Living with depression

According to the World Health Organisation (WHO): Depression is a common mental disorder that presents with depressed mood, loss of interest or pleasure, feelings of guilt or low self-worth, disturbed sleep or appetite, low energy, and poor concentration.

According to MedicineNet.com: [Depression is] An illness that involves the body, mood, and thoughts, that affects the way a person eats and sleeps, the way one feels about oneself, and the way one thinks about things. A depressive disorder is not the same as a passing blue mood. It is not a sign of personal weakness or a condition that can be wished away. People with a depressive disease cannot merely "pull themselves together" and get better. Without treatment, symptoms can last for weeks, months, or years. Appropriate treatment, however, can help most people with depression.

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I am now 38 and I've had episodes of major depression since my teens. Some of these episodes lasted for years at a time. I can't pinpoint when I had my first episode of depression. My childhood was turbulent and often very unhappy. My anxiety levels were high most of the time. I remember times, at primary school age, when I felt very bleak, despairing and often desperate. I remember many times wishing that I would die in my sleep, just so that I wouldn't have to face another day of my life. So I suppose my depression actually started long before I entered my teens.

In the end, it doesn't really matter when it started because it feels like depression has been my lifelong companion.

As I write this, I think I'm experiencing yet another down-turn. Writing about how I feel is a coping mechanism that I hope will help me to feel a little better. I am on medication and am in therapy. Both help me but right now, it feels like the black fog of depression is stronger than medication, therapy and my own determination to get better. I struggle to explain just how discouraging and demoralising that is. I'm employing all the weapons I currently have in my arsenal but the black fog rolls through them like they don't exist. I sometimes wonder how long I can fight this illness. Occasionally, I still find myself thinking that it would be best if I simply died in my sleep. At least then I would get real rest.

It feels to me like depression robs me of who I am and that makes me angry. This illness invaded my head and stole part of me. I don't think I was meant to go through life encased in this thick black fog, able to see the fuzzy outlines of happiness, peace and self-confidence but not able to reach out and grab what belongs to me. At the same time, the voice in my head tells me that I don't deserve those things anyway. They are not for me. For others, yes, but not for me.

Depression is tiring. People who've never suffered from depression, especially long-term major depression, have no idea how soul-destroyingly tiring it is to be depressed. You don't ever get a break from it. You can laugh on the outside and act as if everything is fine and for a little while, you can even feel that way. But it's always there, waiting to cloak you in bleakness and despair, even as you desperately count up all the ways in which you are fortunate - your job, home, family, friends, interests, pets. It doesn't matter how many times I read about the illness called depression. It doesn't feel like an illness. It feels like weakness, self-indulgence, self-pity. I tell myself, Snap out of it! But I don't snap out of it and so the guilt and sense of failure piles on.

At this moment, as I write this, I feel like a waste of time and space. I can't imagine how I contribute anything useful to this world. I'm tired of feeling depressed and anxious. I'm tired of my lack of confidence, my inability to concentrate at work, of feeling like I'm worthless and a lost cause. I'm tired of fighting all the damn time just to feel human.

A few thoughts on being an introvert

I am an introvert. I don't see that as a negative. I like being an introvert. I like living alone and being on my own. Solitude gives me a sense of peace and relaxation that I never feel when I'm with people. I alway feel like I have to make an effort when I'm in the company of others. It doesn't matter how well or how long I've known them.

Sometimes that makes me sad. I'd like to be able to spend time with someone and not feel like my energy is being drained. I used to have that with my best friend but in recent years our very different life choices has caused us to drift apart. The last time I wanted to spend time with her was maybe eight or nine months ago.

I often talk to my therapist about being introverted and craving solitude. One of my concerns is knowing the difference between wanting to be alone because that is simply who I am, and wanting to be alone because of other factors (like a lack of trust, fear of being hurt, and so on). It's possible my love of solitude is as a result of all of those factors. I want to be alone because I am an introvert and a loner but also because I've been hurt and betrayed too many times.

At first I retreated from everyone because I needed time to rest and recuperate from several very traumatic years. I'd always been comfortable on my own but I'd never before made such a conscious and concerted effort to be alone. Soon it became a normal way of life. I stopped making an effort to socialise and discovered that it was no big deal. I also discovered that the only times I truly felt content and relaxed were when I was alone. Being with people, even people I like or love, has a somewhat negative effect on my well-being. No matter how much I enjoy their company, I still feel eager to be on my own once again, relief at not having to talk or listen to anyone.

I don't discuss these feelings with anyone but my therapist because no one I know really understands. They try to but I feel that they harbour an underlying belief that my love of solitude is, in some sense, a symptom of a bigger problem. I don't want advice and tips on how to socialise or broaden my circle of friends. I did all those things and they didn't bring me much happiness.

I'm going to end this post here. Even writing these few short paragraphs have taken an emotional toll and I'm worried that I haven't expressed myself very well.

Rediscovering this blog

I'd forgotten I had this blog. Now that I've rediscovered it, I think I should put it to good use. I visit many websites every day and I realised recently that I don't feel a real sense of belonging to any of them. So I'm going to try to create my own little space online, where I can talk about the things that matter to me.

Thoughts on blog writing

Writing for a blog is a strange experience. On the one hand I feel like I’m writing for an audience of exactly one – me. But on the other hand there is the enticing possibility that my blog will attract someone’s attention and maybe, just maybe, that person will return after the initial visit. I’m a devotee of several blogs (that will soon be added to my blog roll) and I admit to being envious at their prolific content. Granted, those blogs have the advantage of having several writers, but still, a slight envy remains.

I’ve found that my problem is not so much a lack of ideas (I seem to have plenty of those) but rather one of writing a post that conveys those ideas in an organised coherent manner. I’ll write and write and in the end I find my way to the delete button because I’m convinced that I’ve written utter rubbish. Ultimately I stick with writing because I can’t seem to stop, no matter how bad I think my own writing may be.

I recently entered a short story into a national short story competition and even though I didn’t place in the top three, I received a call from the organisers to tell me they really enjoyed my story (and to check that I hadn’t plagiarised it – a compliment of sorts, I think) and that I should keep writing. I was enormously flattered but afterwards I felt deflated. Receiving praise from a total stranger didn’t make it any easier to crank out the next story. That story stills sits on my hard drive, unfinished and gathering electronic dust. Ah well, maybe its time hasn’t come yet.

So back to the blog.

I’ve asked myself many times what it is that I want to achieve with a blog. The answer changes depending on my mood and the kind of day I’ve had. Ultimately, if I had to pin down one answer it would be that I hope that a personal blog could allow me to exercise a creativity that is largely stifled in my everyday life and with the added bonus that I might encounter like-minded people in the blogosphere who share some of my thoughts and opinions. Or maybe I just want to talk about myself.

Hopefully reality will live up to my hopes and something readable will emerge.

Welcome Note

I started this blog for deeply personal reasons. I experienced a traumatic event earlier this year and one of the ways I kept my sanity in those days was to write about what happened and how I felt.

I uploaded those pages to this blog because I wanted to tell people what had happened but without having to reveal who I am. I suppose I was looking for some kind of acknowledgement, an affirmation of sorts.

After a couple of months had passed I realised I no longer wanted my story to be public so I removed all the posts. Now I sit with a bare blog. I have many ideas and will be writing and posting soon but I want to give careful thought about what I put in this blog. I would like for it to be more than a vanity project. I'd like to inform and enlighten or at least stimulate debate. If I can raise a smile or a laugh in the process I'll count myself fortunate.

So let's see...