Blogging might also be about saving my state of mind for posterity and for myself. This applies also one’s mental and physical health. Besides, writing might be about taking a burden off one’s chest, giving some relief in despondency.
With the black dog barking in my head I strive to pursue a normal life. Getting up from bed, going to work, socialising, doing sports, not letting this shitty pest overcome you, although it tries hard. As I am writing this, I realise those who haven’t experienced it, are unlikely to be sympathetic. If a fever or a physical pain causes difficulties in functioning it seems natural, but when a mental pain, caused by a defunct brain, plays havoc with you, it is harder to grasp.
Self-awareness raised over years of struggling the depression is paying off now. I see several upsides. I have no s*****e thoughts, I have no feeling of guilt, my self-esteem is intact. I realise pessimism in my head is about flawed chemistry in my brain and once medicines begin to work, my spirits will be somewhat lifted.
Talking about pharmaceuticals, I have taken up a full (though lowest therapeutic) dose since 23 September, hence it is too early to talk about any outcomes (they should appear after 2 – 6 weeks, provided they work this time and the dosage is sufficient). Fortunately, dryness in my mouth is the only major side effect.
Waking up early, i.e. around 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. and inability to fall asleep again is exhaustive at the moment and once I begin to sleep more restfully, both body and mind should revive.
Anxiety keeps me company from the very moment of waking up. It wanes after I get up, but then fluctuates over the day. Sometimes basic activities trigger fear, which I realise is unjustified and needs to be fought over.
The feeling of meaninglessness does not let go and most probably will not ease off for a while. Questions such as: “what for?” (“po co?”), “and so what then?” (“no i co z tego?”) or assertion “it makes no sense anyway” (“to i tak bez sensu”) keep me company nearly all time round. Nevertheless I do things despite them. I try to rationalise it and tell myself I’m better off with doing things rather than refraining from them, but it sparks little forward-looking optimism.
Doing my bit for a while does not seem sufficient to find my self-fulfilment, therefore I aim to get by for a while and not pressure myself to "get my act together" too quickly. The “prolonged sadness” will be endured, with some fortitude, but also a proper dose of leniency towards myself.
