The last few days I haven’t really been feeling like myself. I’ve been kinda distant from those close to me. I haven’t really wanted to be around people – save for a select few. I haven’t wanted to do much of anything. I don’t know that I’d say I’m slipping into depression, but my mood has definitely taken a fall. I try not to let it show too much, but that’s not always an easy thing to do.
When my emotions drain me, honestly, all I want to do is be alone and sleep. But I can’t do that. There are things that have to be done and conversations that need to be had and a life that I need to live. The amount of energy that requires doesn’t seem like it would be much. And for someone not suffering from depression, it wouldn’t be. However, on the other end of the spectrum are those of us with depression, and it takes a whole lot more energy for us to do daily tasks. Sometimes we can’t even muster up the energy for the simplest daily tasks like getting out of bed.
That’s kind of what today feels like for me.
I know I’m gonna have to get up and function around the house soon, but then I’m probably gonna collapse somewhere with my book because I just can’t do it anymore.
These last few days while my brother’s still in school are the slow end of my alone time. I won’t be able to stay in my room till late morning. I won’t be able to do stuff spontaneously during the day if a friend is around and I have the energy. I won’t be able to have my own schedule during the day, I’ll have to hold one for him that changes on the hour. It’s not gonna be an easy summer for me, or for him, but that’s the way it has to be.
Backing away from the topic of my brother and the quickly-approaching summer days. I had other intentions for this post. But now I seem to have lost them, so I suppose I’ll come back to this later and continue when I’ve put my train of thought back on the tracks it was derailed from.
I can’t focus on anything productive because that would require exerting energy. Energy that I don’t really have. I mean, I’m aware of things that need to get done, but I just don’t feel like doing them. And there’s no way to escape doing things because then it’s just something else for my dad to use against me.
He’s never dealt with a mental illness himself, so he doesn’t understand what it’s like. He would see it as an excuse for me being lazy.
Later, yet again…
I have trouble opening up to people when it comes to my emotions, and it’s got to do with the stigma and the judgement that often comes with admitting that you have a mental illness, even if that peraon is in no position to judge you. There are people in my life who I can talk to about it, but I don’t as often as I probably should cause I feel like it’s not their place to help me because they didn’t sign up for this.
There’s only one person who will let me just go on and on, basically rambling, when things are bugging me. They’re the only person I feel comfortable letting all that stuff spill out in front of. They don’t judge me, ever, and they’ll do whatever they can to make the situation better. Even if that just means holding me and telling me it’s gonna be ok.
And I’m so thankful for them. They mean so much to me, and I really hope they know that.
Something else to be said…
Trying to get help for myself is pretty much impossible because of finances and fear of my dad’s judgement for it. Even therapy is a struggle because my dad doesn’t really think there’s anything to be gotten out of it, he thinks it’s a joke. But if he thinks that, then why does he have my brother seeing a therapist? I’ll never have an understanding of why my dad does/says what he does.
There’s a difference between what I would be taking medication for, and what my brother takes medication for. You can tell when my brother hasn’t taken his meds because the symptoms that they’re treating are physically apparent. Well, not really physically apparent, but it’s obvious in his behavior.
But if I took meds, he would probably expect to see a change immediately like you can with my brother’s meds, even though that’s not how it works with those kinds of medications. They take time to be in your system enough that you can tell if they’re working. And even then, you may have to find another medication because the one you’re currently taking gives you headaches that won’t go away or makes you feel like you’re detached from everything.
In my opinion, therapists are an even more difficult part of treatment to deal with. You have to find one you feel comfortable with. Sometimes you won’t know if you’re comfortable with that therapist until you’ve had two or three appointments with them. And opening up to them is never easy. You’re always afraid that they’re going to judge you for what you say even though you know that it’s their job not to do that. It still freaks you out.
I don’t know that I really want to take medications again. I don’t know that I want to see a therapist again. I thought I was doing pretty ok on my own. No one who knew I stopped taking meds and seeing a therapist ever said anything to me about it.
But looking back at what I’ve been dealing with, and thinking about where I am and where I want to go in life, maybe that’s what I need to do.
I really just don’t want to deal with all the same issues that I did before.
- The side effects from the medications.
- The daily remembering to take my medications.
- The constant appointments to see if things are getting better or not.
- The having to be so open/honest/raw with someone I don’t know.
- The therapy appointments where I have to uncomfortably sit and talk to, essentially, some stranger about how I’m feeling and listen to them give me advice on what I should be doing to change things.
All of that, honestly, just seems overwhelming and scary and not really something I want to jump back into. But I know that if I want to move on from the depression and anxiety, I need help. And not just the help I can get from friends to talk to and lean on. I’m gonna need actual medical help. I know it seems crazy for someone to say that they don’t really want the medical help, even though it’s available for them. It would be like someone with a heart disease saying that they would rather deal with everything on their own and refuse to take the medication that would make their life easier, and probably safer too.
The more I logically think about it, the more I realize that the help wouldn’t be a bad thing. It’s just something I’m not used to because I haven’t been taking medication or seeing a therapist for more than a year now. But going back to it would take some adjusting to again, just like anything new, or something you haven’t done in a long time.