When I think about depression, I think about two words “defeat and conquer”. Depression is a bitch, and there honestly nothing poetic I can say about it. It steals your life, and its a battle to survive. As if life isn’t hard enough. I’m diagnoses with bioschizoaffective disorder, a fancy way of saying bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. A world of chaos. One day I’ll write about my mania and psychosis. Not today.
Depression starts off feeling like minor aches in your body, and then comes fatigue, you may feel like your getting a cold. So you rest, naturally and then the next morning your can’t get out of bed and if you’re like me, you just said “Fuck, I’m crashing”. You spend about an hour coaching yourself out of bed to get to work, putting on the morning radio, but then you’re annoyed by the sound of others people morning joy. So you turn it off. Taking a shower is like world war 3, and all you visualize is the lost of lives and you’re not sure how to keep going.
By now I’m debating if I want to call out of work, so then I rationalize my choices, miss a day of pay or fight. Fight it is! You’re dressed and running late, so no breakfast. Now you have no energy to start your day off because of the chemicals in your brain, but also because you lacked your basic needs of necessity. Coffee, is the solution, and you fake the day through. I work as a barista and I realize I’ve drank about 10 shots of espresso by 11am, because my brain levels are off, and I’m depressed. The only thing that consumes my mind is either killing myself, or sleeping it away.
Mind you, the first person I should have called was my psychiatrist, but nope I text my friend. As if they have the magic pill to take away my pain. Sometimes this mean people will go out and drink, but for me it becomes crippling, and if you’ve never experienced what I’m talking about you don’t really know. You’re annoyed, and irritated with life. You’re contemplating ending your life and it’s tiring. Your friends says “this too shall pass” and with as much truth it holds, you know that it might not. This could be that one depressive episode that destroys it all, and you kill yourself. So, what I did was tell my friend to “fuck off”.
It’s 4pm and you have homework to do, but you just getting home from work, and you can’t focus on anything but your despair. You take your 9pm meds at 4:30 pm and just sleep hoping tomorrow will be better, you don’t shower, nor brush your teeth or eat dinner. It’s all to much. Your brain is telling you to end your life and resting is your only peace.
You’re asleep. Dreaming about death, and you feel a coat of black death and a sense of heaviness overcome you, like God has just abandon you and Satan is in your bed.
What do you do?
Call your doctor? Call your therapist?
No!
You call out of work, no homework, laundry is pilling up and you haven’t showered in four days, and you need help.
One time I called 911 and just went to the hospital. I was so suicidal and depressed I become psychotic in the most miserable way and was hospitalized for two months. On 1:1 because if I was left alone I’d hurt myself. Staff had to help me shower because I couldn’t take care of myself.
This time, I have more trained support around me, and my doctor is notified and I get a medicine increased. I shower for 5 minutes and really fast. I brush my teeth and never look back at my bed, because if I do, I’ll never get back up. I do things in little sparks of energy, and rest when needed. I’ve learned to how to be depressed. I think about killing myself and then I rationalized through question: “is the forever or temporary?”
I’m depressed and this is my story, this is my pattern. I’m changing it though with every episode. I remember how I was so depressed and crippled by it last semester I did a few assignments a day, and just slept. No work. Then after a test it felt like a touch from the heavens and the depression was lifted. Like my new medicine just made contact with the right part of my brain and I was healed.
I’m waiting for that magic to happen again. I’m going to work, not calling out. I’m showering. But I’m resting a lot. I went to bed at 7pm last night and work up at 11am. I’m not really smiling and my thoughts are tormented by suicidal ideas. I’m doing a lot better than before. I’m making progress and its brings me a sense of hope.
I would suggest to the next person who stumbles across this post and can relate, reach out before it’s to late. Even if you tell your provider or someone “I’m crashing” you won’t have to crash alone. I wrote a blog that is titled “I’ll Make It” and I read it to remind myself that I will. So you will too. I want to say God is there, and he hears you but I don’t feel comforted by that during this episode. It makes me angry and confused. What I will say is that God will provide you with the tools and people to get you through, you just have to identify them.
God Bless. (sorry for the grammar mistakes, I needed to write this, when my mood is up I’ll edit it.)
Domenia Dickey
My Journey, My Style 