Tsunami

I thought for a long time that will-power alone could conquer the depression. It was purely an environmentally-induced affliction — I mean, who could doubt it was “nurture” rather than “nature”, given the shitty family I was born into? Anyone would be depressed in those circumstances.

Yup, it was all about maintaining an even keel. After a horrible few months of yo-yo moods in 1997 I started 1998 on a totally different foot. Started swimming and more or less gave up alcohol, cigarettes, and men; tried to give up caffeine but the stubborn headaches were too much. This new regimen seemed to work okay for a while, but then I got married. Yo-yo moods once again, though after a while they eventually settled down.

After the roller coaster ride had abated for a couple of years, I felt a sense of pride and satisfaction. I had kicked it! I was well! And I did it without antidepressants or therapy — just force of will.

What I didn’t realize was that throughout all those years I was depressed; I didn’t recognize it as depression because it wasn’t part of a horrible roller coaster of moderate highs (or normal moods) and utter crash. I didn’t find very many activities enjoyable, but this anhedonia, I thought, was just part of my personality and no big deal.

But then I got back on the roller coaster and I’m still on it now. What I’ve realized in the past year is that what other people call “depression” is not what I call “depression”; it’s what I call a normal mood. My depressions are so black and terrifying that people who see them up close usually disappear from my life, including the people who say to me, “if you need someone to talk to, call me. I was depressed myself, after I lost my job/my mother died/I quit the PhD program….”

So now I know better. I can’t control the mood, but I can control my behavior: when it’s really bad I can disappear so that no one else has to see it; at other times, I’ve become quite good at acting like a normal person in the situations where it matters.

But the mood just washes over me and carries me away like a tsunami regardless. Early this year I made some changes to avoid the highs that precipitate the crushing lows: I quit caffeine, reduced the amount of alcohol I drank, and avoided social situations involving more than two or three people, but I’m still stuck in a living hell. I have no control over it. It controls me.