Depression is Ugly

Depression is the ugly beast that creeps up on me when I least expect it.  Last week I was relatively stable:  I did my yoga most days, I watched what I ate.  Then all of a sudden, about 36 hours ago, BAM:  it almost hurt to move and my anxiety was in overdrive.

I just returned from my psychiatrist appointment.  He reminded me that the small victory is what is important right now; I need to not take on too much activity.  I can’t compare the me of today to the me of 7 years ago.  I have to work from where I am right now.  He reminded me that my treatment over the last couple of weeks was, “like I was in the hospital, but not,” whatever that’s supposed to mean.  He reminded me that I wasn’t nearly as stable as I thought I was, last week.

He said we’re working with two different scales, so to speak:  there’s the long-term bipolar ups and downs, then there’s the daily ups and downs.  He wants me to do purposeful self-checks several times a day.

Here’s what I think of depression:

  • depression hurts physically.  Right now, my neck hurts for no good reason.
  • depression sucks the life out of me.  It draws me into the past, into the dark places I’d rather forget.

Speaking of being sucked into the past, an aside:  I don’t understand the PTSD diagnosis at all.  I mean, I know what causes PTSD and I know the factors from my past that led to my diagnosis.  But the symptoms are so unclear to me.  J says that my near-photographic memory, the fact that I not only remember vividly the scenes of my past but also the feelings I felt in the moment, could be a symptom of my PTSD.  Most days I tend to not think about it, but I know it’s there.

So, my small victory for the day:  I did one load of laundry.

 

 

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