So yeah. My blog's been abandoned for like, over three years. Where the fuck have I been, my loyal readership of zero? Have I been eaten by dingos? Was I abducted by aliens? Have I even - GASP - gotten a life? Fear not, my nonexistant fans, for both the dingos and aliens are safe from me for now. I just happened to be mentally ill.
After finally remembering ye olde passworde for this little slice of the blogosphere, I first looked back to the last post (in 2010) about real life issues, and immediately cringe. Not only was this post all about me neglecting my internet persona, it also has this funny aneurysm moment right there:
...To be honest, I'm not surprised I left this blog unguarded, so to speak. But I am quite shocked that in the last twelve months, I haven't been able to write more than one blog post, and about a dozen half-assed attempts still rotting in my blog post buffer. No fanfiction. No programming project (for fun, I mean). No short story. No nothing.Euuurgh. This has "warning signs" all friggin' over it. Buuut, I managed to get through 2010. And I kind of survived 2011. Then came 2012, and I simply keeled over one day. Have A Nervous Breakdown, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Receive 200 Bucks.
Which is strange, because: I really like writing. I do. It's my creative outlet. More importantly, it's my source of stress relief. And I really could use that at the moment...
My work had been stressful from the beginning, but I had always shrugged it off with "well, it IS a highly-paid job", so I tried to be a good trooper and march on. Because I did not want to be weak. And "everyone else" seemed to go with it too, so why should I be different? Even as my doc told me my symptoms do sound like a depressive episode, I refused to listen, because, why do you tell me that, I only have these neck pains, and could I get some more prescriptions for massages and pain pills, pretty please? And soldiered on for another three months, wenn suddenly one morning, I simply could not get out of bed anymore. So when I've finally mustered enough strength to get to our family doctor, he gave me a "told-you-so"-speech that barely even registered with me, because I didn't even feel anything anymore. Just fix me, Doc, I wanted to say. He prescribed me nice little Anti Depressants, and because he is a good doctor, he made sure two things made a dent in my mind: 1) Make sure someone watches you in the next days, and 2) Those things will actually feel WORSE before it gets better. And BOY, was that second part true.
Back then, I was going around like a Zombie. No real emotions but an overwhelming sadness would register, I'd just feel numb all the time. Until those Happy Pills kicked in. Let's just imagine, for a moment, all your emotions you feel over a year. Happiness, Frustration, Anger, Fear, Sadness. Now, let's compress those feelings into a neat little air balloon, waiting to burst. See, the thing with those Happy Pills is, they don't actually make you feel happy. They just prick the bubble, so you can't distance you from all those pesky emotions, like you did before. Now, imagine your very personal emotional Rollercoaster from Hell.
After a few weeks, the rollercoaster was kind of managable, and I could get back to work. And yeah, getting back was hella uncomfortable and awkward. I mean, do YOU want to tell everyone at your workplace that you basically ticked out? That you wept for hours, without an end, for no reason at all? That you could simply not do the simplest things, like picking up an used hanky from the floor? That I had to force myself to eat once a day? Hell, I've lived through that and and I still have a hard time believing it.
So, why am I writing this now, when this episode was back in 2012? Because the damn black dog is back with a vengeance. I did not only manage to work myself into a depressive episode, I managed to be one of those who get chronical dysthymia. Hooray. Currently, I'm in the midst of what is called a "moderate episode", which means roughly:
- I have good and bad days.
- On Good Days, I can get out of bed.
- On Bad Days, I just want to sleep. All day. Every day.
- On Good Days, I shower, get dressed, and have breakfast.
- On Bad Days, I could not care less wheather I'm in my jimmies all day.
- On Good Days, I make the housework.
- On Bad Days, I beat myself up because I won't do the housework.
- On Good Days, I am an actually decent person who happens to have depression.
- On Bad Days, I believe I am a fraud and the worst person who ever lived.
- On Good Days, I can actually think rationally.
- On Bad Days, I can't even read a single paragraph in a newspaper.
- On Good Days, I am thankful that depression can be treated.
- On Bad Days, I curse the medication and believe the pills make things even worse.
