This post may not make much sense. I don't know. I just got home from seeing my psychiatrist and I have a whopping headache, right above my left eye. I can't concentrate.
Let's talk about my appointment with my psychiatrist Dr. M. I like Dr. M. I trust him. I think he does a good job. But sometimes I don't think he really hears me. Like today. He told me that he thinks I'm doing better than I have been in a long time. That I'm not having extreme ups and downs. I still may be cycling, but I'm stable. I'm stable.
Which, you know what, that's true I guess. I'm not having extreme ups and downs. I'm manageable right now. But I am still cycling, mostly with depression. I'm swimming just below the surface, trying desperately to break through to gasp for air. But it's not happening. The surface is frozen solid and I'm trapped below, slowly losing my steam.
To most people I seem fine. I seem normal. Maybe even like my old self, albeit a little quiet. This is because I'm pretending. I'm putting up a facade that everything is okay. People expect it to be. So they look past the quietness, they look past the blank stares and the vacant look in my eyes. My hubby can tell, as can my close friends. But most people can't.
Most days I'm empty and emotionless. Numb. A husk of who I should be. I have a flat affect and I have to pretend to have feelings to fit in. I even pretend around my hubby because I don't want him to have to deal with me like that day in and day out. Sometimes, I'll even have real feelings. Sadly though, they're not good ones. They're hopelessness, despair, dread, sadness, guilt, and shame. All the feelings of "real" depression.
I explained this to Dr. M and he kind of dismissed it. He said that yes, I'm cycling, but to hang in there and it would get better. Hang in there and it will get better?? I've been in this current down cycle for 4 freaking months! When? When is it going to get better? Of course he can't answer that question. I asked about uppers and he said no. He was worried that 1. they could make me manic, and 2. they could make my depression worse.
Great.
Flailing desperately below the surface appears to be as good as it gets for me.
It'a a damn good thing I'm stubborn.
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