I myself, was such a frequent customer at the pharmacy close to my apartment, that they knew me by name, and I didn’t even have to show them my prescription papers. They’d simply ask what I need/wanted, and all I had to do is point at the medicine behind the glass (that’s never locked by the way. People make sure that their perfumes are locked behind glass in retail stores, but hardcore meds at the pharmacy, no pasa nada).
So yes, I pick up the latest batch of pills that this doctor thinks will help me ‘snap out of it’. Along with the walking of course. Can’t forget the walking.
I drag my feet into my apartment, where the shades are already closed. Lights are off. And the pillow, and blanket, are still awaiting my return to the sofa (which, at this point, was pretty much moulded after my body), as well as, a tv playing a semi-loud TV series of slightly interesting documentaries that I’d already seen countless of times, but I like them enough to have them on repeat all day, and night.
It’s not about the entertainment of having the TV on, I need something to distract myself from these thoughts in my head, the thoughts that are increasingly getting more dark. For me, the TV distracts me, while not actually requiring my undivided attention.
This was my personal medical treatment. And of course, I had my PS4 controller on standby, and within reach, for those moments when the really bad thoughts arise. Some of us know that moment.
So that’s where I spend my days.. and nights. Vodka in the freezer for those times. Those times that a few of us occasionally experience.
Cooking is out of the question during these moments, so any restaurant that I can order from, and pay for online (because having to go to pick up my phone, and make that phone call to the restaurant, is too much to handle (that’s the level of anxiety that I’d get to). So, essentially, all that is required from me, is opening the door, taking the food, and a very polite hello, and goodbye. Just saying nothing to the delivery person is just plain rude in my opinion. My current situation isn’t their fault. So politeness is what they get Even if it’s strenuous on my part.
So, this arrangement of mine worked for a bit.. And then I’d have those brief ‘I’m well enough to handle uni again’ moments. And I’m out there studying again, immediately, refusing to waste any more time on my illness.
I think that this could have been one of my pitfalls. I was so eager to finish my degree as soon as possible, that I never gave myself that sort of ‘grace period’ needed, before getting into gear again.
A few months at the most.. and I’m on that couch again. Til’ this day, I’m yet to finish that degree.
These moments (I know that doctors like to call them ‘episodes’, but fuck that) would arise without any sort of trauma, or trigger, or specific reason. For some of us, it just happens, and most people just cannot (and/or will not) accept this. There’s always got to be a reason. ‘Something must have happened, you can’t just wake up one day and feel like this’.
In some cases, like mine, something happened in my life that changed me to a certain extent. I lost a parent. Suddenly. Unfairly. And it was devastating.
And since then, as a result (and yet another change in medical practitioner), this became their go-to diagnosis, a diagnosis where pretty much all doctors (since my loss), choose to link as being the ‘trigger’ of my depression, regardless of the fact, that this tragedy came along a couple of years after my initial diagnosis of major clinical depression.
What they fail to understand is that, I didn’t change, I just increasingly (and detrimentally), stopped trying to ‘save myself’ from my depression. I started to ignore those early warning signs/symptoms that I’d get, the ones letting me know what my mind was about to put me through, and on an unimaginably higher level than the usual day-to-day levels that I’d otherwise grown to be accustomed to.
I didn’t eat. I took my antidepressants somewhat sporadically (or just not at all). I’d take some of them (yeah, I’m one of those people on multiple meds to ‘stabilise’ me). But, say there’s one that I should take in the morning, I’d wait until the night before I actually bothered taking it, if I did bother doing so that is..
And then comes the anxiety medications. They say 2, I’d take 4. We know how these stories unfold. We know. So then comes the crash. The ‘fuck this’ moment. The moment that led me to being right here where I am. Writing this.
I took them all. My ‘make me happy’ medication. Every. Single. One.