Just thought it would be interesting... I was berating myself last night for not preparing for the GRE (Graduate Record Exam... basically the SATs on steroids and usually required to get into Grad School) and so not being able to apply for Grad school for the fall... which means that I have to figure out what to do the year in between... and I'm scared... worried... apprehensive... and slightly tearful when I think about the fact that I have absolutely no idea what I am going to do.
Anyway, while giving myself a good mental kick in the butt I had to also remind myself that I had a very good reason for not being prepared to take the exam... that I had basically not been functional for the past seven or so months.
Why did I have to remind myself of this? Because I have found that, especially after a really bad episode, once I am again out of the Pit and dwelling on the plane where exists my Dysthymic Haze... I find it very easy to become impatient with myself... to tell myself that if I had just tried a little harder, if I had just put more effort into functioning, that I could have done it... That the anxiety I am feeling about my future is the direct result of my irresponsibility and not of a real and terrible disorder (sounds melodramatic but wait till I describe it for you) that took hold of me yet again... that consumed me... that held me in darkness.
I've had two episodes that were particularly unsettling in my life... were they the only times I found myself in a major depressive episode? Probably not. They were, however, the worst... times that, if I didn't know I had experienced them... if I did not have proof in the form of journal entries that they really WERE that bad... I could easily convince myself that they didn't happen, or that the problems they cause, the disruption that took place in my life, was of my own making... was my fault.
The first was a few years ago and I was actually surprisingly functional, at least I appeared that way to all save my room mate. I went to classes, went to work, did my homework, went to church and followed through on all my responsibilities there (I played in the worship band, lead worship for our college group, went to leadership meetings). And then I went home. I slept a lot. I closed myself in my room and watched movies in the dark all the time. Everything seemed to take so much effort, so much energy. Taking a shower drained me so much that I would make my way back to bed and lay there until I had enough energy to do... well, anything. Sometimes it would lead to a nap. I ate next to nothing... not because I was restricting my calorie intake on purpose but because I just wasn't hungry... and when I was it took too much effort to go to the dining hall and get something to eat... hell, it took too much effort to grab something off the shelf or out of the freezer and prepare it... I just couldn't be bothered. None of this sounds all that bad right? (though if you know anything about depression you know that all the sleeping, lack of energy, and lack of apatite are some of the signs) That's because that's not the worst part of it. The worst part was the emptiness that came with it... Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be dead? I've experienced it and it's almost inexplicable... it is hollow, vacant, nonexistent... it is nothing. You won't understand it unless you've experienced it (and I pray to God that you never do)... it's just an all-consuming emptiness, one that you are fully aware. If you look you might notice it in someone’s eyes. I was SURE others couldn't help but notice it there, through the windows to my soul, and was surprised when no one did...
The second started sometime late spring of this last year (2007) and I think is more easily pictured. I came to a point where I just wasn't functional. I went to work and begged to be the one sent home early every day (keep in mind I only worked two eight hour days most of the summer) where I could be alone. I spent most of my free time laying in bed staring vacantly at the ceiling or the wall or hiding under my pillow, so close to the wall that I almost became one with it. Sometimes I went down stairs... can you guess what I did there? Yep, 90% of the time I lay on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, or at the side of the cabinet next to me, thinking nothing, feeling nothing except the hollow , experience of death while still alive (gosh I hope none of you experience that). I stopped communicating with friends and family unless it was absolutely necessary... I cut a lot... sometimes I burned (not my preferred method)... I dropped a required class knowing full well that I would have to take it some time... that dropping it would put me below the required credits I needed for my financial aid which meant that I would be on financial aid probation... I rarely attended the classes I had left, sometimes sleeping in my car (when it was warm) in the parking lot during a class and before work (this lead to two poor grades taking me below the required GPA for the term meaning I am also on academic probation this term)... I was suicidal many times during that approximate seven month period (the thought of what it would do to friends and family was sometimes the only thing that kept me around... sometimes I don't know why I stuck around as I wasn't even concerned for them any more, I just wanted it to end)... it was a dark place, a dark time...
So why did I share this with you all? Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. Part of me just wanted to describe it for SOMEONE. What I have found is that it is basically indescribable... that the words on this page do not do the experiences justice... that they barely come close to what actually happened, to what it actually felt like. Another part of me thinks that I wanted to give you a look into my experience. I would wager a guess that it is rather similar to that of others who have experienced a major depressive episode... maybe worse, maybe not as bad...
Any way I hope this was a learning experience for you...
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