Monday 23 September 2013
When my sister heard I gone to see a
psychiatrist, she was flabbergasted. “How can you be seeing a
psychiatrist, nothing is wrong with you?” she asked (or something around that
line). She seemed really pissed off that I had become so Oyibo to the extent of
consulting a mental health specialist. But then, of course, us Naija people
don’t see head doctors unless we are raving mad, which I’m not. So why am I
seeing a psychiatrist? For starters, I got referred to one. The counsellor I
had been seeing thought since I have had a long history of depression, maybe
the specialist needed to shine his torch into my mind. Maybe with diagnosis, I
could receive appropriate treatment. You all know the psychologist had
suspected bipolar disorder, right? Well, that was quickly ruled out. What I
have does not a name. The first psycharist thought it was unexplained depression. The second, who got referred by the community mental health service, after a telephone assessment, thought it's anxiety disorder. But, I would be getting an extended evaluation from them in about a week or so, then I suppose I will get a proper name given to it. Then we begin worrying about treatment, first under NHS (the long waiting list means I might wait a while for
that though) and then when I come back to Nigeria. But, let's worry about that later.
So, what is it like to live with unexplained
depression or perhaps anxiety disorder? Pretty much like normal life when things are normal. Although I don't know how 'normal' normal is when, if you're like me, you're constantly anxious about everything. Anxious that you'll fail, and so you do everything to prevent failure. And then anxious that no matter what you do, you'll still fail nonetheless. So you despair and despair and try to do more things to prevent that. So yeah, that's pretty much as normal as my life is when it's normal. And when it's not normal? Well, that's like living
like shit. Thankfully, like the first psychiatrist noted, I am more
‘not-depressed’ than ‘depressed’, though the depression is pretty regular and
constant to warrant attention and not dismissal. But on a general note, when I’m fine, I’m sort of
jovial (meanwhile, it turns out I have been mistaken for an extrovert. Ha! But
I’ll come back to that later). And when I’m not fine – which lasts about a week
or so – I’m really not fine. It’s difficult for me to recapture what it feels
like exactly, because right now I’m fine. But let me have a go.
Let’s assume that I have been having a rather busy
week. Mentally tasking, requires active interactions with people, and all that.
Yeah, I said I was going to say something about being confused for an
extrovert. This is what is it. I’m very very comfortable with the virtual
world, so that’s pretty understandable. In the normal world, I can psyche myself
into being very friendly and out there. The thing is, it’s such a stress.
Because what I’d really want to do is keep by myself – that’s my comfort zone
(if you overlook a sizeable amount of time I spend worrying that in doing so
I’ve made myself quite unlikeable). Anyway, I hope you can appreciate why a
week interacting with people would drain me. Cos by doing the grown up thing in
putting myself out there, I’m basically moving against the tide and that’s not
easy.
Now, it’s a Saturday after the busy week. I wake up
with a dark cloud over me. I am sapped of very desire to see another human
being. I want to stay in bed and never wake up. If I think about stepping out
of the house or talking to someone, I actually feel physically sick. And for
one week straight, all my thoughts are dark. I think about suicide. I think
about all the nasty things I’d done before. My life feels like complete shit to
me. It’s less about thinking that nobody loves me – it’s more like I don’t love
anybody, including myself. You know, all those dreams and aspirations I always
go on and on about, I just utterly hate them at this point. They taunt me. I’m
convinced they would amount to nothing. Like I have them for the sole purpose
to fail at them. I’m usually highly irritable – the sight of MM and bomboy,
which normally brings me pleasure, just pisses me off. I hate it that they need
me; I hate it that they love me. I just want to be left the fuck alone. But I
can't. I have to find a way to be in this state of mind and yet function
normally – be a wife, a mother, a student, an employee, you name it. I can't
pause the rest of my life while I go through this phase. I have to
self-management it without completely loosing my shit.
Every month, like clockwork, I’ve gone through this
period for years and years. Even when I’m fine, it’s always at the back of my
mind that I could fall into this deep hole again at any day. What’s worse, once
I’m in it, I can’t get out. I fight it and fight it. I cry. MM worries about
me. Fears I’m going to leave him, or harm bomboy. I have never attempted
suicide, no matter how much I think about it. I just look at my son – I hate
that I push him away when am in that state, and I tell myself “just hang in
there, you’ll be fine soon and you make up for it.” But it’s difficult. It’s
difficult living like this. I wonder, would I one day not be able to hold back?
Would I jump into that coming train and get it over with? Yeah, there’s some
comfort I take in knowing that there is a pattern to this. Three weeks out of
four, I’m my usual bubbly self. One very miserable week of depression, yes it
feel awful, but it’s really just for a relatively short time. “I’ll be fine,
I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine,” that’s what I keep reminding myself. And yeah, I
eventually am. Only for it to happen again, but you know.
So, in a nutshell, that’s what living with depression and anxiety is. No, it is not something you snap out it. It helps to talk to friends and
family if they are sensitive and understanding. Although, there’s mostly no
talking involved. Cos once I’m fine, it’s embarrassing to think something like
that actually happened to me – I want to forget it and be normal. And when I’m
in that state, talking is the last thing I want to do. So yeah. I don’t know
about those who say this is part of being a writer. That creative people are
screwed up in the head so they can create. Anyway …
Ciao
i I know u wld ordinarily not want to hear wat I have to say,but I tink u should.u've made it quite clear in d past dat u didn't believe in GOD and
ReplyDeleteWishing you the best with your search for the right treatment.
ReplyDeleteWill say a prayer for you too.
Take a look at the book I recommended on the Bipolar post you put up a while back.
Best wishes.
Late Gate Crasher.........
I also suffer from these from time to time especially when I was single. Most times especially recently am on the brink of depression but when I remember how it usually upsets my hubby, I try to overcome it on my own. He's so good to me, I don't wnt him worrying that he's lacking somewhere.
ReplyDelete