Self-Isolation is Making My Depression Worse
The walls in my room keep on getting smaller.
Depression is a subject we all have a story on. If it doesn’t affect us, it inhibits someone we care about. The symptoms can be as simple as not getting out of bed, or they can reach the severity of not wanting to continue living. To be afflicted with this illness is a life sentence, there is no cure and the treatment is in a constant state of flux.
There are steps one can take in life to keep depression in a measured state - hope always exists in dire situations. Ever since my diagnosis in 2012, I have developed a series of coping mechanisms to both recognise a depressive episode and take steps to combat it.
I am grateful to have received support from the people who care about me over the years. When I’ve been at my lowest, I have had things to fall back on. Rock bottom is something I’ve stared in the face more than once and it’s a state from which I have been pulled out of.
Unfortunately, for myself and the hundreds of millions of people with clinical depression, a new battle awaits. The COVID-19 strain of Coronovirus has dominated the cultural sphere these last few weeks. Every news update, Facebook status, tweet, work and college email has something to say about it.
The uniform solution has been called upon: self-isolation. Whether you’ve been tested or not, avoid inessential contact. Some quarantines have been enforced while others are recommended. Regardless, self-isolation is now a reality for many of us.
This is a barrier I never thought I’d have to deal with. All of my coping mechanisms are being chipped away. Getting out of bed, showering and getting dressed is difficult to justify. I don’t have to be anywhere, there’s nobody to impress. Am I feeling lonely? I can’t call my friends and head to the pub, nor can I join my Dungeons & Dragons crew for a quick campaign.
All the social stimulation that helps me is gone. I can’t even go to the places I feel safe anymore. Book stores? Forget about it. A lovely, independent coffee shop? Not if I don’t want to potentially spread my illness to someone’s croissant. I am now confined to a small room, my friends delivering care packages of food and soap to me with all too brief interaction.
I refuse to be selfish, I am ill. I don’t want to be the guy who gives a potentially deadly virus to a vulnerable person, all because I wanted to play some board games with my mates. I believe I’ve made the right choice, but it’s going to be a severe detriment to my mental health.
There is no way I can speak for every person wrestling with depression, it doesn’t affect any two people the same way. However, I want to express solidarity with my fellow sufferers, because a long, difficult road lies ahead.
Every day that goes by, I feel that little bit lonelier. The warmth of a hug or even a high five has been taken from me. The motivation to be productive throghout the day is strained. Why shouldn’t I lie in bed all day? Why should I bother to eat or drink? Why anything? These are the intrusive thoughts that worm their way into my head without reproach.
If you’re fortunate enough to not be clinically depressed, spare a thought for the ones who are. Most of my days are spent finding ways to plug the emotional hole within me, I am now confined to a box. This self-imposed solitary confinement has stripped away the love that has held me up for so long. I know that I will eventually come through, but depression denies me the right to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
To everyone out there in a similar situation: I am with you and always will be, we have to come together more than ever before.
