When Depression Helps you Set up Camp and Stay There

I wrote about my depression a few weeks ago.  Many people were hugely supportive, and all those kind words helped.

I am not all better. I still haven't seen a Doctor, and it's really just a self-defeatist attitude, and a almost Freudian forgetfulness that makes it that much easier to procrastinate. Thing is, I'm not miserable all the time.  I'm not unhappy all the time.

I had an amazing birthday. I was already having a good day,  then so many friends sent me birthday wishes through twitter and Facebook that it made the day that much more wonderful. I was really surprised, and grateful, that so many people stopped long enough to type a few words. the whole week went by in a blur.
I am lucky to have friends, who at the very least, are there to tweet and text almost any time of day. I'm lucky to have a fantastic family, a husband who is incredibly perfect for me. A beautiful daughter who is very well behaved, despite inheriting her mother's tendency toward weirdness. I have tons of extended family there to talk, to help, to support me.
I am so very fortunate to have all of these things.

Yet it doesn't fix my brain. It doesn't keep the depression from creeping in and making me unhappy in spite of all the things I am grateful for. Sometimes the very nature of depression makes it easier to be angry with myself, because I should be enjoying my life. I should be happy with what I have, and I shouldn't waste so much time on mindless pursuits that I'm only doing to stave off the weariness.

I compared depression to being lost in the swamps. The thing about being stuck in the mire, is that everytime you fall in the quicksand, nearly drown in the bog, or get mauled by an alligator, you have to retreat. You lose ground, you lose time. Instead of being able to push forward with your life, you feel like you're never making progress.

For me, it starts to become a pattern, the depression creeps up and mires me in place, and after so many tries to do something ambitious, to succeed, and after so much failing, it's easier to not try anything. That's one of the things I hate the most.

If the job is easy, perhaps tackling a load of laundry, or baking a tray of cookies, I'll take it one, and then congratulate myself on the small achievement. Then because I did something, that becomes justification to do nothing else. It'd be different if what I was attempting actually took my out of my comfort zone, or required a real commitment, but I don't do those things when I'm down.

I've set up a camp on a small piece of 'safe' land in the swamp.  I never try anything big. I avoid leaving the house except when I have to.  I avoid offering to help/socialize/interact with people, and I completely avoid tackling any creative project that requires real effort and passion. It becomes a sort of wall, and if I stay within it, then maybe just maybe I won't wind up failing, I won't wind up trying anything that might fail, and so I won't fail myself.

I don't want to drown in the swamp. So rather than trying to swim, I'll just avoid going near the water.
This is the stage of depression, this form of self limiting behavior, that's so easy to get stuck in. Even people who don't think they are depressed, don't think they've ever been depressed get trapped here. You aren't really happy. You aren't miserable, but you aren't enjoying life either.  It creeps in, and you tell yourself all the little lies: that you never really wanted to try for that dream, or that you never really cared for the friends you've lost touch with. You aren't really hurting, you aren't really sad, you're just existing.

Sometimes I wonder how much of my life I wasted just letting life pass me by because the depression and my own insecurity kept me from trying. I wonder how many of those years where I didn't really do all that much are actually a product of me becoming complacent in my own apathy.

Let me make sure I explain. It's okay to have a life where you stay at home, work on your own hobbies and enjoy a quiet life. There is nothing wrong with a peaceful life. What matters is what you feel about your life. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing in some way because I'm NOT a stepford wife. I don't have a clean house and I'm perpetually disorganized and I just don't care if clutter piles up. But having a clean house or a perfect kitchen isn't what makes me happy. If you are legitimately happy and satisfied in your life then you aren't camping in the swamp.

I'm not in the swamp because I want to be here. I'm here because I'm afraid to leave right now. I hate the voice in my head that is constantly shooting down my hopes. I hate the crippling uncertainty that makes me feel convinced that my next attempt at anything meaningful will fail. I hate the fact that life starts to become a meaningless blur. So many days that don't matter, weeks and months that go by without me doing anything outside my very small circle of what makes me ...not happy... but safe. I hate the tired weariness that comes with it. The sleep disruptions, the irritability.
I'm going to get help. I'm going to get out. I don't want to live here anymore.

I just hope that if you read this and see yourself, or if you know someone else who might be helped by this, that you're willing to share it with them. Help them get out. Its so very easy to believe, when your depressed, that you don't really deserve to be happy, and that nothing will get you there.
Just because you got lost in the swamp doesn't mean you should settle in to live there. There is more to life than settling for misery. Please, if you feel the same way, get help. Tell a friend, tell a doctor, call a hotline and if you can't get out of the swamp on your own, your friends can be the rescue team that shows you a way out.

Hang in there. It will get better.
Liz