Morning melancholy [long post]

Yesterday wasn't really as productive as I would've liked it to be, mostly because I was too much in pain to do anything significant. My headache put me to sleep during the afternoon so I snored there for a long portion of the day. :P

Jon had bought me some sinus medication while I was sleeping, so I took some and was pretty much weird and lightheaded most of the night. I was chatting to Kalli about all sorts of stuff and she actually thought I sounded "stoned". Haha. "Welcome to the world of drugs" she kept saying. Oh boy. ^^; I admit it was fun to be all giggly and elated while reading excerpts from Kalli's very awesome Tiv/Kssarh fic, but it was also disconcerting to have trouble focusing on things I was trying to work on. :/

Oh, not long before I went to bed, Eni left for the hospital. I talked to her a lot about the time I went for surgery (my thymectomy) to try to appease her. I think she was fairly calm, all things considered, by the time she left. So that made me feel good, at least. *hugs Eni from afar*

I took more sinus meds to go to bed, around 8 hours ago. But I woke up just before 8 am and couldn't get back to sleep at all. :( I've been up since... melancholy, I guess, just thinking about how difficult it is for me to be motivated, to get things done. The only responsibilities I'm able to handle are online ones, and even then not always consistently. (The DR Order stuff, fortunately, does not really take much of my time. Something I'm very happy about.)

If I were a normal person maybe I'd get more things cleaned up and put away, and I'd write down my responsibilities and get things done, and I'd be able to go outside every day. Instead I sit here inside, unable to make myself leave the apartment unless absolutely necessary, unable to care about making contact with anyone outside of written words. Part of me thinks "shouldn't I care? this is not how normal humans live." Another part of me thinks "why should I feel so inclined to be 'normal', isn't what's important my own happiness?"

Well that's the problem, I think, because I don't believe I'm really happy. I'm subsisting but I feel a distinct shame in how I live, and I wish that responsibilities didn't seem so intimidating and people in RL interested me more (see a few posts below). I think to myself, "okay, I'm going to try to make it better" but now I'm stuck with this sinus headache that makes me too weary to go out or exert myself in the sun. I have medication now but it just makes me feel fuzzy and weird, like I'm disconnected from everything.

And the worst part of it is that because I'm sick like this, it serves as a very convenient excuse for me to just sit here and do nothing. Like if I just stay here in my little shell I can pretend nothing is wrong, and I'm not getting too old to be this way. I'm probably just having a depressive bout and it'll go away, but right now I just feel like there's no way I can get better, because I can't even push myself to start again.

This makes me think of something I read on a friend's LJ recently. A person made a comment about "taking pills to feel better" and there was some derision about how pills can't just make it all better, and they'll just make you dependent on drugs to live. I remember I used to be afraid and disgusted at the idea of anti-depressants. I mean, they alter your reactions to things, doesn't that mean it's changing how you are in some subtle way? Isn't it "fake" recovery?

It used to anger me, too. But I think the problem is not in the medicine but in how people view how it is used. It's a misunderstanding, to me, to think that anti-depressants and other such medications are just supposed to "make you better". They aren't a cure -- in my opinion, they're more like a crutch. It's similar to the meds I used to take for myasthenia gravis: it relieves the symptoms but it does not relieve the disease.

What, then, is the cure? I ask this of myself often. I wish, when I meet people who have problems like me, who find life's troubles crushingly difficult to bear, that there was some tried and true method to make it all better. There really isn't. This is what I do know, though:

1) Recovery starts when you admit you have a problem.

I don't mean blaming yourself, but realizing that you may very well have an illness that affects your outlook on life, on yourself, your judgment in tense situations, your ability to deal with rejection or grief, and so on. This is always the hardest part, to accept that your mind could have -- without your direct prompting -- settled into thought patterns that are detrimental to your emotional health. It's basically admitting you can't always have conscious and rational control over your thoughts.

It used to scare me, and offend me, this label of "depression." I hated the stigma of being mentally ill. But there are millions of people in the world that have it, and how is it that all of their symptoms are similar to mine, can be categorized the same way? The truth is, it made me feel more free to realize I'm not alone in it, and that not everything was my fault for being "lazy" or "worthless".

The trick is to accept that you are ill, but NOT to use this illness as an excuse to avoid responsibilities about things. I don't view my acceptance of depression as a free pass to treat people badly when I have a bout of it, or to just happily and guiltlessly let other people take care of the chores and bills. For me, it's a work in progress -- my goal to be more autonomous never really leaves me. Sometimes it's harder to overcome, like now, but I'll get into that at a later point.

Anyway, once you can accept "yes, I am ill, and it's not my fault but something greater than I can easily handle" then one of the hardest hurdles in the way from getting better has been passed.

2) Then you have to admit you need help.

This one's also very difficult -- again partly because of the stigma of needing a "shrink", as if you're not "strong enough" to pick yourself back up without professional help. Also, even if you do admit you need help, sometimes it's hard to get due to insurance being too expensive (this is one thing I really dislike about U.S. health care, because there must be millions of mentally ill people who never get treated because they can't afford it. :/) so you have to settle for something non-professional. Or it may be preference; you're not ready for the idea of sitting and talking to a stranger about your problems. That's also fine.

There are other ways to get help, too. At the very least confiding in your loved ones more (those you trust), or maybe starting a therapeutic journal like mine, or trying to join a support group. Something where you can bring out in the open the feelings that lead you to feel extreme guilt, self-loathing, lack of motivation, irritability, social anxiety, phobias or whatever your symptoms may be. A lot of "self-therapy" involves introspection: trying to figure out why you feel what you feel, and do what you do, rather than passively feeling and doing them. When you understand what triggers you, what inspires those bad feelings, then you can start thinking of how to better avoid those triggers and rationalize those feelings.

Diet and exercise also help depression, in particular. The hard part about that is the fact that a lack of motivation can make it hard to even start improving your diet or start exercising. It's easy to get discouraged at the start, and fail to establish a regular regimen. But if you can manage it, it's a victory: you'll have more energy during the day, feel accomplished about yourself. It's like a natural high.

Again, admitting you need help is important, because other people who care about you can really help along the process of healing. Their encouragement and enthusiasm can be contagious. And when you falter, they can help you pick back up and try again, or at least sit with you while you recover your bearings. Having at least one person in your life who can help you in this way is definitely a therapeutic thing, whether it's a therapist or a friend.

However, you should also remember that those people have lives of their own, so cannot *always* be there for you every time you need it. You need to pull your own weight in the recovery process -- if you're just letting others push you to do it, the recovery just won't stick.

3) Expect that you won't always succeed, but...

Failure is something hard to deal with for depressed people, in particular. We tend to have a defeatist attitude when things go wrong -- better just to give up than keep trying, because the trying is too exhausting, too discouraging, too "hard". I have a REALLY hard time with this myself, because I have the impulse to blame myself too much, and at the extreme even find ways to "punish" myself for my ineptitude (e.g. my abusive fantasies; others may manifest it through self-injury or excessive drug use.)

The thing to remember here is that -- sure, things didn't go the way you wanted this time, but it's not the last chance you'll ever have. Like, for example, I may resolve myself to go out at least 3 days in the week. Maybe one week I'll fuck it up, and spend almost the entirety inside. And it's easy to say "you know what, I suck at this, I just can't do it" and continue that pattern indefinitely. But there ARE other weeks in the year that I could try again. And the fact I still thought about it, at least, that I realize it's necessary to try, is still progress in its own way.

Another thing I tend to do is compare myself to others' successes. Like Kalli getting her job, earlier. I think "you know, she's doing way better than me, and I can't even come close to that point." It feels hopeless, and I feel inept. But when I'm rational about it, I realize how hard it is for Kalli to do, too. I realize that she's pushed by a greater necessity than I am, since she doesn't have the financial options I do.

I also have to realize her outlook on life and self is different than me, so her progress will naturally be different, and at a different pace than mine. It may look easier for her, but I'm not her. Same goes for others I know who seem to "have it easier" -- maybe if I was them, it'd be easier for me too, but I have an entirely different set of hurdles to overcome. I, and others like me, have to be careful not to judge ourselves by standards that don't even apply to us.

What's even harder to avoid is feeling intense shame and guilt when others criticize you negatively. I'm always afraid people will come up to me and say I'm fat and lazy, that I take advantage of people's generosity, that I'm not even trying hard enough and my efforts are worthless. For me, this is all confirming feelings I already have, and the shame I feel in people pointing it out is *very* intense. At the worst, it can wipe out my motivation to do anything at all for days, even weeks.

One has to learn to separate constructive criticism with truly malicious criticism. The former is spoken by someone that cares about you, and wants to help you improve the quality of your life; the latter is spoken by heartless, insensitive assholes that want to get their jollies from making you feel bad. The former means accepting you can make mistakes at times, and that mistakes can be learned from; the latter is worthless and hateful, and should just be ignored.

The most important part, above all, is...

4) ...don't stop trying.

You'll have moments of weakness, but that's just part of the road there. The fact you've embarked at all on the journey to recovery is an achievement in and of itself!

And now that I've wrung out every bit of thought I could have on this topic for now, I'd better get to my exercises!

The good part: I feel better now after having written this all out. ^^;