depression is a bitch.

Everyone gets “down”, or “sad”, or “melancholy”, but few (10% of adult Americans — http://buff.ly/1rSdqvx) have experienced clinical depression. I’m glad it’s that few, because — it sucks.

Clinical depression is not “the blues”, or “sadness” — it’s anhedonia — a complete lack of interest in — anything. Food, activity, thought, sex, reading — anything. At first it feels kind of peaceful, especially if you are coming off a manic binge. Then you can’t think. Or move much. Or gin up any interest in much of anything. You lay around all day, maybe with short bursts of semi-motivation, and then — sleepless nights. Leading to more lethargy.

It’s treated with anti-depressants, and layers of SSRIs on top of them, but for me — and I have only been clinically depressed once — it took a series of ECT to pull me out of it. That was a long eight months of not getting off the couch to do anything. I don’t even really remember it; it was just a haze.

I’m writing about this because I feel it coming on, I feel it sinking in. It started with a flip from happy-happy mania to irritability and mood lability, and now…the sinking feeling. It does no good to talk to a therapist about this, or anyone, really; I just write to help myself, maybe help others, recognize that this is happening, and that I need to try to do something about it before it sets into my bones, rendering me useless. I made an appointment with my psychiatrist for this Thursday (I don’t even know what day today is) — but he’s not a great doctor, he’s more the type where you just walk in and tell him what meds you want. As in, the typical.

So now I have to research meds, and educate myself on how to best treat this; nip this in the bud. You have to be an active participant in your healthcare, at least I do, and I have so much on my plate I cannot afford to be benched for another eight months by stupid mood disorders.

Physician, heal thyself.