Because my schedule is wide open and Dr. Li is so nice, I always let him tell me what time works best for him to do my treatment. Today it was 9am, as it has been more often than not. Because my sleep schedule has changed quite a bit, I'm usually up by 7:00, so the earlier treatments don't bother me in terms of wake up time. What I hate is that the early times mean long days to fill afterwards.
Today was Boredom Thursday. It's too early to pack, I'm too broke to shop or do other paid adventures, it's too cold for the free stuff, and I'm tired of beading and reading. I took care of a few work things, researched more writing opportunities, and watched Bonanza. I took a nap, snapped at my boyfriend and ate Little Debbies. And I still had about twelve hours to kill.
I received a few encouraging calls, reminding me I have cheerleaders across the country. I checked my mail five times, and the mailman finally arrived. I changed my address with the staffing company that set up my catering gigs, so the W-2 will go to the right place. I had my first "I wish I was dead" thoughts I've had in weeks, and I pondered the meaning of that. I decided that it was probably just an old habit that resurfaced easily with a little grumpiness. And I still had eight hours left to burn.
I decided to write my words of wisdom for people with depression. They are this:
I keep thinking about my "before" life. I felt obligated to pretend like everything was fine so no one would have to be made uncomfortable by my issues. I resented it. I felt like every relationship I had was conditional and no one would love the real me.
While I still think that people should be able to share emotions and be loved unconditionally, I'm starting to think more and more that I handled it in the best way I could. No, I didn't want to be fake, but I had enough hope to think that eventually life would be something I wanted. If I thought there would be happiness eventually, I had to pave the way. That meant going to class or work when I wanted to lay in bed. It meant going to a friend's party when I wanted to stay home. It meant staying home when I knew that showing up at the party would simply bring everyone down and make everything about me. There were lots of choices to be made and balances to be created. I know I didn't handle it perfectly, but I'm glad I didn't go around telling everyone how miserable I was. While good friends want to help, after a while misery starts to spread.
My boss once said to me, "depression is a selfish disease". Initially, I was shocked and offended. As I thought about it, though, I realized it made sense. When I was in my darkest places, all I could think about was me. I could be at a funeral full of grieving people and think, "At least they have something to heal from. I'm just miserable and I don't even really know why." My need to sleep or hide was more important than anyone else's needs.
It's hard not to be fully consumed by depression. It feels like there are no choices. You don't want to be unhappy or sleep sixteen hours a day, you just can't help it. The best advice I can offer for anyone living with depression is to remember that there are still choices. Most of those choices are much harder for you to make than for other people, but they're there.
Some of my LEAST favorite things to hear during depressed episodes were: "Just get over it", "Lots of people have it worse," "Can't you decide to be happy?" or "What have you got to be upset about?" I don't ever want to say those things to anyone else. There is no magic cure or quick way to "snap out of it". I do want to remind everyone that little decisions can make a difference. For me, it was deciding to shower when I wanted to stay in bed, which then led to me going to work. I didn't make the HUGE decision to go to work and be productive, I just made the small decision to shower and that first step gained momentum. I didn't just decide to be happy, but I did decide to go out with friends when I wanted to stay in, which led to at least a few moments of happiness. Plenty of times, the choice was hard enough that I went the other direction. Still, I'm glad for all the times I tried. I'm glad I lived by the old addage, "fake it 'til you make it". Everyone should be able to be real, but that doesn't have to mean we give up trying.
I didn't want to go to school or work most days, but I was at least able to see that avoiding them would only make my situation worse. School especially seemed optional, but that flicker of hope that one day things would be better and I would be glad for the time I stuck to it to help make the situation better made me hang on.
So that's it. Hang on. Keep trying. Have hope. Be accountable and take personal responsibility. I feel like rTMS has helped me over the hump, but the work I did until I got here kept me on the hump at all.
While writing this, I paused to check facebook, got bumped off the internet three times while trying to answer email, watched M*A*S*H, watered my flowers, and listened to some music. Now I only have about four hours to blow. I think I'll call my boyfriend and apologize for the grumpiness.
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