The Clinical Kind

I've avoided discussion about this for a long time, because it embarrasses me and makes me feel pathetic. But I feel like it's good for me to write/talk about.

When I was a little girl my mom spent a good length of time not able to get out of her bed. She just couldn't find it in her to do so. She finally went to the doctor and he told her that she had depression. She told him that she didn't feel sad and he replied that it doesn't always manifest itself as sadness. Following this incident was a long string of pills. I can also vividly remember going into my parent's bathroom while in elementary school and there was a magnet on the mirror that said "get happy" on it. Once I asked my parents what it was for, and it was to remind my dad to take his Prozac. Jacob has taken depression medication as well as having a long stint in counseling, and while Jason has not had any issues with depression he has been medicated for ADD/ADHD (I don't know which) and gone through counseling for anger management. My family has a long relationship in the psychiatric department.

In high school I fell into a type of depression. I was really stressed out and on edge. My mom would tell me that it wasn't normal to collapse on the floor in hysterical crying, but it was completely normal to me. I felt bad because I would make it through the day, come home and need to not think. And Jacob would be there asking me to play with him and I would get mad because I just couldn't. I was never once suicidal, but even when I was in elementary school I would ponder who would care if I died, who would cry, who would go to the funeral. Apparently I threatened suicide when my mom said that we were moving. But I know that I was never actually suicidal. One day my mom pointed to my leg as I bounced it up and down and casually asked "did you know that that is a sign of depression?". I lost it. I remember talking to Sam about how I was feeling and she said that there were alternatives to pills- like exercise. Obviously that never happened.

Then I finished high school. I slipped into a state of numbness. I didn't feel anything. I started Oxnard College and dropped out. I was too upset to go. I remember sitting on the couch in my pajamas all day doing nothing. Sam bought me flowers. I finally got a job. I did fine at first until I started to have anxiety attacks on the bus to work every day. I really slipped into a state of depression. I did nothing. I went to work, I came home, I watched TV and I did it all over again the next day. I didn't think, I didn't make plans, I moped. I couldn't handle it anymore so I quit. I got into BYU, I got a job at Old Navy, I came out of it.

I was fine for a long time. I'd get sad, but I never got like I had used to be. I finished my freshman semester and that summer and the next school year and summer without any real major problems. Then last year I fell into it again from October to April. Having such a great and uplifting summer really took me out of it again for the most part. Every once in awhile I would freak out because the Creamery was closed when I needed chocolate. But I managed.

I feel like it's back. I feel like I live my life in this world where there's a dark haze circling me that usually keeps at bay, and every once in awhile something will set it off and I become enveloped in this dark, depressing world. Some days I am completely happy. Some days I find myself walking into the kitchen realize that the dishes need to be done, and start to unload and load the dishwasher as I cry. Other days I hover in between these states. Most of the time I'm in the hovering state unless something really sets it off- a hurtful text, a snide or snappy remark, plans not working out the way I had hoped, dishes. And then I slip into the dark place and find that I can't do anything- I can't read, study, focus, do homework, clean. All I can do is cry, eat chocolate, mope, surf the internet, play Mahjong and watch movies. And some days I can barely find it in me to get out of bed. I know this is weird but I often feel like in my mind I have this mental disease and I find myself crying out "what is wrong with me?!?!!?".

Here's the thing: depression is real and I have it. It's not just the typical case of I'm-having-a-bad-day. It's an ongoing process. It feels (to me) like every day you're on a precipice and the slightest wind will blow you over the edge. It's always there and sometimes you get lucky and sometimes you don't. I don't take medication for it but I've thought about it. I'm personally worried that if I take it somehow I'll always think that I won't be happy without it. But it's a disease, and if you had cancer you would take medication for it. I tell myself that my medication is chocolate, dancing, French music and talking to Marie. Sometimes they work, and sometimes they don't. I've thought about counseling but I've had a couple of not-so-great experiences with it. The upside (for me) is that I am currently recognizing the struggle and exploring my feelings about it. Seeing the reality of the situation and trying not to succumb to the hazy dark feeling lets me know that I struggle with depression but I am not currently a victim to it like I was last year or in high school. Struggling with it shows me that I need to be careful so I don't fall to it again. I fight. I push it away. But it's hard. And I feel like a lot of the things on my blog tend to be negative, especially recently. And I feel bad about it. But I feel like when I'm in the throws of my depression stages that's what happens. The good doesn't get focused on, especially because when the good is happening I'm trying to hold it in before it goes away.