Many of you who read this blog will be aware of the fact that I have had depression. You may also be aware that I came off medication a few months ago- I don’t know whether I wrote about it.
Coming off the happy pills – I do not know whether this is working for me at the moment.
Ironically, from a psychological point of view, I am doing well, better than ever.
I grab life with both hands. I fit a load in (probably part of the problem, but I am never bored). I exercise. I don’t drink too much alcohol. I have been going fairly easily on myself, congratulating myself on small things, talking nicely to myself. I have been therapied to within an inch of my life and goddang, I practice it. I give myself a good talking to, when I know what it is that addles me.
The problem is, too much of the time, it is not something that is amenable to talking myself out of.
A niggling feeling of foreboding, the feeling that something bad is going to happen to me or somebody I love. That I have nothing to look forward to (when I have heaps to look forward to). Ill at ease, anxious, looking over my shoulder, frightened, close to tears at minimal provocation, or crying for no reason at all. Irritable – a large act to just act normal. I feel slowed down, like walking through treacle. Tired easily, but not sleeping well and waking up early.
It is not a monkey on my black, nor a black dog nipping at my heels. It is far more amorphous.
One day like this. Days moving closer together. Then two days in a row.
I have been here before, only worse. I have no interest in going there again.
I had so wanted to stay well without need for medication. I tried (am trying) hard, worked hard at it. I get up when I just want to stay in bed. Went to aerobics, even though it did not have the same cheering effect as it usually does. Resisting the temptation to get back into bed, I do housework, go out to breakfast, read and watch comedy. I do not get the same enjoyment from it, nor do I laugh as easily. I get on with it, because I know at least I will not feel worse for it.
I will go back to the psychiatrist, tail between legs. I will talk to him about family planning and medication – part of the reason I came off tablets because I would like to have a baby within the next couple of years, but if I am depressed, no libido and probably no baby.
A part of me thinks I am giving in if I go back on the medication, but there are no prizes for feeling like turd. I want to feel good, because there is lots of good in my life.
I feel better for writing this, though a bit raw – thanks for reading.
P.S. I have put up my christmas tree. It is small and made of gold tinsel. All the trees and grass are brown anyway, at this time of year and who says christmas trees have to be green, hmm?