I have dealt with depression for as long as I could remember. My entire family is ridden with mental health problems. I’m no stranger. A diagnosis of Major Depressive Disorder has been suggested but not yet verified. (Finally have more appointments coming up next week.) They think a combination of depression and symptoms of PTSD have caused me to depersonalize. I’ve had Depersonalization since July 28th of 2015.
Some things set off a deeper depressive episode than others and the worse the episode is, the worst the DPD is. One of my biggest triggers happens to be my immediate family. I love my family and that is why I cannot live with them. A couple of weeks ago I moved out of my house with my parents and moved in with my Aunt, Uncle, and cousin. I’ve been back to my parents home a couple of times since the move. The last time I was there was when I was tutoring my mother and sister in psychology for their classes. It was a good time of laughs and no stress.
I went back to that house last night to check my mail. (Haven’t gotten the address changed yet.) Upon doing so I ran into my Mom. It was nice to see her. However I’ve been dealing with my depression again lately. I received rough news about my chances at finishing my college degree and so my depression and anxiety kicked in full force for a couple of days while I was ruminating and worrying about the future. After a few meditation sessions I was able to remain more mindful again. I feel as though I have to walk on egg shells with my Mother though. We butt heads so much due to her flaws and due to mine. I NEVER wanted that kind of relationship with my mom and it kills me that’s where we are at. I love her more than she’ll ever know, but it’s hard to talk to her sometimes. Last night instead of holding back and not updating her on all the things going on in my life I told her. I wanted to tell my Mom what things were happening and get almost an unspoken smile of approval. It worked out that way for a little while and then she got back to her ways. After a few minutes she started making me feel bad about my aunt whom I live with now. She heard only what she wanted from our conversation and spun it to play victim in a scenario that didn’t even happen. I can’t handle that behavior right now. I’m not at a place yet where I can tolerate it.
So naturally I left the house and started crying as soon as I was alone in the dark in my car. After the first tear fell, my head started spinning and I had a million thoughts per second. I was entering panic attack mode. Thankfully I steered back from that and got back to my Aunt’s and enjoyed a night talking with her.
The part of this that isn’t so glamorous is this:
The crying was physically painful. My head was pounding. I thought I was going to have an aneurysm. My chest hurt. My throat hurt because I was getting sick. I cried makeup off my face that I had on from the day. After a long night of the empty, hopeless, rather-be-dead, feeling in the pit of my stomach it lightened up. I talked with my Aunt for a couple hours, reminiscing on memories from childhood or of my grandmother who passed away. I calmed down and the urge to cry disappeared. I wasn’t planning on taking a shower, but once I was able to have more of a grip on my depression I was well enough to take a shower and get cleaned up. Fresh. New.
But this is the face after depression.
After my shower last night.
Fully raw photo. No filter. No special lighting. No makeup. Puffy and super dark under eyes. Blemishes. Uneven skin texture and tone. Bloodshot eyes. Towel wrapped around my hair. THIS is the reality.
But this is ALSO recovery. This is what recovery looks like. Getting your shit together enough to clean up and get in the shower and take care of yourself.
It’s not easy, but it’s worth it to fight.
Peace, love, and light to my readers.