Here's a funny thing about depression, and it's not one you see listed anywhere alongside the typical symptoms used to identify it (although Allie Brosh of Hyperbole and a Half gives a remarkable account of it here and here). I'm talking about the mind numbing boredom that goes hand in hand with a really bad episode, because alongside the inability to motivate myself to do anything, there's the fact that somehow, I have to be awake for a good 14 to 16 hours of the day. That is one hell of a long time to sit and stare at nothing, or debate with myself about what I could/should be doing (incidentally, I can't turn on the TV during the day to pass time. I don't know why, but somehow watching TV in the middle of the day is a far greater sin than sitting and staring at nothing. Don't ask, I cannot even begin to explain why/where I got that notion from).
Take today. I went to bed early so I woke early. It took the best part of an hour to get up and have breakfast (and I'm only talking about cereal here, nothing exciting). Then following a LOT of arguing with myself, I managed to change the 3 beds, pausing between each with a long pause after. I processed a couple of loads of washing. Pause. Made a half hearted attempt to clean the bathroom. Pause. Showered. Pause.
You get where I'm going. Everything is a monumental effort right now. I'm relieved that Hubby and the kids aren't here so I have the luxury of being so completely inept without having an audience, but at the same time, am feeling massively guilty that they've had to step out for a few days to avoid being reluctant witnesses to my efforts. I also appreciate that there are people reading this who simply cannot comprehend the kind of inability to motivate that I'm talking about, and I'm not sure I can put it in any way that will make it possible to understand. You know when you have the flu, and even turning your head seems like too much effort? That's what it feels like, only without an obvious physical cause, which makes it so much harder to understand. When I got over all my trying and pausing earlier, I took myself out for a walk. It was almost as much effort as running was a few days ago - my legs actually felt weighted down.
On the whole, today has been better than yesterday. Ok, all of the above both took a long time and an infuriating amount of effort, but I have to count them as achivements. The next great debate is work. I cannot decide if it's the right place for me to be right now. Yes, I can sit at my machine and function (albeit at a very low level) but it takes so much effort that there's nothing at all left for home, and I think that maybe some of the anger of the last few weeks is coming from trying to manage that. Should I bow out gracefully now, and take a few weeks to allow the meds to kick in? Or should I keep pushing through and hope for an improvement sooner rather than later? Thoughts on this are much appreciated
|The flip side of my slow pace was that it gave me a chance to admire the scenery and sunshine around Oughterard today|
Labels: emotion, frustration, functioning, guilt, work