I get down sometimes. In fact, I'm starting to realise I get down a lot. I never thought of it as depression. I don't get the hopelessness and despair. I never, ever get suicidal thoughts. I always have hope there lurking at the back of my mind, sometimes bright and sometimes dim. I am a negative thinker. Always worrying. Often getting down about things in life. I'm also very emotionally reactive to things. Good things get me really high and happy. Bad things send me down into worry and my hope fades to a tiny, dim glow that I almost don't believe in anymore. I feel down and worried, then I go out and talk to someone interesting and friendly and I feel quite good, then I'm back on my own at home and feeling that my task list is too bloody enormous and feel the pressure and stress, then I phone some nice person in my life and up goes my mood again. Then a 2 hour Zoom creative class gives me a great feeling of being validated for my writing and my depth of thinking, then I get swamped by frustration about health worries and down goes my mood again.
I'm down more than I'm up, but the down is not the classic depression, it's frustration, worry, stress, loneliness, feeling barriers to the things I want to do in life. There is someone I love but I can't have him. That's OK, I never in my life have got together with the men I really, really feel for. The guy is beautiful to me. He is just a little bit more than half my age, is completely unavailable. What does that matter when I know I could never have love in my life anyway? Even if things were different the reality would get in the way of the fantasy that my loving feelings rely on to exist. Still, talking to him is the most beautiful thing in the world, better than any medication I can imagine.
I know I do suffer from anxiety, though I stay away from doctor diagnoses. Every time I've been put on mood controlling medication (only twice) I've suffered enormously from the side effects. One whacked up my anxiety 1000-fold, that was 30 years ago. The other increased my heartrate to about 150 per minute. (First time that happened I called the ambulance.) Stuff that!
I am old enough to remember when doctors would give benzodiazepines (like valium, librium, tranxene; I was in love with tranxene!). Those were so lovely. 20 minutes and the bliss would descend, all the worries and cares would evaporate. Yes, I still remember. Now they are afraid of bloody lawsuits, they say, "you'll get addicted", so give us other things instead which overflow with side effects. No bloody thank you.
Needed to write this. Need to reach out to other people. I get so god damn lonely.
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