Monday, September 10, 2012

In which I angrily rant on about my depression and the lack of a cure

I realize that you can’t really expect the world or the people in it to solve your problems but I can’t help but to think that it would be nice if it or they could. Just every now and then.

I’ve learned more about my mind and brain, and my human behavior biology than I probably cared to in the last week or so and it’s really interesting stuff.

I’ve wished that I had somehow married Professor Robert Sapolsky because if anyone could understand me he would be that someone.

I’ve searched for answer about my depression because it seems that I have graduated from being merely depressed to suffering from major depression.

On a more positive note though, I think I’ve kind of have a much better handle on the anxiety. I say this cautiously because I don’t want to make it angry so it stirs into action again.

I’m “at peace” with being depressed. I’m not at peace with how it makes me think. It’s putting any previously conceived conspiracy theory to shame and it does so in a very personal way. They’re out to get me. You’re out to get me. I’m out to get me. Everything is out to get me. There’s simply no reasonable explanation for why everyone, including myself, would waste so much energy on being out to get me but it is the unmistakable truth about my existence.

If I was suffering from cancer (and it’s probably out to get me too, let’s face it) I would be in chemotherapy and getting blasted with radiography by now. There would be a team of doctors and nurses out to get back at it and I would be thinking positive because you must think positive (or you die) when you have cancer.

Thank goodness I don’t have cancer. I couldn’t think positive if I tried.

The problem with depression is that no one seems to know what’s going on. The treatment consists of you and a bunch of highly educated people approaching your condition much the same way you throw darts at a dart board; you aim and hope for the best. If you’re lucky it’s bullseye but that rarely seems to happen so here we are, depression and I, and currently it’s in charge.

There are no tiny armies of nanobots that can be sent into my mind to kick ass and get serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine to behave in a way that doesn’t affect me adversely. This is a hit and miss science and for a cerebral person like myself it’s pure torture to not be able to have any sort of control over how I feel.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know what you’re dying to tell me. Think positive and it will change. CBT is (apparently) the most effective treatment for depression and anxiety, and that’s all very well and good but I, I, cannot wrap my head around that shit now and I would like to get a shot of “cheer-me the-fuck-up-instantly”, thank you very much. That would be helpful at this stage.

I’m going back to Barry the hypnotherapist again tomorrow and I hope he can penetrate my thick skull with his suggestions and make sure the depression buggers off. I’m done with it. I want to break up with it. I don’t think we’re meant to be. It would be totally awesome at this stage to look at something I’ve done and declare it awesome in my own mind. If I can do that maybe I can declare myself awesome next.

I’m just saying.

1 comment:

  1. not to feed your depression or anything or even remotely make light of it, but have you seen hyperbole and a half's (the one who "cleans all the things") depression post? it might make you feel a little bit better, or possibly cause you to eat skittles and watch jumanji. but still...

    i'd totally hang out with you and drink g&t's if we lived in the same hemisphere.


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