Last week was a hard one. I wanted a brain transplant. My depressed brain took over. I didn’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone and I definitely didn’t want to share with you how I was feeling. I was embarrassed. Then I was mad at myself. Here I am writing this blog trying to reduce the stigma of depression and I won’t even share it with you.
I tell myself that if I had written what was going through my head last week I would have scared you off. But I promised you to share with you the bad and good times. I broke that promise.
Last week my depressed brain told me I was a bad mother, wife, sibling, and friend. Why would anyone want to hang out with me? I say the stupidest things. I am fat and lazy. These thoughts paralyze me and cause me to hide out in my house. I have a hard time completing the smallest tasks. Chores get backed up. I cry for no particular reason. It is a vicious cycle.
But, you saw me smile and act like everything was great. I had a medicine my doctor told me to take when I got like this. I took it and the next morning I was bouncing off the walls as manic as I have ever been. I was seeing my doctor that day anyway. She gave me something else to take. I took it that night and could barely function the next day I was so sleepy. SOOOO frustrating.
This past weekend I was “forced” to hang out with my baseball friends due to a tournament. It was the best thing that could happen to me. It helped me to get out of my self in focus on others. I have been stable ever since.
Depression is a wicked disease. We are told all the time of the tools to help us get out of it. But when the chemicals in our brain get so wacked out our depressed brain takes over and tells us all kinds of lies. We can become immune to those activities which will help us. But I did a little bit of something that would help and slowly I was able to think a little more rationally and crawl out of the dark abyss.