The Battle Of Depression Reloaded - Part 1
Oh Dear God!
What the f*!
Yup. I used a not so lovely word to express how I feel at this moment.
I had to have the much-feared, uncomfortable conversation at my workplace today about my depression relapse and the treatment journey I am embarking on. I am going to an intense outpatient program for a few weeks, three days a week. This one is a first.
How do I feel?
I feel like the world has come and crashed on me.
I feel my life as I know has ended.
I feel I have reached the end of my rope.
I feel I have nothing left to fight anymore.
I feel the dread of hurting my loved ones.
How do I feel now?
I feel fighting until there is no rope left.
I feel like lifting my legs and climbing back up even when my tired mind is telling me to let go.
I feel I have found hope in the compassionate social worker's words.
I feel relieved that I am not hiding anything.
I feel life is not done yet.
I don't know what waits for me a few weeks or even days from now. I don't have the faintest of a clue what will be the outcome. I know that I have my climbing shoes on. And I am climbing back out of the ditch.
Depression is not just in mind. It doesn't appear because you overthink. I am not medically qualified to say what depression is and is not. However, I can speak from my experience and ton of research I do to keep one step ahead of this illness. I can talk about its effects on one's self and her family.
I have to think many times before I embark on writing about it. As we are still not at a place where we can accept this illness as an illness. I have been struggling with it most of my life and yet I worried even today if there is a possibility that I am intentionally doing it by not controlling my thoughts.
I have read very vastly about it. All aspects of it. I have read books that claim it is nothing but a lack of faith. I have listened to speeches where belief clears this illness. I have both listened to books that speak of the multifaceted reach of this disease.
Yes, I still doubt if its all in my head. It is, in a way.
Medical science says it is a chemical imbalance, which can be triggered by stress triggers. And yet, not everyone gets it. The severity is not the same. The effects of medicines are not the same. Nothing is alike among the people who suffer from this.
Depression is as unique of disease as we all are.
I would like to tell you a story.
A story of relapse and the struggle to climb back out of the darkened pit.
It all started a few weeks ago when I noticed my heart rate is up. Unusually up. I jokingly say "my heart thinks I am fat, so it constantly runs on fat burn thinking it will help me lose weight."
I know. Bad joke, isn't it?
Why write about it today?
Because of this.
"I hope you forgive me. "
"There is nothing to forgive... I understand why you feel that, but please remember it is a health issue we are dealing with and not choices you are making for any other reason."
That's a conversation snippet from today's exchange between my husband and me. First one is me and second is him.
I am grateful to have a partner who is reminding me that this is a health condition and not a trip to Hawaii that I planned.
And that is why I am writing.
Until I read his message, I was plagued with shame, guilt, and disgust. I had forgotten that I did not go and choose this illness for myself. And since it is what I have my choice is to fight against it. My preference is to speak up about it so that maybe one more person finds the strength to get the proper help.
The worst thing about this illness is fear. I live in fear of this being a permanent address. At moments of mental clarity, I tend to think of this as a precautionary tale to keep myself in check. Nothing other than having other permanent illness we all see around.
Today, I came back from my assessment and decided to reach out to my workplace and let them in on what has in store for me for the next few weeks. I dreaded every minute of that conversation. I do not have an idea of what will happen in the next few weeks regarding the workplace. I once worked for a company that found a million reasons and put me through a meeting where I was given a choice to "Either quit on your own or we put a black mark on your record." Whatever it might be, I will face it with my head held high.
I am working as fast as I can, which might be slow for a few weeks. All I can be honest about is that I am not going to quit trying. The fear stemmed from not facing this was much more significant than the fear of not knowing what waits for me. I feel relieved to hold my faith in knowing I am being honest and facing the problem head-on.
Part 2 tomorrow.