Depression is very treatable in most cases. I know this. Heck, I was a psychiatry secretary for three years.
Meds help, regardless of who says otherwise. I would not be writing this without them. I would be pretty much completely non-functional still. Therapy helps, I have a wonderful therapist that I’m very grateful for, and a family doctor who wants full updates every time I see him and is always encouraging. Family support helps, beyond words.
But what happens when you’re no longer “depressed,” per se? When you no longer fit the criteria for diagnosis, and can be considered to have recovered? What if, at that point, you still don’t feel like you have a grip on your life again?
What if you look around, and see a year’s backlog of housework, not done because you just didn’t care and didn’t have the energy and because your beloved partner physically can’t do it and there just isn’t anyone else? What if you find yourself feeling so lonely that you want friendly and supportive company more than anything else, except maybe a few good laughs, and you end up spending just-a-little-longer online to fill that need, instead of doing things you should be doing? What if, even though you’re “all better,” you still feel lost and scared of life, because you’re terrified of making the wrong choice and crashing again? What if your self-esteem is trashed by not working, by a nagging feeling that you’ve somehow failed, by a weight increase due to too much junk food and no exercise, by a lack of enough energy to do anything about the weight?
*sigh* I don’t know. Probably I’m just whining. Or something. After all, Sean’s having another bad pain day, and it’s fall and it’s been gray and rainy for a week or so now, which is really not helping my mood — I like fall, but only when it’s the clear crisp weather, and this steady wet stuff is just dismal. Maybe it’s just low blood sugar or something, I wonder what I can find to make for supper… something that doesn’t require too much energy or concentration….