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.