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Note: originally published Wednesday 12 July, but fucking Typepad lost the data so it’s being republished out of sync…
I’m theoretically working from home today, but as you can probably tell by the time on this post I’m not exactly getting much done…
There are two, new, little rectangular boxes sat on my dressing table. They contain pills, and one is missing. In case you really don’t know where I’m going with this, I’m back on the anti-depressants, which is depressing. They say if depression recurs it comes back harder and faster, and even knowing that I was not prepared for the speed and force with which I hit the bottom over the weekend. It took, like, four or five months to get to that point last time, and as far as I can tell I’ve only been through two identifiable cycles (one cycle=one up and one down) this time around. And it seems to have tied itself into my menstrual cycle, which definitely didn’t happen last time, and is a new and slightly confusing development.
But if it’s harder and faster, I was (am) absolutely terrified of what might happen next month, or the month after that, if I didn’t start to take the drugs again. For all the negative press, these things really do work (for me, anyway) with very few side effects (for me, anyway), and I have absolutely no shame or reticence in proclaiming that I believe they saved my life last time around. Or, at the least, stopped something nasty from happening. And that’s kind of their raison d’etre. They don’t solve anything and they don’t prevent depression from coming back, but they make it easier to live with and generally just easier to live.
As soon as I move I’ll find myself a decent long-term therapist around Lewisham, something I would have done here at New Year if I was staying put. Because I pretty much know what triggers it; it sounds incredibly naive but I do not understand, on a very fundamental level, what makes people cruel. I. Don’t. Get. It. I don’t understand why some people find it acceptable to walk over others in the pursuit of what they want, to treat others badly if they happen to be in their path. And there’s a thing happening at work, it’s not a thing I can really talk about because I imagine I would get so fired were anyone from work to find this small blog, but it’s the whole general meanness thing again. And it messes with my view of the world as an essentially benign thing (yes, faceless corporations and governments might be unpleasant, but individual people? That I’ve met? How? How does that work exactly?!) and I can’t compute it and my brain fries.
So, I need to re-adjust my world view – which in itself is a horrible thing to contemplate – and that’s going to take time. Especially as I think (as much as anyone can have any concrete theories about how the brain works) that this is something I’ve lived with all my life, to a greater or lesser degree. I suspect that the last time kicked the problem off into a whole new level and there may be repercussions of that for the rest of my life. That’s a cheery thought. But it’s one I arrived at, quite rationally, some time ago. So I need help. But right now, I need drugs.