Sometimes the worst thing to ask a depressed person is to talk about their feelings. Its why when people ask me how I’m doing most of the time I answer with “Fine”. Finding the words to express what’s going on my head is difficult, approaching impossible. But I feel like if I don’t try I’m really going to go off the deep end so here goes.
I think I’ve about finished with the annual holiday suicide contemplation, so there’s that. Asking what brings that on I think is the wrong question. Suicidal thoughts are a little like cancer, once you’ve had it it never really goes away, just goes into remission. So I’m hoping that little hump is over with. It’s tough though, when everything continues to be so overwhelming.
Let’s start with talking to people, since that’s a big one for me. Most of the time I feel like I don’t have anything interesting or helpful to say, and in the cloud of weird blandness the world has sunken into everything coming out of other people’s mouths seems not to matter so much. So I’m not the best conversationalist, mostly just nodding and trying to smile at appropriate intervals. My complete inability to articulate myself in spoken conversations is somewhat maddening.
Its been a little over a year since I was hospitalized, and I honestly don’t feel like I’ve made a whole lot of progress. Sure, I’m not as miserable and out of control as I was back then, but I’m not happy either. Everyday life still seems so difficult that its hard to haul myself out of bed and do normal-ass hygiene things. I still find myself staring straight through my computer screen, the movie on it might as well be a screensaver for how much attention I pay it. Life still seems like an endless stretch of grey days with ultimately no meaning. I’m not really sure how to break out of this.
Going to therapy is not really helping, because I try so hard to focus on the positive and convince myself and my therapist that I’m doing better I don’t talk about the stuff that’s really bothering me. And half the time I don’t even realize that’s what I’m doing, because I can’t even articulate what’s bothering me to myself. I’m on medication, but I feel like that’s just keeping me right on the edge of losing it.
The problem with being the middle of a depression is you forget what hope felt like. Its just this foreign thing that must have been fake when you felt it before. Faking it seems to be the name of the game for me right now, faking excitement, productivity, empathy or really any emotion at all. I don’t think “bland greyness” counts as an emotion. Complete and utter apathy seems to have taken over my existence.
Through it all though, at least I have my reasonable mind. I know, for example, that if I work at life and keep clawing my way through the meaningless days that one of them will eventually start to have meaning again. I know from experience that this doesn’t last forever, so that’s what I’m hanging on to for now.