A Darkness Within

Most of the topics in my blog posts so far have been fairly easy, even fun to write about. But the one I want to tackle now is very difficult to articulate because it makes me feel so vulnerable. It has to do with my recurring episodes of clinical depression, one of which I'm experiencing now. In writing about this painful chapter of my life, I'm battling my own feelings of shame and inadequacy. The negative messages that come my way when I'm depressed, tell me that no one wants to hear this stuff. Intellectually, I know this isn't true, that many people suffer from depression, that it is a very common mental illness, and that there's a lot of information about it. But when it comes to experiencing it myself, I feel that it's not O.K. to talk about, and that I need to hide it from others until I feel better again. I sincerely hope that, by writing this, people will have a better understanding what happens to me when I'm in the middle of one of my episodes.

So, here are some of the things I go through when the darkness descends upon me, when the monsters of my illness threaten to devour me. I want to stay in bed all day and all night. I spend all my time listening to the radio or watching T.V. I dread the sound of the ringing phone. I don't want to answer it , so I let my answering machine take all my messages. I don't want to check my emails because someone may want me to respond, and do something for them. So they pile up until I'm inundated with an overwhelming barrage of unanswered messages. I don't want to talk with anyone. I'm scared of leaving my apartment because I might run into someone. I want to avoid people at all costs. Daily tasks become impossibly difficult -- like going shopping, cleaning my apartment, washing clothes, cooking, even brushing my teeth, and taking a shower.

I don't want to call anyone to tell them what I'm going through. When I do manage to venture out of my apartment to attend church or go to a social gathering, I completely shut down. Since I have nothing to say, I wonder what will people think of me. I quit doing all the

activities I enjoyed doing when I was feeling good. I quit listening to music, I quit playing my banjo and autoharp. I quit writing in my journals. I quit going out or walks. I quit going swimming at the Y. My entire world shrinks down to the confines of my apartment. The only person I feel safe talking with is my therapist.

Yes, these are but a few of the things I go through when I'm in the middle of a depressive episode. I realize that there are no easy answers out there, no quick fixes. Yes, there are a lot of things I've learned to use over the years to battle my illness: from therapists, therapy and support groups, mental health providers, DBT classes, etc, But taking action always requires a huge effort when I'm stuck in a bad place. In the past, I've eventually found a way to extricate myself from the morass of my illness, to emerge into a better place again. But as often as not, I don't even know how I did it. In any case, there are no guarantees, no easy solutions. It is what it is.