24/7 Sylvia Plath

Erin asked me a couple weeks ago when or if I would ever blog it up again. Katie asked if I had posted recently because she didn't want to miss it. I always answer "I want to" but when you are depressed it's so hard to literally get out of bed each day let alone spend hours upright typing your heart out. 

It's been exactly a year since I've posted here; a place that I used to frequent multiple times a week. A place where I could organize my thoughts, vent, share my adventures, and get creative is now a bit of a stranger. And I mean that figuratively and literally. The blogger site looks a lot different these days but don't we all since March 2020. I thought about posting here so many times. I thought about it when we got our covid shots, every time I added a new 'Dustin Says' to my notes app, and every celebration/night out since April. But writing takes energy I don't really have these days. 

At the time of my last post I was already in a deep depression that had been building since the beginning of the pandemic. Then my cousin died and it really just sent me spiraling. I only went to work (we were back in the office by August) and came home and slept. Repeat. Weekends were spent at home since the pandemic was still raging and vaccines were only a hope mentioned in article after article with headlines like '____ Seeking Full FDA Approval'. No parties or restaurants or vacations. All I did from March 2020 - March 2021 was work and sit around my house while following all the ding dang dong CDC guidelines as the true rule-follower that I am. The only friend I saw was Katie and that was masked and/or distanced and the infrequency was the worst of our entire 17 year friendship.

I was sleeping more than ever because depression is so draining mentally which in turn drains you just as much physically. I was constantly suffering from fatigue, muscle aches, and joint pain on top of all the sadness and hopelessness. I have struggled with depression on and off since I was 11. It is not new. It's actually incredibly familiar. It's like an annoying toxic friend that comes and goes as she pleases. But this time has been different in both the darkness and length. 

I had been on Lexapro since I was 30. It was incredibly helpful with both depression and anxiety but I had gained a lot of weight on it and since I was feeling really good my doctor OK'd me to wean off of it which just so happened to be the week before the world went to shit. I nervously laughed about the irony of it all but lockdown was only going to be 2 weeks, maybe a month tops. Insert eye-roll here. 

So I tried to tough it out by myself for as long as I could but then by late fall I finally reached back out for help. This time I was put on Zoloft. My psychiatrist started off with the smallest dose and then eventually I made my way to the highest. I was still feeling depressed but at least now I was able to move my body (I closed every Apple Watch ring EVERY DAY for 6 months straight) and simple tasks didn't feel like such chores or make me cry anymore. It all felt like progress albeit slow progress. I still wasn't really enjoying any previous hobbies other than reading and even then it took me 3x as long to finish a book. Depression makes focusing so difficult. My brain wanted to do all the things I once loved (The Sims, crafting, *blogging*, etc) but my body just couldn't. So I didn't. I went easy on myself and only did what I could which was watch TV and take 2 months to read one book. 

Once I got my first shot in March (almost exactly a year from the shutdown) I really started to see a light at the end of the tunnel. I even went to my first restaurant outside in a year to celebrate Katie's birthday. It was weird and normal all at the same time. Then a month later I was fully vaccinated and I got to see even more of my people in real life. I got to hug them and those interactions really filled up my cup. They were everything. From that moment hope propelled me forward...for awhile. I'm not sure if its my seasonal depression (summer is a bummer) mixed with my regular depression mixed with the weight of this garbage fire of a world mixed with covid cases on the rise (thanks you unvaccinated jerks!) or what but I crash and burned. I wasn't naive enough to think we'd all just go back to normal but I didn't expect getting back to my old self would ever be this hard either. Things were really better. 

Narrator voice: Things were not better. 

Not with covid. Not with the world. And not with me. 

I am truly in the darkest place I've ever been even with all the progress I thought I was making. I envy those who have moved about their lives unaffected physically or mentally by this global pandemic. It must feel so nice. It must feel so light to be them. I keep going because I hope to one day feel this weight lift off of me. I cried at work earlier this week. Just big rolling tears for no reason and every goddamn reason. I cried the second my psychiatrist asked me "How are you doing?" during today's appointment. Just full on sobbing. "Uhh not great." I answered. Probably the understatement of the year. 

But I continue on.
With therapy. 
With meds. 
With friends. 
With family. 

I hope to be more active here, not for anyone but myself, but I can't make promises. This felt good to type out even if it did take me 2 days to do so. 

Here's my mental health playlist if you're also feeling all the feels. If I'm missing any songs relating to mental health please send them my way as music is it's own therapy for me.