Depressive episodes can be a common reality in many people, and I think that due to the fact there are so many people who deal with them, sharing my experiences with them can help those who haven’t dealt with them for the same amount of time I have. To be more specific, I’m talking about a “shutting down” period I experience from time to time. There doesn’t need to be a particular reason for it to come up, however, what I do know is that it can last for a few days to a few weeks, and I have to stick through it. What is most significant is that I have been able to control how I react to these depressions, and there have been times when it ended quicker than usual as a result of my actions, but similarly, lasted longer than necessary just for the same reason. I want to share a little context on what this actually is to me, what I’ve done that has not helped, what I have done that has helped, and maybe some other suggestions if what I shared wasn’t exactly applicable to your situation. This is more like a series of depressed writings over many days, of which may or may not be helpful. You have been warned.
This isn’t a case of bipolar disorder, at least I don’t think it is. These momentary depressive lows can be caused by external things, but they just as easily can be seemingly random. Recently, I would call it random; it wasn’t caused by anything in particular. However, how I reacted to it, was generally how I handled such things in the distant past, rather than how I would in the recent past. Basically, I’m stuck in a depressive mindset where I genuinely forget why I care about anything, and I lose almost all urgency. I go from someone who wants to strive for more, to do more, into someone would doesn’t care about anything, and questions why they bothered to come so far in the first place. I no longer put effort into the world around me, and I become mentally clouded. The clarity I would feel when thinking about what I want is lost, and I’m stuck in a fog that attempts to mimic what clarity actually feels like.
How I handled this recent depressive low, which lasted for about two weeks, was how I would handle such lows in the distant past, but with more variables at play. Basically, I would stop talking to people, distance myself from the people in my life, and brood over my own person. I would be upset at how things were looking, and I would think that it would be impossible for things to get better. When in that mode, at least this time, I forgot that these depressive lows actually end. This is the most notable quality; that there is a beginning and ending to all things, and these short-lived depressions aren’t an exception. In the midst of the depression, I thought it would last forever, and because of that dread, I didn’t want to push on or prepare for the ending. Instead, I allowed myself to get further into the depression, and focused more time and energy on it, rather than the escape of it, which only worsened my condition.
I didn’t really do anything during the period. As in, I wasn’t writing, nor trying to push in any way. I did read, but that was slow, and things didn’t exactly move forward all that much. Nor did I care this was the case, because I lost all care in the things I once thought were important. Alcohol then introduced itself, a thing that definitely can be fun and okay in moderation, was not helping. On some occasions, it helped me sleep, which was good enough, because I most definitely would prefer being asleep rather than awake while in these states. When I reached an especially deep low, I drank a lot, and then I continued drinking, despite knowing it wasn’t helping me. This reached a maximum when I spent a lot of time, well, in a very bad state, and that obviously did me no good. I wanted to escape whatever it was that I was feeling, but it was exactly that, feeling, which led me to being in such a state.
What I mean to say is that it was the lack of feeling that really locked me in. If I had listened to myself, allowed myself to feel, and tried understanding myself, or focusing on myself, just a little bit more, I wouldn’t have reached that all-time low. Yes, in the end, drinking allowed me to feel, but it was in the most extreme, and it was all at once, and that just wasn’t necessary. I could have felt things through bit-by-bit, rather than in one large splurge, because not only did it affect me, it also affected the people around me.
After drinking a lot, I was then the person I was so diligently attempting to suppress. Indeed, I was doing a great job of suppression, but in that, I was also causing myself so much pain. I felt numb, and I told myself I felt numb, and that there was no reason for this, yet the person in me that needs to feel could not, or so I thought. That part of me was still feeling, and hurting, and I was ignoring that person; not acknowledging their cries for help, and then by drinking a large amount, that person came out of me, and felt, and if I had cared for that person a little more, things wouldn’t have gotten so bad.
That’s not how things played out, and even after all that, I was still in a low, and had to deal with a terrible hangover, and I slept large amounts the following two days. I was then back at work, with my brain turned off, and when I would get home, I would sleep even more. I slept on-and-on, not wanting to do anything, and who could blame me? I thought the depression would never end, and that there was no point in doing anything, so of course I would then not do anything. Eventually, this did end, once the week ended, and I attempted to recover during the weekend. I tried to create momentum for myself for enduring the next week, which worked, and I also had some fun, and allowed myself to smile and laugh for once.
If it wasn’t entirely clear, despite restating it many times, the problem with what I did was that I forgot that the depression would end. I’m someone who is supposed to be recognizing as many patterns as possible, but it seemed like I lost that skill once in the depression, because I genuinely thought those feelings, or lack thereof, were going to last forever. I then focused on the depression, became more and more of the depression, and allowed another part of myself to take over; the tyrant; the ruler; who suppresses all feelings, and acts like the child within me that so desperately wants to feel does not exist.
As to be expected, the exact opposite would then actually help me. By staying aware that such feelings would end, I felt more okay, and I could end the depressive low better and more intelligently. I usually did this through meditation and spending time thinking about the fact that all things begin and end before the depressive low actually happened. It was quite a while ago at this point, but things were actually becoming quite good. I was helping myself, digging into myself, and acknowledging parts of myself that I otherwise would ignore. Once again, it was mostly through meditation, and it really helped, but unfortunately, it did not last. I began working full-time again, and I basically stopped all of these things. I went from meditating every day to never, and I went from digging into my mind to suppressing my feelings again.
I’ve been through many different lows during this period, and not all have been equal. Earlier on, I was experiencing them, but in much shorter periods of time. The longer I went without actually reminding myself of anything positive, or trying to give myself attention, the more common the depressive lows became, and they also began to last longer. You would think that by being obsessed with things like cycles that I would hold onto the awareness that even the feelings I experience while depressed will end, but no, I seemingly forgot, was no longer in touch with that anymore, or the depressed-self intentionally suppressed those thoughts.
Perhaps I wouldn’t want to admit it, but it’s also important to acknowledge that I’ve been spending the majority of my time doing things I don’t want to do, going to a place I don’t want to be, and generally spending the majority of my waking hours doing things I’d rather not do. As would be imagined, for anyone, they wouldn’t be all that happy with this arrangement. Believe it or not, I haven’t been happy with it either, and I’ve attempted a variety of methods for escapism, and they sort of work, and I’ve talked about some of the methods I use to deal with work already. Yes, I’ve been able to make work “less miserable” but that only does so much. The work might be okay, but if I don’t feel okay, it doesn’t matter how okay the work is.
The methods to feeling okay haven’t been ideal either. While not interested in getting into the particular details, substances, of any kind, shouldn’t be used to deal with your problems. Despite having the awareness this is the case; I was still acting in a way that was antagonistic to that. What exactly I was doing, I shouldn’t speak of here, but the point is, it didn’t help in the long-term. While it did help in the short-term, it came with a cost, and it wasn’t simply monetary. I was acting as if there would be no long-term downsides to my actions, and that I would be fine as long as I could take what I needed, because then I could get by during the day. Maybe it genuinely did help, but you reach a point where you realize you have to stop what you’re doing before it progresses into something worse, and I wanted to avoid that.
Substances were a part of my life even when things were good, and they only played into the belief that they were something that was good, and I should continue doing them. If things were bad, then I might consider why that is, and then try to change things. Having drugs in my life was something that was always going to be considered problematic, but it was simply a matter of when and at what point. The only reason I disposed of all my substances was because of a dream, and in the midst of my disposal, I was acting in a pretty reactionary way. If I hadn’t acted in such a way, I would still be a part of that world, still doing those things, and acting in that way. Would that be better? Part of me says that it would, because many of those things actually helped me. The other part of me says that it wouldn’t, and that it would actually only be causing me harm, and I’d be forced to stop or things would only get exceedingly worse. These sides clash, and I don’t find it unlikely that a relapse will occur, but it’s a case of whether or not things will get out of hand this time around.
Whichever side is more right or accurate, the point is, things did stop, because I reached a point that even both sides acknowledged was too much. I was, even in both minds, clearly abusing substances, and thus myself, and if I wanted to heal, I couldn’t act in such a reckless and harmful way. I clearly showcased to myself that I couldn’t be trusted to maintain control when in such a mindset, and it would have to be changed forcefully. So once out of that extreme low, I had my moment of highness, then I had gotten rid of the drugs, and now I’m back in a low depression. Yes, I might have the awareness that this is going to end, but I have no tool or means of getting myself out of it. I’m perpetually in a state of constant fatigue. I might want to get out, I might have things I want to do, but I don’t have the power like I once did, and now I have to deal with that.
Fatigue is something that has been a constant in my life. It’s hard to remember a time in my life where I wasn’t in a state of being dreadfully tired. No matter how much or how little sleep I get, I’m still tired, and I can’t ever feel like I have energy. It’s terrible, and I wish the constant fatigue would go away, but it never does. It doesn’t matter what mental gymnastics I do, what physical work I do, how much sleep I get, my diet, and on and on, these things have never changed the feeling of fatigue. The tiredness is only exemplified and pushed to the extreme while depressed. It’s as if I’m no longer just tired, but so extremely tired that it is oppressive to be in a state of wakefulness. Like I must genuinely sleep forever in order to receive any recovery.
As you might imagine, while in such a state, even if you are aware that the depressive feelings will end, you are aware that the tiredness you feel will not end. You haven’t been in a state of feeling energized, or simply neutral, for as long as you can remember. Now suppose you find something that alleviates this issue, and actually gives you the energy you need, but then you cut that out of your life. What do you suppose will happen, then? Obviously, now you know what it feels like to be a normal human being; to have some amount of energy, but it’s been cut out, and you no longer can have that anymore, because you couldn’t maintain a simple amount of control.
So here I am, trying to stop myself from completely shutting down and doing absolutely nothing. Surely there’s something that keeps me going, despite the current conditions, yes? What is it, exactly? The hope of better days? What might come once this job is over? Hopes of what I could be working on instead? I’m not sure, but I am still functioning on some level. I feel weak and tired, but I’m left with no other choice but to endure these feelings. What I do have that’s available to me would not help me get through the next few weeks. All I genuinely want is the feeling that I could do the things that I want to do, but that seems so distant, like a dream of what could be, rather than what actually is.
Even if only mentally I want to keep moving forward, it doesn’t matter if my physical body cannot keep up with my mental one, even if it is moving extraordinarily slow. Writing a few words feels like a drag, and I’m surprised it’s even possible for my fingers to keep up with the words that I think. I could drink an indefinite number of coffees and still feel nothing. I could take caffeine pills and still feel nothing. The fatigue won’t end, and it makes me wonder if this is really it; like I genuinely cannot do anything about it. Even if I want to make something, put something together, it doesn’t matter if I want it. If I’m too tired to execute my wants, why would I have wants in the first place? What good would that do when in such a state?
These types of thoughts only feed the mental void that I’m seemingly always put into a state of experiencing. If these are the feelings I must experience, the thoughts I must experience, and I don’t understand why, how do you think I’m going to react? Obviously, I’m going to try and find a way out of it, just like how anyone else would. I’ve tried a variety of things to try and reach of point of feeling okay, or at the very least, better than some empty void. These have ranged from tinkering with computers to doing drugs, and you can imagine what has and has not worked for me. For things that have, I abused them, and lost the privilege of using them, at least for the moment. What then, what in the present, what for the person who has to deal with the world in front of them; what do they do? What do they have?
An even more important question is, “What are they willing to admit they have?” I might have things, but to actually admit that I do, and then use what I do have, is not the same as pretending like they don’t exist. I can pretend like caffeine doesn’t work, but it actually does, but I have to be wary with its usage, because in the past, I have abused it, and then it became useless. I have had manic moments where I felt energized and that I must complete the task I’ve placed in front of me, but they just tend to be infrequent. I have people, but I refuse to call out for help, and this is a reoccurring problem that I have. It applies to the me now, and it applies to the me who exists in those deep and dark depressive lows. There is an unwillingness to ask for help. Why might this be the case? Well, if you are cognizant of anything with just about anything personal I’ve shared, I have found that parts of me are simply reflections of my experience with my parents. This means things like; me asking for help from them, and then not receiving that help, would also become a part of me and impact my decision-making, even in present day. Even if those moments have passed, and those people might not be in my life anymore, the thoughts and feelings I’ve experienced still exist and are a part of me. This goes on to showcase that I feel the same way towards many of the good people in my life; my friends.
In the midst of my depressions, I genuinely believe that they cannot help me, or will refuse to help me, or something negative will occur as a result of me asking for help. This is obviously foolish and a case of me being blindfolded when in such a deep depressive state. Yes, the systems that caused me to think that way are still present, but when things are good, they don’t have nearly as strong of a hold on me. However, when I am depressed, especially in a deep depression, those systems have a dominance over me, and I can’t control them to any extent… or so it feels that way. This leads me to avoid reaching out for help, despite the fact that if I did reach out, things would be much better for me.
It’s not easy to reach out for help, even when I’m in my relatively normal and rational mind. Of course it wasn’t going to be easy, there was always going to be some difficulty, but being able to do so to any extent only helps me. It teaches me that it’s okay to reach out to the people I love and trust. I’ve been hurt by many friends in the past, but that is the past, and time is continually always moving forward. Not only will I normalize having good people in my life, as I continually become more okay with reaching out to my friends, the old systems of thought will break down completely, and the new ones will take priority in my mental hierarchy, and then what I once thought I didn’t have control over, I then do. Once this normalizes, when in that deep depression, what once hurt no longer will… or so I hope.
This might come off as incoherent to some, it definitely lacks idealistic structure, but to those who can even make out a small quantity of what I’ve shared; to even understand small aspects, I speak to you. All that I want to say, at the end of the day, despite all the words without structure, is that… things will be okay. I find that hard to believe sometimes, too, but I want to hold onto that belief more than anything else. It hurts so much more to think things will never be okay than to think there is even a chance that they will be okay. When in that deep depression, it might seem like it makes more sense to think that things won’t ever get better, but I assure you, it’s best not to think that way. Perhaps while you’re in such a state, you don’t believe such comments, especially not from some random person on the internet, but I’ve been there, and I know how it feels. I know what that darkness is like. When the light comes, I hope that these words will sound believable to you, and that you genuinely believe that things will get better. If you ever have to go into those dark depths again, perhaps some of these words will remind you of what is really happening, and you’ll be able to exit the cavern earlier rather than later.