Self Medication

So, about half of this was written last night, but since I literally fell asleep sitting up, with nothing to lean against and my fingers on the keyboard, I guess I'm doing another two-day post.

Yesterday was a much better day. After writing my last blog, my amazing boyfriend cuddled me until I fell asleep, which all by itself helped to push away the numbness. I slept in until nearly 8am (oh for the days when waking before 8 was an early day), went to game with friends at 11:30am, saw a play (Romeo and Juliet) with those same friends at 2pm, and joined other friends at 5pm to watch American Gods. Overall, lots of time spent with good friends, good food, and good conversation.

Best of all, I was able to engage and enjoy all of it.

This is what I refer to as my self-medication. I am not using drugs, alcohol, or other mind altering substances, but large doses of social interactions seem to help stave off the worst of my depression. One of my first symptoms is usually a sense of isolation, so I tend to pack my days off with as many activities as I can stand.

When I first discovered this trick, I was seeking the company of others because I did not wish to be alone. More accurately, I did not trust myself to be alone, because I had already had one very elaborate self-harming fantasy. In college, surrounding myself with my friends as much as possible was a defense mechanism, a way to keep myself from following through with the fantasies. Once I had gotten out of that initial pit, I discovered that regular doses of social interaction (anything from cuddles with my significant other to watching a movie with friends) stabilized my mood noticeably and kept me from drifting too far into negative spirals.

As much as social activity can overwhelm me when my depression is bad, it is also one of the most useful tools I have to remain functional.

Today, thanks in part to the high I am still riding from yesterday, I was able to give my roommate a ride to a convenience store before taking her to work, take my partner to the doctor's office and help him manage his phobia of needles while he got blood drawn, and make two important phone calls I had been putting off for at least a week each. These may seem like minor things, but the fact that I could do all of them in a single day (even a day I don't work) feels like a major victory. Especially when last Monday a short trip to the DMV (I literally only waited in line long enough to get to the service counter and find out that I needed to track down another piece of paperwork) was almost more than I could handle and triggered two minor anxiety attacks.

Part of me is terrified to realize that it takes a "good day" for me to be able to handle a normal number of tasks for a functioning adult, and what that means for how deeply and frequently my depression is affecting me. Part of me is triumphant that I can still get to this point at all, that I have not given up the daily struggle. And then there's Jerk Brain, trying to convince me that this dichotomy is a sign of a fundamental personality flaw, that I am worthless trash who doesn't deserve to celebrate the good days because I should be able to function this well every day.

As usual, I try to ignore Jerk Brain.

I am lucky that this is the form of self-medication I stumbled upon. I have heard far to many stories of people with mental illnesses trying to self-medicate with alcohol, or tobacco, or any of half a dozen illicit drugs. I am eternally grateful to all my friends and relatives who simply by their presence have helped me to keep afloat for so long.

Thank you all, for walking this path with me.