Dear Dad,
You and I have been heading towards this for a while now, and I think it’s time to just grab the bull by the horns. It’s time for your daughter to sit you down and explain why she’s been such a pain for six years or so. I know you don’t understand psychology very much, so I’ll try explain as I go so you don’t get lost.
Last April, my psychologist looked me in the eye and told me that I am suffering from something called Persistent Depressive Disorder- a disorder characterised by a depressive state that has lasted for at least two years. Now, in psychology, they don’t throw around the word “depression” lightly. You have to have the symptoms of depression for a while, and they have to occur almost every single day. These symptoms can include:
- Poor or unnaturally increased appetite
- Trouble sleeping or feeling excessively lethargic
- Depressed mood
- Low self-esteem, poor confidence, thoughts of worthlessness or hopelessness
And the thing is, they have to happen a lot. And that’s just to have normal major depressive disorder! Imagine having PDD and having almost every day for six years be like this. Imagine going months where every day you can’t fall asleep for hours, but when you finally can you often only sleep for an hour or two and then wake back up again. Imagine staring at the ceiling, praying and begging God to give you one night of sleep. Eight measly hours. Imagine sleeping in the same room as your sister and hearing her snore and just crying because you wish it was that easy.
But the thoughts, it’s like I can’t stop them sometimes. My mind likes to do this thing where it analyses every single thing I’ve done- good or bad (usually bad)- and plays that on repeat. It’s every time I put my foot in my mouth, every time I said something that really hurt someone, and every time that I failed a test or assignment. It roots through even the farthest of memories and holds them up to me, reminding me of my mistakes.
And then it uses those mistakes, those failures, to tell me why I’m stupid, why I’m worthless. It corners me to the one place I can’t escape- my own head. It traps me there, looking at all these things through blue-coloured goggles and tells me that it’s no wonder why I was always the bad guy when all the kids played together. My mind reminded me that I am the bad guy. What love people show me is more than likely faked out of obligation or not deserved.
Imagine living like that for six years. Every single interaction you have, you wait for them to realise that you’re nothing. You’re just a freak in sheep’s clothing. You wait for them to notice that you don’t fit in at all. All the while, your brain keeps track of everything you do wrong, collecting to use for later when you’re trying to fall asleep.
When I do get sleep, I sleep for a while. It’s the other side of the sleep coin. No longer do I have trouble staying asleep, but it’s like no amount of sleep is enough. I could have woken up at the opportune time of my REM cycle (the cycle of your brain waves go through as you sleep- the best time to wake up is in the beginning of the cycle) and still feel like I haven’t slept in six months. Naturally, this doesn’t help my mood at all. It’s often why I’m so cranky.
One of the reasons why I’m introverted is because socialising is so exhausting. After all, once my anxiety kicks in, the entire interaction is spent worrying about slipping up by overthinking every facial expression or body language alteration and interpreting it as me annoying that person. I keep thinking about all the ways I need to not look like a loser while I’m talking to them. With kids, it’s about not looking like a jerk and perhaps being “cool” for once. I want to be nice, but it takes so much energy that I fall apart after maybe an hour of interaction.
I think now would be the time to explain to you how all this started, with psychology terms and actual facts.
You see, coming from a family that has a history of mental illness, I was born with genetic markers- actual parts of my DNA that makes me more likely to suffer a mental illness. (There are genetic markers for mental illness, addiction, etc) I could have gone my entire life without ever having a mental illness, despite the markers. They just mean that I’m more inclined to develop it.
However, life didn’t work that way. In middle school, I was too weird to fit in, and that lead to bullying. It lead to me being on the outside. I also realised that I’m not as straight as I thought in middle school, and that those feelings I’d been misinterpreting for years as a strong desire for girls to like me as a friend were actually romantic feelings. That’s not to mention all the other stuff that I went through. However, that’s a long story, and we’re not here for that.
Stressful situations are wonderful for switching on genetic markers for mental illness. Why? Because mental illness is usually characterised by a chemical imbalance. It makes perfect sense that if your brain is releasing the neurotransmitter dopamine (a chemical in the brain that controls multiple things such as stress, happiness, sleep, and even appetite) at excessive rates for a long time, then this could permanently affect your brain. So, if you are already inclined towards mental illness, it just means that you’re a ticking time-bomb, waiting for the right amount of stress to put you on the path to depression.
Dopamine doesn’t work alone either. Serotonin also helps with hunger and stress and all that good stuff. So, if you have one chemical in charge of all that messed up, it’s quite possible the other will be affected as well.
Obviously, this does not end well for the person with depression. The idea of “mind over matter” only works if you mind isn’t the matter. You can’t fight it if it’s on the inside, clouding your thoughts.
Depression and anxiety are insidious. They’re parasites feeding off the host. They take your time, your energy, and then leave behind the husk. It’s like Luna said in The Order of the Phoenix movie, “Well if I were You-Know-Who, I’d want you to feel cut off from everyone else. Because if it’s just you alone you’re not as much of a threat.” Depression is Voldemort, in that respect. If it can make you feel like you’re a burden or that no one really wants to talk to you, then you’re less likely to reach out for help. You’re left alone, and then there’s no chance of you ever beating it.
My current therapist- Lori in the Counselling Centre- says that I’m almost hypocritical with myself. I say things to myself that I could never imagine telling you or Autumn or the kids. I call myself stupid and fat and worthless and a monster. I tell myself that I’ll die alone, that no one in their right mind would ever fall in love with me. I start each friendship with the disclaimer in my mind that I shouldn’t get attached because soon this one will get tired of me and then they’ll leave me, too.
Is it any wonder then, why I snap? Is it so unbelievable that I sit alone in mine and Autumn’s room, away from everybody? I think, in some way, it’s to ensure that I don’t screw up so horribly that I make you all hate me and refuse to ever see me again. I know it’s not rational, and I’m sure my frustrated temper gets on your nerves at the time. Still, it’s my defence. Sometimes I snap on purpose, at people in school or at you. That way you’ll hate me on my terms. How messed up is that?
I’m sure you’ll think my plans to get an emotional support animal are just me being a “special snowflake,” and that you’re still surprised why I sunk so low a few weeks ago, but maybe this explains it a little better. I’m literally not quite right in the head, and living like that, untreated, for five years until I started seeing my therapist at home last January can mess you up. It changes how you think, how you see yourself. It creates a filter that I can’t just alter. It’s a filter that I’m always afraid you and everyone else that I love will see through when you look at me and what I do, too.
Photo Sources:
http://www.womansday.com/health-fitness/wellness/a55608/things-nobody-te…
http://blog.ed.ted.com/2016/02/10/5-ways-you-can-help-a-friend-suffering…