I’ve suffered bouts of depression as long as I can remember. I have a vivid memory of being eight years old, crying my eyes out on the upstairs hall carpet, wondering what was wrong with me because I had been feeling sad for days for no reason. I hammered on my skull and tried to WILL myself happy.
Ah, the healthy coping strategies of children.
Anyway, fast forward some years, more random crying jags, talk therapy… getting over my personal aversion to taking medication and/or seeing doctors… I’ve been on an antidepressant for about three years now. Well, off and on.
It made an amazing difference. Not only was I no longer spiraling in self-hate, I was also more focused, in general?
Well, I let my prescription run out. And I’ve been having a hard time of it. I’m not… interested in doing anything beyond obligations. It all doesn’t feel worth it? Even riding my bike to work feels like an arduous chore more than it used to, but I am doing it. I’m getting up and going to work and crying at my desk, but I’m moving through life.
It ran out a month or two ago, to be clear. I knew I’d be too busy to schedule a doctor’s appointment to renew the prescription, so I stepped down my dosage carefully and stopped. It was the height of summer, I was super happy. Then, well, the weather got autumnal-adjacent, and I still hadn’t made an appointment. I called, but the next available appointment wasn’t until October. OCTOBER. Ugh. (I called a few weeks ago.)
This is all to say, I don’t have a blog post for today on some writing topic or personal soapbox subject. I’m just trying to continue putting one step in front of the other, meeting my obligations until my doctor’s appointment, which I was able to get moved up to this week thanks to a cancellation! Hopefully by the time you read this, I’ll have more stop-the-sads pills.
And after spending far too long skimming through my 19 started drafts of blog posts, I’m giving myself permission to not write one this week, and also permission to not pretend I’m okay.
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