I don’t really know how I can expect a change in society’s treatment of mental illness, which we so desperately need, when I can’t change how I treat my own mental illness. Everything I know to be true and will advocate for until successful on anyone else’s behalf, I am constantly berating myself for.
Even when I want to give myself that grace, I second guess it. Maybe it’s not the depression right this moment. Maybe I am being lazy. Maybe I just need to push myself harder and quit making excuses. And I won’t even get started on the running monologue in my head entirely devoted to whether I am really mentally ill or just using it as an excuse not to deal with life.
I have not felt this heavy a depression in a long time. I know that a lot of it is circumstantial. Of course I am going to feel depressed after being fired and having to jump through hoops I had to find in order to get my insurance straightened out, which as it turns out is STILL not straightened out. At least at this point it sounds to be a matter of logistics not whether or not there is coverage.
I would be so happy if just once something could just go right the first time.
Circumstantial or not, though, it is very tangibly present. As much as I will debate this ad nauseum in my head, and as much as I will beat myself up for being lazy, there is a very real difference between laziness and depression. Laziness is when you would rather lay around and do nothing productive all day. Depression is feeling like a worthless piece of sh&t because you are not capable of doing something productive. And growing increasingly miserable and frustrated. You would MUCH rather be productive.
Real world example from just now. I clicked on the paragraph to justify it, and actually paused and thought about the energy it was going to take to move my hand back to the keyboard and sort of mentally prepare. What the frittata?!?! But that’s what happens when depression gets bad. It actually affects your body. It feels like gravity suddenly developed a slightly stronger pull.
I am trying to be gentle with myself as best I can, but I am vulnerable and raw. I see the evidence that it isn’t all just in my head and it isn’t all something I can control by being better somehow. So, I’m taking the baby steps. I’m listening to music, sometimes inspirational sometimes cathartic; I’m praying more; I’ve got my own little art therapy diamond painting going on; I’ve even been spending more time with people, and oh, did I mention I started a blog?
I’m trying to reframe it as taking care of myself and not as being lazy and no good. It’s a work in progress.
I worked through the actual suicidal thoughts, not just the typical ideation. The reality is that my youngest daughter would blame herself if I did something to end my life. There is nothing I could say in a parting letter that would take that away. She would be tortured by that blame for the rest of her life. I refuse to do that to her. I will survive.
And while I think there is a lot of circumstantial causes to the way things are going, I know it doesn’t help that the health care system has made it such that I’ve been all over the place medication wise. I started a new medication that actually seemed to be helping and then after 2 or 3 months the insurance wouldn’t cover it (my doctor’s office is still trying to get that authorization).
Then Spravato, which I came to see just how much it had been helping when I wasn’t taking it anymore. That was a rocky start with insurance approval and lining up treatments and I finally got that worked out and now here we are again. Thought everything got straightened out this time when I was finally able to schedule treatment last week. Now I am finding out it is not straightened out, which I just know is going to end up interfering with treatment this week as well.
And with that I am done functioning for the moment. Chances are you will be hearing from me later.
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