Recovery from depression is an uphill struggle.
I was diagnosed in 2012 and I still to this day class myself as depressed, because relapse is always just around the corner. I know I’m a total downer, right? Well believe it or not, I don’t go around introducing myself as such. “Hi I’m Fiona, and I’m depressed!” isn’t a good conversation starter.
When I’m not writing I spend my days working part-time in a customer service job where I smile constantly at strangers, although I’m mostly faking a cheerful misdemeanour because it’s kind of expected. That’s what recovery is for me – a string of events where I pretend to be one way when I really feel another.
I’ve had various conversations over the years with people who’ve told me to “think positive” and although I believe depression requires very serious medical attention, I do think there is a degree of mind-trickery involved. I’ve spent a lot time in front of the mirror telling myself to get a grip to avoid relapse.
This isn’t what people with depression need to hear by the way, so don’t go saying that to anyone who suffers from a mental illness. But I think I’m allowed to say it to myself now and again, because during recovery there was a large stretch of time where I felt obliged to take control of my life.
It’s a very grey area. It’s a type of limbo where I felt like I was floating aimlessly with my head just above the waves, waiting to be either washed ashore to safety or yanked to the bottom of the seabed at any minute.
On the good days, I make it to the shore and I’m climbing up that hill at a mile a minute. My motivation is unstoppable and I honestly question if I was ever really depressed at all (oh, hi there imposter syndrome).
I climb and climb, trying not to look back and if I do it’s because I’m being reflective and learning from my mistakes. I get to a small peak and take a rest, enjoy the view and shout to others, “Come up, the view is beautiful from up here!”
But sometimes when I’ve been climbing for weeks, maybe even months, I look up and realise that I’m in exactly the same spot as before. I haven’t moved an inch but somehow I’m exhausted from going through the motions. The motions of merely looking like I’m going somewhere.
I’m following my own advice; exercising regularly, eating right, talking to people when I don’t feel like it and pushing through awkward situations for the greater good. I’m taking on extra shifts at work to pay the bills and blogging for free into the night because it might turn into a paid job one day.
It’s in these moments that I look back down into the valley and I see comfort. The thought of just sliding down that hill into a deep, dark depression is so tempting. Relapse is familiar. It’s a warm, soft blanket which envelops me and promises to silence the noise of the outside world. It gives me permission to say “I’m done”, and let someone else bear the load of my lifeless corpse for a while. It lets me give up on this fight which seems to always end with me face-down on the ground, bleeding out and gasping for air.
So when I say a relapse feels painfully good, know that I am not lying. I am not saying it for attention. I’ve been trying to form this feeling into a blog post for over a year and only just felt confident enough to write it, because I know that there’s a truth to what I’m experiencing that others need to hear.
You’re not alone.
For more honest thoughts on depression and recovery read my post on the Metro website (which you can read here)
I can totally relate to this post, as I struggled with chronic depression all my life, or, at least since the age of 5. I often feels like my fight is a lose-lose, climbing that hill and feeling like I’ve got stuck in a time-loop where the climbing is still going, and it’d be so easy to give up to despair.
Somehow, I remain here, floating in mid-air, sometimes feeling slightly better, and then a relapse before I even get out of the muck knows me down and I have to start over.
On the other hand, support from friends, and reading others’ experiences with depression (and any mental illness) has shown me that I wasn’t alone, and that it worth fighting to get better.
I love that you write so powerfully and honestly , and hope that your recovery will improve. Always a DM away if you need to chat
I love your description also, it’s nice to know that although we often feel alone in our personal struggles there are others feeling exactly the same x
Absolutely true. And the slide downhill is sometimes so sudden and rapid that I don’t see it happening until I back in the pit.
Thanks for this.
Hi Fiona, you’re very brave and very honest, and you write powerfully and beautifully about how you feel. I am lucky not to have to fight against depression, but your courageous attitude inspires me, and I’m sure that your words are an inspiration to many other readers too. Keep writing.
Thank you!
“Relapse is familiar. It’s a warm, soft blanket which envelops me and promises to silence the noise of the outside world. It gives me permission to say “I’m done”, and let someone else bear the load of my lifeless corpse for a while.”
Wow! What a powerful, honest blog post. For those of us with mental illness, it can be such an exhausting task to make yourself do the things you know you should do, when it would be so easy to just let go and give in to temptation of sinking back to the depths of your sickness.
I think this is where community comes in. It’s why it’s so important to have people in your life who can help carry the weight of the fight sometimes. Thanks for sharing this.
Totally agree Lauren! Have you joined our Facebook group? It’s a small but very supportive groups of people trying to get stuff done with depression. We’d love to have you!
I needed to read this right now. I am totally in a depression relapse, trying to get myself to do the ‘normal’ everyday things like eating, bathing, going to work is such a struggle. I was climbing for about a year, and now I’m stuck in the mud. I’m looking back on all that was accomplished during the climb, and I feel like I didn’t do all that, someone else did. Thanks for writing and sharing with honesty.