Talking ’bout the Weather: Depression

I’ve been a bit MIA from the blog the last few weeks because, unsurprisingly, my depression is kicking up with all the *gestures wildly at the whole damn world* going on. I’m feeling…reasonable?…right now so I thought I’d actually come talk about how I view (and deal with) my depression.

I’m a lifer. I’ve had major depressive disorder most of my life (I think perhaps even as a child, but certainly since my teenage years) and have been medicated for about 70% of that. I first went on meds at 19. I was also diagnosed with type II bipolar disorder in my 30s, but I’ve come to doubt the accuracy of that diagnosis as I’m pretty sure what I thought of as hypomania was, in fact, just me feeling like myself for a while. (Everyone is different, though, so I recommend at least trying to get a proper diagnosis to give you a starting point.)

I’ve done a lot of shadow work and self-examination to identify where my depression came from, but to be honest, that did basically zero to alleviate the symptoms; it just gave me insight and allowed me to approach my treatment in a more useful way. I continue to have depressive cycles that don’t correspond to any particular events or traumatic triggers from the past. I realized that whatever caused my depression, I still have an illness, and I need to treat it as a medical problem while continuing to work on myself mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

In addition to my three prescription medications, I take Omega-3, and D & B vitamin supplements to help steady things in my head. I meditate as much as possible to promote calmer skies. I have tried exercise as a treatment, but I have physical issues (and body image issues) that make it difficult to maintain. I try not to look at my inability to stick to exercise as a failure, but as a “that didn’t work this time, let’s try something different.”

I also use my bullet journal/planner to help keep me oriented and connected to my life – it’s easy when you’re depressed to feel like you’ve become unmoored, and having trackers and a to-do list help remind me that I have goals and things to look forward to and they’re still there even if I’m in a bad way.

I think the most important thing I did for my mental health was the day I connected the concept of the Wheel of the Year with my depressive cycles. Not the Sabbats themselves, but the idea that change is continuous and the seasons roll into each other and back around again, but never sit still. All of nature moves in cycles, and I’m hardly exempt from that.

I decided to treat my depressive cycles as “flare-ups,” not as the end of the world. They tend to last anywhere from 2-6 weeks, but the thing that really matters is knowing they’re temporary. If I approach them as a symptom flare-up like I would with fibromyalgia, IBS, or other conditions, I am better able to keep them in perspective.

When I’m flaring up I try to listen to my body and brain. I pull back on social interaction and sleep a lot, but I’ve tried, and continue to try, not to stop contact with people, just to take a rest from things when I really feel like I need to. I work as diligently as I can to counter negative thoughts with what I know is reality and remind myself I won’t always feel this way. I try not to make major decisions. I watch comfort movies and TV, I don’t police my eating, and above all, I try to be patient with myself.

My mantra for flare-ups is, “I am the sky; the rest is the weather.” I visualize my flare-ups as leaden-grey clouds covering the sky, but even when they look still, they are moving slowly across the vista of my mind. They will eventually break up. The wind will usher them out of view, and I’ll be able to see constellations again.

All the things I do to help myself, from meditation to self-examination, help make the clouds move through faster and gentle the squalls as much as possible. But it’s all still the weather. It still changes over time. As daunting as that idea is sometimes, it also gives me hope.

Weather fronts come and go. But the sky remains, still clear and blue during day and star-flecked at night, even behind the fiercest storms.