Thursday, June 29, 2006
Depression: Fear is the Mindkiller
From the time I can think of myself as myself I think I've been struggling with depression. Going back to very early memories I've seen myself as lonely and isolated. Different. Even as a member of a large family. "I'm not like everybody else. Something separates me from them."
Maybe everyone experiences that feeling, but doesn't necessarily interpret it as depression. But I can recall a time when I contemplated suicide, holding a knife in the kitchen of the house I spent my earliest childhood in. I couldn't have been more than 11 years old, and I think even younger. That's what makes me say 'depression' and not something else.
Always having that thought hovering in the back of my mind has affected the choices I've made during my life. There's always been a certain lack of commitment. It's sort of like going into a marriage thinking "Well, I can always get a divorce." There's tentativeness in that way of thinking that undermines success.
In my thirties and still floundering around in college, I began to get more anxious the closer I came to fulfilling my degree. Having spent years observing my cyclic moods, I knew I was in danger of blowing it yet again. If it doesn't happen now, I'll probably never be this close agin. I wanted so much to finally graduate, to bring at least one thing to a conclusion, that I decided to take control.
I talked to a doctor my depression. He gave me a prescription and I started taking the medicine: Paxil and then Zoloft.
I graduated. It felt good. There was also some counseling involved. Afraid that taking a drug daily would make me into someone else, someone strange to me, I found the effect to be subtle. So subtle, in fact, that when I could no longer afford my prescription I let it lapse. That, too, didn't seem to be a dramatic change.
I would sometimes attribute my finishing school as due to a placebo effect. It was my decision to do whatever it took that made the difference, not the medicine. Having now years later found myself mired in depression again, I'm not so sure of that anymore.
I have started taking anti-depressants again, and little more than a couple of weeks in I already seem to feel better. Again I wonder: is it the medicine? Or is it the determination?
For the time being, it's going to be both.
Maybe everyone experiences that feeling, but doesn't necessarily interpret it as depression. But I can recall a time when I contemplated suicide, holding a knife in the kitchen of the house I spent my earliest childhood in. I couldn't have been more than 11 years old, and I think even younger. That's what makes me say 'depression' and not something else.
Always having that thought hovering in the back of my mind has affected the choices I've made during my life. There's always been a certain lack of commitment. It's sort of like going into a marriage thinking "Well, I can always get a divorce." There's tentativeness in that way of thinking that undermines success.
In my thirties and still floundering around in college, I began to get more anxious the closer I came to fulfilling my degree. Having spent years observing my cyclic moods, I knew I was in danger of blowing it yet again. If it doesn't happen now, I'll probably never be this close agin. I wanted so much to finally graduate, to bring at least one thing to a conclusion, that I decided to take control.
I talked to a doctor my depression. He gave me a prescription and I started taking the medicine: Paxil and then Zoloft.
I graduated. It felt good. There was also some counseling involved. Afraid that taking a drug daily would make me into someone else, someone strange to me, I found the effect to be subtle. So subtle, in fact, that when I could no longer afford my prescription I let it lapse. That, too, didn't seem to be a dramatic change.
I would sometimes attribute my finishing school as due to a placebo effect. It was my decision to do whatever it took that made the difference, not the medicine. Having now years later found myself mired in depression again, I'm not so sure of that anymore.
I have started taking anti-depressants again, and little more than a couple of weeks in I already seem to feel better. Again I wonder: is it the medicine? Or is it the determination?
For the time being, it's going to be both.
# posted by newbie @ 4:20 PM 
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I think "artist" types struggle the most with depression. I think everyone is depressed to some extent, but as you found, there is treatment and (by and large) it does "work". It makes sense to do what you can to keep depression at bay. However, artists are driven by an inner passion and the treatment for depression by it's very nature tends to "round off" the sharp pains of life and lead to a life of dull contentment. So, do you choose to live burning your candle on both ends or live in a contented quiet? The choice is not even that simple, since the effects of both treatment and non-treatment are much more subtle and unpredictable. As you say, the very fact of choosing is to gain control of your life, regardless of the effects of the decision. So in many ways you have done the right thing, regardless of your choice. (Boy, does that sound relativistic, or what!)
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# posted by 
: 10:12 AM
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