Photo by Marten Bjork on Unsplash
Choosing not to live with depression is, for me, choosing suicide.
Because of my family history, I see that I either learn to face depression and live with it, or check out. And my one instance of contemplating checking out occurred almost 50 years ago. Since then, I have understood that I am more afraid of death than I am of living with depression.
One thing I am realizing is that the opposite of living with depression is really not living at all.
I can fool myself into thinking that I no longer have depression. Because I have learned so much in the past 5 years, I must be depression free. Yet I know that is not true. And depression and I have been and will continue to be connected to each other.
After my four days in 5 North, all I wanted to do was understand my depression so that I could be rid of it.
Living without depression has been my mantra off and on for over five years. I know I say I want to lead a balanced life with depression. Yet what I secretly hope for is to be depression free. So, I check off the boxes that show I am free from depression and once again, begin to walk away, without looking back.
For months now, I have only been feeling OK.
Not bad, not sad, not happy, not mad. It sounds like a Doctor Suess book title. Yet I am just OK. My Peer advocate at On Our Own suggests I call and make an appointment with my psychiatrist who is managing my medication. Even my talk therapist is suggesting restarting my use of the winter SAD lamp. But so far, I have not found it important to do either suggestion.
I know that with my family history, being depression free is not possible.
But I can manage it and minimize its effects. I have tools that give me updates on my current relationship with depression. Plus, I have a WRAP plan, the change triangle, and a host of other tools. I have taken SMART Recovery courses and achieved a certification through them. So, I am learning quite a bit about depression and my relationship with it.
I don’t want to go in circles, debating options in my head.
My life is my life. I see that there are times when depression was front and center in my life. It tossed out suggestions until something stuck. And then it waited until I took the idea as my own. It was then my depression would invoke the secrecy clause, and I would begin to see everyone but depression as the enemy. I was to avoid talking with anyone because it would make depression mad.
I could proceed without feeling guilty by sharing just enough of the plan.
Afterall, I had told someone I was going to, for instance, retire early. Yes, that meant throwing out 50 years of planning. And yes, it has made my current situation less liquid and less clear. But I had told people about it in advance. And no one said anything that changed my mind. Even if they had, my depression was there to make sure I followed its strategy. And that worked right up until it didn’t.
When the check came, my depression had gone on vacation, and I was left alone to clean up the aftermath of my decision.
Of course, I shouldn’t have expected anything else from my depression. Time and time again, it has done exactly the same thing. My depression would drop hints until I grabbed on to one. Then it would wait patiently until its idea became my idea. Then it would encourage me to become secretive. Once I was totally on board, it would suggest I implement whatever plan it had laid out for me.
And then, surprise, surprise, at the end of each adventure, my depression would always leave me alone.
So, living with depression is tough. It is challenging in ways I would have never thought of on my own. And my depression is always with me. Sometimes it is front and center, getting me to call the shots. While at other times, it is waiting in the wings for the perfect opportunity to get involved.
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