I’ve been absent for a while here in blog-ville. It’s partly because yes, I burnt myself out on writing and, to be honest, life in general. All summer, I kind of just… meh. I “meh”ed through the past several months of my life. Financial strain, [physical] health issues, yadda yadda yadda. I won’t bore you with those details.
The other part of the reason I’ve been MIA from the blog is, well, mental health.
My anxiety has been unbearable. My depression has been there, too, but not nearly as bad. Usually depression is my prevailing illness. It makes me apathetic, unmotivated, just kind of a living blob, sluggishly meandering through the motions expected of a functioning member of American society. Work. Eat. Sleep. Work. Eat. Sleep. Meh. Life. Blah.
I know depression. Depression and I are bros. I wake up in the morning and go, “Oh. Guess it’s gonna be one of those days. Fuck. Gotta go to work anyway. Blah.”
ANXIETY, though. Man. Shit. I knew I had anxiety, but it’s usually kind of a lesser thing. It’ll flare up for a little while and make me avoid grocery shopping for two weeks because I’m afraid I’ll forget where I parked, or because I’m afraid I’ll see someone I know and have to talk to them, or because I’m afraid I’ll have to talk to someone I DON’T know. What if I get in a car accident? What if my credit card gets denied? What if what if what if what if…
Lately, though, it’s been… more general. I wake up in the morning and before I’ve even had a single thought, I’m afraid. No reason. No overthinking. Nothing. It’s just there. It’s there it’s there it’s not going away it’ll never go away what is wrong with me why am I like this?!
It was so bad I had to leave work because of it one day. I was sitting at my desk, pulling a blanket around my shoulders because I thought maybe that would help me calm down. I couldn’t talk to anyone. My staff had questions for me and I had to try to act normal to answer them. Finally I had to leave, I couldn’t function anymore. My heart was racing. I cried the whole way home. This was the first time I ever, ever in my life, thought about self-harming, just because I. NEEDED. IT. TO. STOP. and maybe pain would overwhelm it, or release it somehow. I didn’t, because once I cried a lot and got home and lay down with my pets, it abated some, but I finally understood the drive to self harm.
It was so bad I couldn’t go to my friend’s wedding because I didn’t know what to wear, I didn’t know who would be there, I didn’t know where it was, I didn’t know what would happen, I couldn’t drive that far, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t stop shaking, I had five sobbing emotional breakdowns before noon, I was eventually driven to drinking because I just wanted it to knock me out, calm me down, something, please, make it stop, please.
About two weeks ago, I saw a doctor and got on medication. I was told “you might not notice a change immediately. After about two weeks, other people will probably notice you’re acting different. After a month, you’ll probably realize you’re feeling better. After six weeks, you’ll feel great.”
Either there’s some placebo effect going on and I just feel better because I know I’m on meds, or my doctor seriously underestimated how aware I am of my own mental state, because I’ve noticed a change already. I feel more hopeful, less scared. I have motivation to do things. I cleaned my house this weekend for the first time in, hell, probably six months, and wasn’t annoyed or frustrated about it. I’m writing again, and feeling kind of excited about it. Even though things are fucking terrible in the world, it’s not getting to me as much as it has been lately.
It’s strange to notice these things. Logically, I know that anxiety and depression are just brain chemistry issues, but they’re me. They’re mine. It’s odd to feel better and know it’s not me. You can relate it to having a cold and taking Dayquil or something, and you know the cold is still there but the meds are suppressing it. It still feels different when it’s a mental health issue, though. A cold is physical symptoms–you take meds and notice you’re not as sniffly, your throat isn’t as sore, your muscles don’t ache. Anxiety and depression are mental symptoms. You take meds and realize your entire mindset changes. Your motivation changes. Your attitude towards situations and people change.
I will say this: I was on medication a few years ago (Zoloft) and I hated it. It did help, but it affected my creativity and eventually I ended up feeling like Not Myself. I felt better but it was artificial, like it forced my brain to change my behavior without changing my core feelings. I couldn’t write, so I was less clinically depressed but ended up being situationally depressed (or whatever the medical term is for that) because I knew I wasn’t doing the things that I normally like to do, and couldn’t make myself do them, and it was very frustrating.
I told my new doctor about this and she said she hates Zoloft and the one she prescribed me is much better, so we shall see.
The point of this post, I suppose, is to continue my attempts at being open about mental health issues, trying to crush the stigma surrounding them. I also want to say, don’t let anti-medication people get to you. I posted on Facebook when I got medication and a family member immediately tried to tell me that medication is bad. Why? Yes, I understand, it messes with your brain chemistry, and there are horror stories about “feeling like a zombie,” etc etc etc, but it’s the same as any other medication. Just like mental illness is the same as any other illness. You wouldn’t let your diabetes go untreated, would you? Why treat your mental health any different than you would your physical health? Yes, I know my sudden motivation and positivity is chemically induced. So what? If I need treatment in order to keep my sickness at bay, I will take the treatment. I want to feel better. There’s no shame in taking medication to achieve that.
Pay attention to your moods. I didn’t realize how far I’d slipped until I’d already gotten really, really bad. It sort of becomes the norm, the longer it goes on, but it shouldn’t be. If you realize things have been getting bad, seek help. You’re not weak for it.
Hopefully medication will also help me get back on track with blogging and writing. Fingers crossed you’ll see more of me here again soon!