I’ve sometimes mentioned, in an offhand way, about my struggle with depression. That’s because it’s usually for a short period and I bounce out of it. Whenever I stop blogging for an extended period, unless I’m on vacation, you can pretty much assume I’m in a funk.
This doesn’t necessarily show itself in my daily life, as I can appear to be happy. Each day has its ups and downs, but the ups don’t last nearly as long and the downs tend to infiltrate more and more of my life.
Don’t worry, I can still get out of bed in the morning and function. I’m not restricted in my ability to work or even socialize, for the most part, but any downtime is quickly overcome by darker thoughts.
Persistent eye pain has not helped my mental state. I never knew how difficult living with chronic pain could be, but it does strain the system. I “hit the wall” much sooner each day because I’m already that much closer to it. My hope is that over time I become accustomed to the pain or at least manage it better.
I can relate to the stories of those struggle mentally when they realize they might be limited by a new disease. You may have heard the story of Senator John Fetterman who admitted himself to a hospital for depression after winning a hard-fought seat in Pennsylvania in 2022. He suffered from a stroke a year earlier that impaired his ability to speak and listen.
The hardest period is accepting new life limitations. I never thought, in my mid-forties, I would encounter a major health issue, but – surprise! – it’s not uncommon as one grows older. Although in my case, it had little to do with age but rather a result of corrective eye surgery – I am statistically the one in a hundred who suffer nerve damage.
There’s also something to be said about the decline in life satisfaction in midlife, which I’ve written about before. Average happiness over a lifespan can typically be represented as a U-shaped curve where most people are at the lowest point of the “U” in their late forties. Given my age, I’m hoping to bottom out soon. After sliding downhill for the last five years, I can’t wait to start climbing the other side of the “U” all the way into my 80s! Believe it or not, 80-year-olds are on average happier than people in their 40s.
I tell you this not to garner sympathy but to point to something that many struggle with, and to assure you that you’re not alone. I’ve hesitated to share this because first, I don’t really want the attention, and second, it’s a little... depressing.
In my workplace, we have an ongoing campaign to raise mental health awareness where we can wear pins showing how we’re feeling. This is so fellow co-workers are aware of the struggles you may be going through. I haven’t seen many people wear them, nor have I worn one yet. It’s one thing to wear a pin when having a temporary setback and totally another to have the word “DEPRESSED” pinned to your shirt for four straight months. What are people supposed to do with that? Tell you to go to therapy (which I am)? Try some medication (which I’m considering)?
I realize there are many other ways to overcome depression like physical exercise, social activities, meditation and improving one’s thought-life. Rest assured, I’ve been trying. For the last few months, at least, there’s been only slight progress. But summer is coming...
Yes, summer. Not spring, which tends to be the worst time of year for me – perhaps the after-effect of a long, dark winter – but summer. That’s when vacations begin. Perhaps it’s this disruption in the space-time continuum of regular routine that shakes me out of it. Football helps too. Yes, let’s not forget the therapeutic effects of professional sports – for me, maybe as good as any pill.
A friend of mine swears by his “happy pills” (i.e. anti-depressants) that he says give him a more positive outlook on life. I’ve read a little about anti-depressants and the outcomes are mixed. Sometimes a placebo pill works just as well, but maybe that’s okay too.
My past experience with medication is likely why I’m so hesitant to start again. After being on anxiety medication for nearly ten years, I realized the dosage I had been prescribed by some doctor in my early twenties was so low that its effect was inconsequential. I felt absolutely the same when I quit using them.
I'm sure I’ll swing out of this without the meds, as I normally do (nothing against the meds, I will try them yet). But like I said, summer’s coming.
