Depression strikes - Are you Prepared?

Sooo…I didn’t up this morning.

I woke up at ten, when my alarm went off.  I wasn’t really interested in going back to sleep but I didn’t get out of bed.  I didn’t do anything, really.  I just kind of lay there, not thinking, just sort of taking stuff in like my morning backache, the rattling sounds of my roommate cleaning and the neighbours mowing their lawn.  Eventually I was forced to leave the bed when my need to use the bathroom overcame my need to be stationary.  I happened to glance at the clock to find it was already 2pm.

What the… how do I blow four hours by doing nothing at all?  Was I sleeping?  Probably, intermittently.  But usually when someone becomes aware of morning, it does things to them.  It makes them think about food, exercise, clothes.  Start getting ready for work, or if they don’t have work, they remember all the friends and housework they need to catch up on.  This sort of stuff  isn’t moving for me sometimes. 

These episodes of nothingness happen to me a lot, at least once a week.  Even if I have made plans that day I will not be moved until a urinary tract infection threatens, and often receive calls from confused and angry friends and family demanding to know why they have been stood up.  It upsets me that they are upset, and I have no solid reason to placate them with.  But really burns me up that even the concern for people around me isn’t enough to shake me out of these lengthy and, let’s face it, self indulgent episodes of inactivity.

I can’t talk to anyone about it, no one understands.  It sounds so idiotic:

“so you were in bed all morning?”

“yeah.  Just lying there, doing nothing.  Couldn’t get up.”

“why?  Were you sick?”

“no.”

“have a big night out?”

“no”

“did your alarm go off?”

“yes”

“so why couldn’t you get up?

“I just couldn’t.”

“Why not??”

“I. just. Couldn’t.”

Even I’m confused.

I know what causes it, of course.  This happens as the black dog begins to gain on me, getting in close enough to bite.  I start to hear things and think things I normally try to keep my distance from.  He tells me its worthless getting up, because I’m worthless.  I have nothing to contribute.  I’m leaching off the government, no – one likes being around me, people are just putting up with me.  Getting of bed would mean inflicting the burden of my personality on the world, and what on earth did the poor world do to deserve that?

Lately, a combination of severely injuring my ankle and my employment contract ending means logically that I should be prepared for these sorts of feelings to increase.  So I have a plan.  I already have a list of things to do for when I do get up.  It’s quite generic – housework, cook dinner, go over notes, that sort of thing – but I find that having to decide how to fill up my day tends to prolong my episodes.

This plan is a long term one, because depression never goes away.  It can let up for awhile, but having the best job, relationships and drugs will not protect you forever.  So I would be stupid to throw out my list when things turn around for me.  The dog will return, he always does.  He returned today, but I was prepared.  If I wasn’t, I would probably still be in bed.

Voyager