I already hate doing this blog and it's been less than year.
It's not just the sense of obligation or the draining process of recalling how
I've actually been feeling over the past few weeks, it's the world of
depression based writing that makes me so reluctant to do this on a regular
basis. The internet is now awash with good news stories, tips and saccharine
sweet quotes, dripping in the same kind of relentless, inflexible positivity
that defines totalitarian propaganda. It is possible to recover from this, I'm
fairly certain. Unfortunately, the complexities of this illness vary from
person to person and if CBT or medication can't fix you quickly, finding in
depth, ongoing medical treatment that doesn't cost more than somebody who
relies on sporadic work and badly managed benefits can afford is a painfully
slow process.
After almost two
years on a waiting list, several temporary jobs I was forced to take in order
to survive and a couple of house moves, I still don't feel any better. The
worst part is, I've started to accept this is just how I feel. If I have a
difficult day at work, which is pretty much whenever I go to work, I need to go
bed at about 9pm to try and recover. The panic I feel before leaving the house
is exhausting and the instability of my working life makes that worse. Having
completed an internship and a few months as a freelance content writer, I've
had a taste of the kind of work I enjoy and I intend to pursue it until I'm
making a decent living from writing in one capacity or another. In the mean
time, I am registered with several different temp agencies and signing on to
get universal credit, though I'm yet to actually see any money. I'd like to
wake up every morning with some kind of powerful slogan in my head and the
drive and focus to behave like they do in advert land, but life isn't like
that, not in reality.
At 35, I've had professional jobs, long term relationships,
experienced the death of close friends and family as well as the crippling and
life defining illness that is depression mixed with anxiety. As much as I want
to agree with all of the articles that urge me not to let depression define who
I am, the reality I exist in means that I don't have a choice. Some days I feel
so miserable, tired and lethargic that I can't work. There's no pattern and
often no catalyst, but every now and then, I can't function. It's that simple.
I'd like to make a guarantees to employers but I can't. I want to work and
ideally work in a full time, professional role, but my health means I can't
guarantee I'll be well enough to work all the time. What happens if I feel so
ill I can't come to work more than four or fives times in a couple of months?
That looks bad. Sick days run out, holidays are declined and those ominous
"one to one" meetings with a line manager start to happen. Their
hands are tied, its company policy, ill people aren't cost effective.
I need in depth psychological therapy provided by a highly
qualified professional due to the nature of my condition. I surmised this
through years of private therapy which I can no longer afford as well as fairly
extensive research. I know what I need to do and it's difficult, complicated
and painful but I believe it will ultimately grant me the depth of
understanding needed to start overcoming this once and for all. Until that
point, I need to survive through a combination of good will from friends and
family, medication and self help groups that I am technically not allowed to
attend while on a waiting list as they are still classed as "therapeutic
intervention." (Yes, this is true.
After a recent visit to a mindfulness workshop, followed by a concerned phonecall
from the practitioner, I was told my scores from the survey indicated severe
depression but as I was already on a waiting list to see a psychologist, I was
prohibited from engaging in other treatment options.) I have very little fight
left, to be honest. I want to imagine my life getting better, but while I lack
the energy and the emotional stability to cope with every day life, I just
can't picture it. Reading articles about running, eating fruit and vegetables
or meditating can be helpful and I try to do all of these things. Unfortunately,
their effect is limited. Like taking a paracetamol for a massive gaping head
wound. It takes the edge off, but you still get the feeling something's not
quite right, if you know what I mean.
I'll keep applying for jobs, I'll keep asking the doctor
when I'll be seen by a psychologist and I'll keep taking the SSRIs that make
everything feel neutral. I have literally no idea what I'm supposed to do next.
Sorry for being a downer, but this is the reality of living with depression and
no amount of cupcakes, romantic comedies or jogging will fix it.
