Living with the Stranger Within
Moods, meds, and agency
As a woman who descends to depression for a couple of days every month as part of my premenstrual woes, I’ve become familiar with the stranger within. I welcome her, including the migraines she brings. And the darkness. Yes, the darkness that other people who are clinically depressed are very familiar with.
In my case, at least, I can expect the dark cloud to lift, and its comings and goings can be calendared along with meetings and deadlines. Under the cloud, I know enough to not decide on anything I might later regret. As a teacher, for example, I don’t grade during this time. But I’ve also learned to live with it that I can deliver lectures or facilitate discussions like it’s a regular working day — as long as I can arrange for some me-time afterwards, to cry alone in the car, to take a solo walk, or an evening swim.
Living with this monthly moody stranger made me a more sensitive teacher, I think, because I could spot students who need to see a therapist. I’ve had students break down in front of me — usually graduating students — and I could tell whether the anxiety in full display was something that needed medical intervention or not.
I can’t explain it, I just know it when I see it. Most of the time, whenever I send a student to psychology services, my hunch is correct.
