Month: September 2014

Depression and Ambition

Bridge of Sighs, Oxford, UK

         Bridge of Sighs, Oxford, England

I used to be an ambitious person. I was innately motivated to make the world a better place and I enjoyed that motivation. I wanted to accomplish big things and sometimes I got close – anyway I showed some real potential.

The thing about clinical depression and ambition is that depression is such an enormous obstacle that it overshadows all of the other challenges that you might choose to take on. It’s that ass hole at a dinner party who presides over the whole group with inane, infuriating monologues, refusing to be interrupted.

It’s not that I no longer hope to overcome great challenges – it’s just that the great challenge is depression, and it’s taking everything I have.

The truth is I really miss it. I miss the sense of purpose. I miss the drive, the striving for something bigger than myself. I miss believing that I could contribute.

On good days I think – well, all that stuff I accomplished before my diagnosis I accomplished as an undiagnosed major depressive – WHO KNOWS what I can accomplish once I’m recovered.

Most days I just hope to recover.

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Can I Just Say? #7 – The Trouble with the Closet

StigmaThe trouble with the closet is that you have to lie ALL the time. I lie about my day, I lie about why I stopped drinking, I lie about my weight, my social life, my job, my plans.

And the trouble with lying is that it hurts. It makes me feel ashamed. Because lying is something you do when you’re scared to admit something, when you’re ashamed to face it. It makes me feel alone. You know why? Because it makes me more alone. I’m more isolated because people don’t understand, because they can’t understand because I’m lying to them.

Shame and isolation – just what the doctor ordered!

Even my therapist believes that depression is something personal – something to disclose only to close friends and family. I want badly to disagree. I want to rage at the injustice, the silliness. If it were epilepsy, if it were cystic fibrosis or cancer, not only could I tell mere acquaintances, but they might sign a petition about the NIH. My family might organize a fundraiser or participate in a walk-a-thon.

Do you hear what I mean? People might support me. If my disease were different.

As it is I’m advised – by every single person – to keep it quiet.

As it is I’m left lying, using a pseudonym to share my thoughts.

As it is I’m getting tired.

The thing is, guys, that I’m not ashamed. The truth is that I’m not alone.

It’s tricky because you really do run the risk of being stigmatized, being called lazy or irresponsible, incompetent, unreliable. The thing is it’s probably not a good idea to come out as depressed in most workplaces, to most acquaintances. Eugh.

I just want to say that if you feel like it’s wrong, you’re right. And you have no reason to be ashamed. And you are not alone.

Photo by See-ming Lee on Flickr.

One Year On

This is what recovery looks likeToday marks the one year anniversary of the registration of this blog. A few days ago marked the anniversary of my diagnosis of major recurrent depression. It took me months to start actually writing the blog, and about a year to come to terms with the diagnosis – something that now, like so many things, seems inevitable.

One year on I’m well on my way to recovery. I still struggle with daily tasks, but my mind is quieter and I smile more. I cry less and spend more time with friends. I have yet to go dancing. I’ve started, but failed to finish, about a dozen books on depression and have “come out” to about two dozen people. I am less desperate. I am less scared.

It’s been almost two months since I last wrote in this blog, in part because my recovery has me wanting to think about things besides depression. In part it’s because I imagine a deeply depressed reader and feel helpless to help her.

But I want to write.

Recovery comes in fits and starts and so will this blog. But I’m hoping to soon start a series of posts on mindfulness and depression. I hope you’ll join me.

With Profound Thanks,

Mfupi

Photo by Portland Prevention on Flickr.