I know this isn’t a very sex post in the midst of all the orgasms and such around here. But I just wanted to pause life today and talk about depression and how I deal with it.
I’ve had feelings of depression ever since I was kid. I know a lot of people describe it as being empty or not caring about anything in life, but it isn’t like that for me. At least not all the time. Most of the time, it’s this feeling of impending doom, like there are no solutions to whatever the current problem might be, that there is no way out.
The current problem might be something serious, like a family member falling ill. Or it might be something silly, like ripping a hole in jeans. Sometimes, the “current problem” is me being overly worried about something that will happen in the future, like my cat dying someday. Often, the problem is me being anxious about some kind of social interaction.
Social interactions are the worst.
I get anxious at the thought of any situation where I don’t feel in control or could look foolish. For example, with few exceptions, I won’t walk into a place (a bar, a store, etc.) alone unless I have been there before and know exactly what to expect inside. I actually don’t like walking into a place alone at all. I feel like all eyes suddenly turn and look at me, even though that is completely irrational.
I also get anxious if I know I’m going to have to have a conversation with someone, but don’t feel prepared to answer their questions. For example, it took me over two weeks to work up the nerve to take my car to Jiffy Lube to get the oil changed because I knew they would ask car-related questions that I wouldn’t know how to answer. When that happens, I feel like the person is thinking, “Wow, what a complete dumbass!” even though I know that 99% of the time the other person is most likely not giving it a second thought.
Then thinking about my stupid anxiety over social interactions makes me depressed because I should be able to handle it better, yet I don’t see how to fix the problem. There is no solution. I should just stay in bed today.
I’m making myself sound worse than I am, though. I’m not some kind of shut-in who doesn’t enjoy life because she’s too scared or sad. In fact, the type of depression I deal with is manic, so I tend to have bursts of complete sadness but then bursts of joy. It can be exhausting. But it could be worse.
How I deal? Not very well, sometimes. Overtimes, extremely well. Whenever I feel overwhelmed and depressed, I try to remind myself that today’s problems are going to seem insignificant at some point in the future. Whether that is 10 minutes or 10 years, I will eventually look back and realize that the everything worked out, even if, right now, I can’t possibly see how that might happen.
I deal by allowing myself to be depressed when it hits me. I used to try to push through it and ignore the fact that I felt worthless and alone. But if I do that, it will eventually hit full force anyway and I’ll feel even worse about it. So instead, I allow myself time to feel bad. I acknowledge it. I don’t beat myself up for needing a day off from life, to myself.
I deal by writing. I don’t feel stupid when I write, like this, because I can go back and edit my words until it is just right. There’s no pressure. I have time to think. I don’t have to look you in the eye while you demand an answer from me.
I deal by clinging to happiness when it finds me again. I might spend one day in bed or one week in bed, but eventually, when something makes me smile again, I grasp to that thing like it is a life vest and I don’t stop paddling until I reach shore.
I deal by trying to learn more about myself when I have good days or weeks or even months. I write stuff like this to remind myself that depression is a big stinky lie and there will be a day when I feel better again. Because god knows, when I am wrapped in depression, I can’t always see that. I read what I’ve written in the past and I remind myself that even if I don’t believe it at this second, the more rational me does believe it. Deep down, I know that the darkness is going to fade.
I deal by not feeling guilty. One of the weird complexes I’ve had about depression is that I don’t feel “bad enough.” Like I am not allowed to call what I experience depression because I don’t want to commit suicide. In the past, I’ve been there, but now, even on my worst days, I have way too much to live for to ever think of taking my own life. And that makes me think, “Then what is wrong with you, calling this depression is a slap in the face to every who is really suffering.” I try to push those thoughts away and be okay with the fact that even though my condition could be a lot worse, it still sucks that I have to go through it at all. It’s like saying that because Joe has incurable lung cancer and Bob has a skin cancer that can be successfully cured, Bob can’t call his condition cancer because it’s not as serious. Cancer is cancer. Depression is depression.
I don’t know what the future holds for me in regards to my depression. I do know that I have an amazing support system, even in people who previously didn’t understand or even know what I was going through. So I have hope.
At least, I do today.
About Rori
Rori is the founder of Between My Sheets. She works full time as a writer, reviewer, and online educator and can be reached at rori-at-betweenmysheets.com
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