I think the worst part about being chronically depressed is the unavoidable feeling of everyone getting tired of your episodes — “why are you always sad?” is probably one of the most frequently asked question in my life right now.

my mood swings and disappearing hope for living is become increasingly worse everyday and not hurting myself has become an achievement.

i do however think giving up is typical so im gonna see it through.

DEPRESSION

Depression is a common and serious mental illness that negatively affects how you feel the way you think and how you act. It is a mood disorder. Depression causes feelings of sadness, low self-worth, guilt or a loss of interest in activities you once enjoyed. It can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems and can decrease your ability to function at work and at home. It differs from simple grief or mourning, which are appropriate emotional responses to the loss of loved persons or objects. Where there are clear grounds for a person’s unhappiness, depression is present if the depressed mood is disproportionately long or severe. Depression can have many causes. Unfavorable life events can increase a person’s vulnerability to depression or trigger a depressive episode. Negative thoughts about oneself and the world are also important in producing and maintaining depressive symptoms.

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Going through another depressive episode. Great.

There are good days and there are bad days.

At the moment I have a lot of bad days. Stress, self loathing, feeling inadequate and not worthy of something good, insomnia and antidepressants that aren’t helping.. Not a good combo.

I feel so... detached lately. It feels like I am watching my life unfold before me but not taking active part in it. Like I am damaged beyond repair. Rationally I know that my life isn’t the worst - I have a job, I have friends who like me, Family that at least partly accepts me. But tell that to my head... I would love to just dissolve into hot air, to disappear, to make everyone forget about me so they can live their life without a burden like me. 

It’s not like I am suicidal (at least not yet, I don’t know what this sickness will do to me), but just.. not.. being here. It sounds so promising. I am yearning for it.

Frustration

That feeling when you want to throw something (plate, glas, etc) on the ground or against a wall.

Montag, 15.04.2019 - 00:08 Uhr

So.. ich habe jetzt erfolgreich diesen Blog hier eingerichtet. Zur Frage, wieso ich das gemacht habe: auf Twitter gibt es leider die Begrenzung von 140 Zeichen und das reicht lange nicht, wenn ich ein „Tagebuch“ führen will. Deswegen werde ich diese nun hier veröffentlichen und auf Twitter die Links dazu und kleine Gedanken tweeten. Diese kleinen Tweets werde ich dann auch hier reinstellen.

Dieses „Tagebuch“ wird komplett anonym sein. Niemand soll wissen wer ich bin. Egal ob männlich oder weiblich, wie alt ich bin oder wo ich herkomme. Deswegen werden die Posts und Tweets so neutral wie nur möglich geschrieben und sollten Namen dabei sein, werden diese ausgetauscht, durch random Zeichen oder schwarze Blöcke ersetzt.

Ab heute Abend nehme ich mir dann wirklich vor, jeden Tag etwas zu schreiben. Bis dahin könnt ihr mir hier und auf Twitter folgen. Meinen Twittername könnt ihr in der Beschreibung finden. Vielleicht richte ich auch noch Instagram ein, aber da bin ich mir noch nicht so sicher.

~ D3pr3di

I’m grateful for these days when I don’t feel as empty as I usually do.

Currently busy with my correspondence course. Learning new stuff feels like caressing my brain.

Thinking about buying a present for a person I admire.

Now time for dinner.

Bye bye.

From The Blanket Fort, Episode 11: Waiting To Hit Bottom [Director’s Cut] #johnnyart #johnnyartpavlou #johnpavlouartist #depression #depressiondiary #vlogoftheday #mondrian #hittingbottom #wakingup #sleeping #quittingdayjob #nightshift #concierge

to be continued...

Entry #2

Dear Diary,

I know he and I have to pretend it never happened. It sucks, but it’s how it’s going to be... maybe forever.

I know he has feelings for her. He might even love her.

And it really sucks.

I want them to both be happy. I care about them both with all my heart.

But wow, it hurts. I miss him so much. I know I shouldn’t, yet I find myself up at all hours of the night, or staring off into space during the day, just thinking about him.

Until I remember again. He loves her, and never loved me. I was a passing phase for him, and he feels nothing for me anymore. It’s over.

And it really sucks.

Hallo Anhedonie

du gibst mir den Rest. Du bist das ultimative Zeichen, der letzte Verweis darauf, dass ich in einer Sackgasse gelandet bin, die Straße hinter mir verschüttet ist, und ich weder vor noch zurück kann. Du bedeutest, dass all die Dinge, von denen ich theoretisch weiß, dass ich sie mag -Tanz, Gesang, Gesellschaft- mich nicht mehr interessieren. Es gibt keine festere Bremse für das Leben, als dich. Denn was mach ich jetzt? Jetzt hab ich ja keine Lust mehr. Tanzen? Keine Lust. Singen? Ne, welches Lied denn, und wofür überhaupt? Freunde? Zu aufwändig, bis man mal da ist, und da muss man ja auch raus und sich mit dem ganzen Außenwelt-Kram rumschlagen. Tja, was bleibt da? Nichts. Das ist die Antwort. Aber das ist kein Leben. Das ist richtig RICHIG beschissen. Nein! Das ist keine Option für mich! Therapeut*in würde sagen: Aus der negativ-Spirale ausbrechen über die Gedanken-, Gefühls-, oder Handlungsebene!!! Gedanken und Handlungen kann ich ändern, ich hab das schon mal gemacht. Ich weiß, wie das geht. Ich fang klein an. Ich kann das. Ich schaff das. Ja, Anhedonie, interessant dich mal wider zu sehen... ich kann nicht sagen, dass es eine Freude ist. Ehrlich gesagt ist es der absolute Horror. Aber ich kann dir in den Arsch treten. Fest. Oder zart, aber dafür richtig oft!:) Du bist kein willkommener Gast hier, Anhedonie! Bitte verpiss dich, sonst muss ich dich rausschmeißen.

One week on new antidepressants

Okay. I made a pact with myself that I would write about my first week on a new antidepressant drug. To be fair, it’s been a little over a week already. Since February 10th, I’ve been taking one pill of Desvenlafaxine a day. Prior to that, I spent a month and a half going cold turkey w/o Escitalopram, which is the drug I took for a little over 2 years - always the same dosage of 10mg.

I think I should start by describing why I stopped taking Escitalopram in the first place. And this is a funny story. I went to visit my parents for the holidays, where I spent two weeks. Before that, I was extremely stressed with the year-end at my job, since I had to finish quite a bunch of different bureaucratic administrative processes before Dec. 31st, and also because I had my finals at this new undergrad major I started online (Statistics). I even had a major muscular spasm in my back that left me unable to walk or stand for 3 days, which had got to be psychosomatization. Anyhow, in the midst of all this, I forgot bringing the adequate amount of medication to this trip: I only brought an almost empty blister pack with three pills. As soon as I realized it, when I was already there, I knew I was fucked. I had no prescription to buy a new box, and I also felt so damn stupid because I had a full month’s-worth box just sitting at home - some 800 km away. So, the only thing I could do was bear the moodswings and the sweats and whatever would come along with the process of having Escitalopram leave my body slowly throughout those two weeks. Needless to say, family quarrels and bursts of cry ensued.

When I got back to where I live, I already had an appointment with my trusty psychiatrist only a few days later, which was a major relief. After I described the situation to him, adding that aside from the moodswings in the first week I felt no major side effects, he went on and suggested that I just stay off the medication altogether for a while. If I was showing good signals staying off of it so far, if I was commited to exercising and eating better and acquiring healthy habits, perhaps I could stay healthy without medication. As much as I appreciated his suggestion and I knew that I had support from him in case I felt whatever I could feel in the meantime, I did have my doubts. Nonetheless, I moved on with my life.

Oh honey, let me tell you. Two weeks were fine, I was busy getting back to work (mind you, work that I don’t particularly like but don’t know how to escape from), dealing with quarantine life again etc. By the third week, what I feared the most started crippling in: a dense cloud of depressed mood, confusion, lack of focus and just complete dreadful feelings about myself would cast over my head and I felt increasingly more miserable. First I was just unable to go to the gym, which I was doing really well in the first two weeks since returning from my trip. Then I started having some difficulties sleeping, then difficulties staying asleep - I’d wake up at 4h30 and not be able to go back to sleep at all. Not every day, of course, but more often than not. Then it slowly started taking over me: I was increasingly unable to laugh or even smile at anything, I felt extremely irritated about getting to work or doing whatever daily task I had to accomplish. Of course it also translated to a worsening of my self-image, looking at the mirror became increasingly difficult. Then the “bigger picture” also got worse and worse: I didn’t quite understand why I had to stay alive, feeling stuck in a place and in a persona that wasn’t me. I felt disconnected from reality, like I was in a video game or something.

Last year, before the trip to my parents’, I was also doing bad. Indeed, this was ever since I moved to this place to live alone - which should be a bliss! I can do whatever I want, be whatever type of person I believe I should be. But all I could feel, even under medication (Escitalopram 10mg), was an utter lack of joy for the condition of living as a human being. After all, I have no dreams, no plans, nothing to look forward to. Things I liked a lot in the past, such as writing or music or cooking, became nuisances for me. Slowly, I started giving into that feeling. So you can imagine how much worse I got after leaving the medication entirely.

But I had compromised with myself on one thing: I want to get better. I don’t want to waste my youth hating myself or hating life, because I know that as much as I had a lot of suicidal ideation, I just wouldn’t do it. I knew it. I know that life comes in many forms and has many different angles, there’s got to be one that I like to look at. There’s got to be a nice lens to look at all this mess and feel content. I “just” have to work toward that.

So I decided to go back to antidepressants.

I’m glad to say that Desvenlafaxine had a very short onset of action for me, I could already feel its effects in 3 or 4 days. What I feel right now is some sort of chemically induced “emotional stability”. The fundamentals of my life have not changed: I still have a very low image of myself, I still feel lost as to who I am, what I like or dislike and what I want to do in life. However, I at least feel like I can set those thoughts aside and not obsess over them for some time. I can breathe a little! And this has been helping me organize a course of action to counter these bad feelings. This week, I said goodbye to the therapist that had been following me since September ‘20, but with little to no therapeutic effect on me, and contacted a new counsellor to start sessions with her (it’s a she now). I also know that I have to get back to eating healthy, which I slipped off of for a while during the worst weeks I had, and stop drinking alcohol as a mechanism of escape since it doesn’t lead me anywhere. I am still alone, but I can finally see the connection between my feelings of loneliness and the elephant in the room that I was denying big time: COVID-19 and quarantine life! It’s obvious that I feel lonely; if I’m lonely now, when I think back at my late 2019, for example, I was going out so much and meeting so many people - especially coworkers - that it was a bit too hectic. I dialed back a lot, but perhaps too much, and wasn’t aware of it. I have this silly tendency of denying what’s right in front of my nose. And as much as I like spending time alone, I don’t like doing that because I have no other choice - and this has been happening repeatedly in the past year or several months.

I’ve been telling some friends that care about me that I feel optimistic. And I do! At the same time I know the size of the challenge that lies ahead, I have no option but to go ahead and take it up. And I’m optimistic because it is definitely going to be something near a rebirth. Imagine, I have to find out who I actually am! Who I want to become, what I find beautiful, what my true moral values are, what’s important to me, what I want to avoid. This is a humongous task, but I’m privileged enough to be surrounded (even if online) by people who support me and believe in me, and also to have access to adequate counselling and medication. In many ways, I am already thankful and I know I’m already in the process.

Let’s see how it goes. 

I started cutting again. It's a shame because I was clean for a couple months. The longest I'd ever been clean was 3 months. I don't really mind though, I don't see what's so bad about it as long as you're safe and don't go deep. Like yeah, "omg you hurt yourself? That's so sad." It's all just the societies thought of us being psycho but in reality, everyone has intrusive thoughts, some of us act on it. Either way, I'm not sure why I started again. Maybe it's because my brothers going back to Florida soon. He's the only company I've had for a good while and I'm not gonna know what to do when he leaves. It upsets me. And maybe it's because I'm gonna have to deal with my dad's emotions too when my brother leaves. It all sucks. I just miss my brother. I miss my niece. I dunno, I'll probably spend more time with my step sister after he leaves but I know it's gonna get bad. Aside from that, I purged for the first time in 4 years yesterday, it's whatever but I really don't know how to feel about it.

Originally I made the decision of deleting my Tumblr but here I am. Years later, I need an outlet of sorts because I am battling depression and are not the type of person to talk about me and my feelings and needs and so... A new Tumblr blog.

I will use the tag #DepressionDiary for posts about me and my depression, so you can block this if you don't want to see.

Continuation from previous post... 🔙🔙🔙 I just want anyone out there, who have experienced this personally, to know that, it is okay not to know. You are not losing your mind. You are not alone. I get it. I get you. 💜 To those who love and support me or to anyone who has to play a support role to someone suffering from anxiety and depression know that we are so appreciative of you. I love you so much and see what you do. Here are some support tips for the supporters aka superstars: 💙 You are not inadequate. Don't remind me or you of how  inadequate you feel, or how you don't know what to do. I also don't know and you saying that, makes me think I am so much and too much work for you. I now feel like a burden. 💙 Do some research for better understanding and just hold the space. Just be there. Silence is okay. 💙 I know you are trying your best and I will do anything to show you how appreciative I am. I know, simply because you are there. 💙 P. S. I AM REALLY OKAY and HAPPY AND AT PEACE right now. Don't worry about me now. I'm just sharing my truth so that I can heal and happy with the other amazing souls out there. Visit sadag.org if you or your loved one suffers from depression and/or anxiety. Follow them on Twitter @TheSADAG. #wordsbysimonne #thegirlnextdoor #depressiondiaries #anxiety #mentalhealthawareness https://www.instagram.com/p/B1uwT1QnGex/?igshid=1rnbnvalsf7w0