It’s said (by the mental health team I deal with, anyway) that the longer you leave a period of depression before you seek help, the longer it takes to recover. If that’s the case then I must have been ejected from the womb already crippled with mental health issues.
This bout of depression does not want to shift. I’m suffocating under it. Medication is increased, I have a good couple of weeks, and then I’m right back down to my knees. How a person is supposed to continually meander their way through life, feeling like this indefinitely, is astonishing to me.
The generalised anxiety disorder isn’t very compatible with a depressive episode. When will it end? When will I start to get better? Is that my low mood or just a bad day? Endless over analysing and 1am bedtimes. Exhausting.
Choosing this existence versus opting out is difficult. I fear that one day I’ll snap, and that’ll be it. What’s worse is that this thought isn’t all that frightening. It’s something of a comfort. A back up plan. And yes, I know how fucked up that is.
I’ll just hang around, adjusting my medication, waiting on cognitive behavioural therapy, in the hope that it’ll miraculously save me from myself. All prayers, positive vibes, thoughts etc etc are very much welcomed in the meantime.