The Not-So-Great Depression

After a very long delay, I am finally back at it. I seem to unintentionally have taken a premature hiatus from this blog. After only writing one post? What is up with that? I know, I know… Call it writer’s block, if you will. In all honesty, I had originally planned to discuss skincare (that’s still coming–no worries). However, I completely lacked the motivation to cover that topic. I wanted to write about something that rang true for me in this very moment, so I’m writing this instead.

A couple months ago, I started to feel a little better. I began Marie Kondo-ing my apartment and life. I was doing my best to declutter everything, both physically and mentally. My closet had looked neater than it had in ages; my skincare cabinet was organized and categorized. I was doing better. I regularly worked out in the gym and had started to develop an actual sleeping pattern. I was doing better.

Then I wasn’t. Again. I found myself going down the rabbit hole. Again. You see…there’s this annoying tendency my brain has, in which it takes me on a little, dark joy(less) ride. Intrusive thoughts invade and permeate me until they finally reach a peak. This time, the result was a little more serious. In a desperate attempt to escape my own head for a while, I ended up succeeding beyond my expectations. Let’s just say that stress, sleep deprivation, and binge drinking do not mix well.

After careful deliberation and with much reluctance, I’ve decided to go back into therapy. Why my hesitation, you might ask. Well, I am no stranger to getting “shrunk.” I had spent countless hours of my childhood, teenage years, and early adulthood getting therapy for anxiety and OCD. It had taken a long time to find someone whom I actually liked and felt comfortable around. Once I’d found the right fit, things started to actually improve. After undergoing years of cognitive behavioral therapy, or CBT, I was practically a new person. I was able to finally get off of medication, and keep my anxiety relatively under control by myself. The compulsions had lessened to a tolerable extent. I was doing better.

Although I have gained much more control over my compulsive urges, my intrusive thoughts and clinical depression have only gotten worse. It’s as if they decided to “replace” my other psychological symptoms. Still, the decision to restart therapy was not made lightly. As I already mentioned, finding the right therapist took a long time the first go-around. It’s a bit intimidating, starting the whole process again with someone different. Also, it has been well over a decade since I’d ended my sessions. This is not where I wanted to be at this point in my life. This is not how I pictured my thirties. I thought I’d put all of that behind me. I guess it’s true what they say; life really does throw you curveballs. Now I just have to figure out how to work this bat and win this game.

I don’t want this to be the elephant in the room. I’d spent so many years of my life trying to hide my disorder before I even had known it was a disorder. Now more than ever, I believe it is so important to be able to openly discuss mental health. It’s the only way we can remove the stigma attached to it. I have yet to go to my first appointment, but it is booked. In the meantime, I will swallow my pride and accept the fact that this illness may be beyond my control. Here’s hoping this goes well. I’ll let you know.