It turns out, there are lots of things that are harder when you’re struggling with depression. Everybody knows about the crying, the numbness and the lethargy. They know about the suicidal thoughts and the black wall in front of you. The more enlightened non-sufferers know about the exhaustion, the sleeping problems and the strange relationships with food and friends.
However, there are things, subtle things, that I’d been struggling with for years that were because of the depression. I had no idea until my medication started working. So, for information for those who love and care for the depressed, and for those who suffer themselves, these are the things I couldn’t do before my meds started working:
1. Finish a book in less than six weeks.
Depression messes with your concentration. It never occurred to me that the reason I couldn’t focus to read more than a page or so of any given novel at a time was due to that. I thought I was just too scatty, then my meds worked.
2. Sleep with the light off.
The dark became repressive, heavy, scary. I couldn’t deal with the isolation. At my worst, it made me suffer auditory hallucinations. More over, my chemicals were so out of whack that I didn’t need darkness to sleep, I just needed opportunity—not even comfortable opportunity. Now, like people who aren’t depressed I have to have low light and take my time to drop off. I thought I was a champion sleeper, then my meds worked.
3. Keep my bedroom tidy.
The only things that make my room untidy are dirty laundry and used cups. Simple to manage you’d think. No. Not when you’re severely depressed. I just couldn’t seem to stretch the extra inches to drop my dirty laundry into the washing basket.
Never mind about when my darling partner brought back my clean washing and dumped it on my bed. Just put it in the drawers you’re thinking. For years, I never had the energy. My clean clothes would end up on the floor, mixing with the dirty ones. Mugs would pile up because it wa too much to take them downstairs. It was horrid. I thought I was just a slob, then my meds worked.
4. Leave my phone at home without panicking.
Modern life leads us to mobile addiction—people are always fiddling with their phones checking Twitter, Facebook, texting, playing games, whatever. I’ll be the first to admit I’m hooked on the internet. This wasn’t that. This was an honest to goodness terror of being disconnected.
I was totally afraid of being alone, not being able to contact friends – even if only briefly. Quick texts became a mainstay of my coping mechanisms. Just the ability to reach out and make human contact with someone, if only to received a smiley in return. It helped a lot. For ages I couldn’t go more than 15 minutes without checking my phone, then my meds worked.
5. Drink enough water.
I actually quite like really cold water. We have it freely accessible at work. All I had to do was fill my bottle, then fill my face. This was too much for me. Sometimes, I’d get to supper time having drunk nothing. I’d manage a small glass of juice or pop to stop my mouth drying out. I couldn’t bring myself to drink things that were less than amazingly tasty. It didn’t matter how much my partner nagged.
I didn’t understand the benefits of being well hydrated. In fact my constant dehydration probably added to my depression, it certainly didn’t help. I thought the whole benefit of hydration was a myth, then my meds worked.
6. Enjoy silence.
There’s a lot of white noise in your head, and when you’re depressed it hates you. It goes on and on about things that will hurt you. You can’t catch a break. I found that if I blocked the noises out with music, films, anything at all, then I wasn’t likely to have a meltdown over something that happened three years ago or the fact that all my friends obviously hate me, or one of the other bullsh*t things my head was trying to say.
It takes its toll, constantly having things rolling around in your head. Silence is restful, it’s good for the soul. I wanted to love it but I couldn’t stand it, then my meds worked. I realise that it may sound as though I’m crowing because my meds work—and frankly anyone with depression will tell you that’s totally forgiveable, however I promise you that the intention was not (just) that.
I’m not the only one who has suffered these subtle yet pervasive symptoms of depression.
