go sour makes me feel like I've been lying to myself—which I haven't, the life I live now really is a distinct improvement and it's the reason this episode isn't half as bad as it could be, but knowing that doesn't always make it feel true—and it makes me feel unsafe. The cocoon I've built is strong and soft and comfortable, but it can't protect me from myself as I hide here within it. I wish it were no longer a surprise to discover that I am my own greatest threat.
* I treasure the fact that I know people that understand how I feel, care for me, and wish me the best. Your support is always welcome! But despite my fears and guilts I'm actually not writing this to solicit such response. I'm writing it because it helps me to record my thought processes in paragraphs, because seeing my personal revelations written down helps me to accept them, and because I have a shitty memory and if I don't record things I will never be able to identify trends or remember timelines. I'm actually pretty much at peace with all of this—disappointed, shook up, but not desperate for coddling. Which isn't a cold shoulder; support is welcome, I'm just not hinting that I need it now.
I've been hesitant to consider this possibility because most of my episodes have been absolute hell on earth. I spent them either in school or in the process of dropping out, which meant that my depression was complicated by dozens of real-world influences that triggered comorbid anxiety and gave undeniable evidence to my mental health troubles. The problems I'm having now seem smaller because I've trimmed stresses and responsibilities from my life, so I'm not dealing with as much anxiety and there's no hard evidence (like missed classes or slipping grades) that I'm experiencing anything more than dysthymia. And of course I have a hard time trusting my own feelings—because part of me really does believe that I make it up, this complicated mess within my head, because I like to suffer, because I like sympathy*, because I don't want to interact with the real world.
Objectively, however, I am a walking checklist of major depressive episode criteria: I've been feeling consistently lower than my baseline for a number of months, my appetite has decreased and I'm having worse-than-usual problems with sleep, I'm having severe problems concentrating and I'm generally enjoy myself less, and I'm clumsier and more listless than my usual. The only things that hasn't changed is my sense of self-worth and thoughts of death—but the former is never high and these days there are fewer outside triggers which would lower it; the latter has always been fairly constant regardless of my mood cycles. For the most part this more of the same: my usual feelings and behavior, taken to a greater extreme. That's why it's so hard to draw the line between my dysthymia and major depression. But given that all these aspects have been worse than usual for a fair chunk of time now, my gut and best judgement says this is another major episode.
Not that knowing that changes much. I've been doing what I can to fight through it, and will continue to do so—attempting to get out and about, trying to engage myself in activities, and making accommodations for my inability to focus, sleep, and enjoy myself when those attempts don't work out. I'm not interested in medication or medical help. Mostly this tells me to be patient—with where my brain is right now and how it effects my mood and behavior; with the amount of time that it will take for this episode to pass (I can only guess at how long old episodes lasted and how long I've been in this one, but I think I have another few months of this ahead of me). It's part waiting game, part simple tolerance and acceptance of who I am.
Which isn't to say that I'm a peace with it. I haven't gone through a major depressive episode in some time now, and I was proud of that—it was justification of the life I live. I may be a housebound agoraphobe with limited real-world social contact, no commitments, no job, and nothing to contribute to the world, but I was stable and sometimes happy! That was an achievement. Knowing that things can still go sour makes me feel like I've been lying to myself—which I haven't, the life I live now really is a distinct improvement and it's the reason this episode isn't half as bad as it could be, but knowing that doesn't always make it feel true—and it makes me feel unsafe. The cocoon I've built is strong and soft and comfortable, but it can't protect me from myself as I hide here within it. I wish it were no longer a surprise to discover that I am my own greatest threat.
* I treasure the fact that I know people that understand how I feel, care for me, and wish me the best. Your support is always welcome! But despite my fears and guilts I'm actually not writing this to solicit such response. I'm writing it because it helps me to record my thought processes in paragraphs, because seeing my personal revelations written down helps me to accept them, and because I have a shitty memory and if I don't record things I will never be able to identify trends or remember timelines. I'm actually pretty much at peace with all of this—disappointed, shook up, but not desperate for coddling. Which isn't a cold shoulder; support is welcome, I'm just not hinting that I need it now.
