Entry tags:
Betray my other self, the lost hours are over
I was 15 the first time I experienced a bout of depression. In its course, it cost me my friends and my confidence. Every bout since has, one way or another, cost me something too.
I 'realised' when I was 15 there was no point in anything, so I stopped talking and doing much of anything. It all just felt....pointless. My friends begged to know what was wrong, then they bargained with me to reveal my secret, then they got angry at me. When I 'came out' of it, as it were, they asked again. 'Nothing to tell', I said - I felt like my realisation was too awful to share, too absolutely true (like in the Radiohead video!) so I kept it to myself. This made my friends more angry. And then, one day, they cornered me, all 4 of them. And they yelled at me; said I was paranoid and selfish and annoying and worthless and demanded I apologised to them for being those things and upsetting them. I refused, cried, shook and just asked for them to accept the absent answer. But they couldn't, or wouldn't accept that, so they stopped being my friends and for a while I had no friends at all. And that was kind of crap.
I feel like every conflict which has ever arisen between me and those around me as a result of my lurching in and out of depressive periods in the 11 years since then has merely been a more subtle, refined version of that argument. In essence, it's always about the same things; my inability to answer, my being awful to be around during those times, their frustration, and our mutual miscommunication.
These days manic periods provide me with the feeling I am managing to make connections, build bridges and improve my lot. Frequently, in the cold light of day/non-mania, I realise I am just as socially ineffective during these periods and surely more annoying as I dominate conversations and babble away, laughing at my own jokes and interrupting everyone who tries to make a comment. Predictably, this recognition of who I have been over the past few days/weeks brings with it renewed despair and depression.
This Sunday gone I felt it all falling away from me again, just like it did that very first lonely, disorientating time when I was 15, and in fear and panic I deleted my livejournal (for the first time in it's 7 year history, I might add) and my facebook account. It may not have been the best way forward - socially - and these may not be permanent changes, but in the frantic anxiety of the moment it was, and remains, the right decision. A couple of people have passed on messages that some people were worried about my sudden disappearance which, thoughtlessly, I didn't consider or anticipate and for causing that concern I apologise. Right now, I need to run a little.
I 'realised' when I was 15 there was no point in anything, so I stopped talking and doing much of anything. It all just felt....pointless. My friends begged to know what was wrong, then they bargained with me to reveal my secret, then they got angry at me. When I 'came out' of it, as it were, they asked again. 'Nothing to tell', I said - I felt like my realisation was too awful to share, too absolutely true (like in the Radiohead video!) so I kept it to myself. This made my friends more angry. And then, one day, they cornered me, all 4 of them. And they yelled at me; said I was paranoid and selfish and annoying and worthless and demanded I apologised to them for being those things and upsetting them. I refused, cried, shook and just asked for them to accept the absent answer. But they couldn't, or wouldn't accept that, so they stopped being my friends and for a while I had no friends at all. And that was kind of crap.
I feel like every conflict which has ever arisen between me and those around me as a result of my lurching in and out of depressive periods in the 11 years since then has merely been a more subtle, refined version of that argument. In essence, it's always about the same things; my inability to answer, my being awful to be around during those times, their frustration, and our mutual miscommunication.
These days manic periods provide me with the feeling I am managing to make connections, build bridges and improve my lot. Frequently, in the cold light of day/non-mania, I realise I am just as socially ineffective during these periods and surely more annoying as I dominate conversations and babble away, laughing at my own jokes and interrupting everyone who tries to make a comment. Predictably, this recognition of who I have been over the past few days/weeks brings with it renewed despair and depression.
This Sunday gone I felt it all falling away from me again, just like it did that very first lonely, disorientating time when I was 15, and in fear and panic I deleted my livejournal (for the first time in it's 7 year history, I might add) and my facebook account. It may not have been the best way forward - socially - and these may not be permanent changes, but in the frantic anxiety of the moment it was, and remains, the right decision. A couple of people have passed on messages that some people were worried about my sudden disappearance which, thoughtlessly, I didn't consider or anticipate and for causing that concern I apologise. Right now, I need to run a little.