Mental health post #3: Depressed But Still Functional

Last time I talked about my experience during my first major depressive episode. That wasn’t my first experience overall, just the one I consider the most severe. I also had a pretty gnarly time the first time I went abroad when I was an French-speaking au pair in Belgium between my sophomore and junior years of college. (I’ll talk more about that time at a later date.). And of course PPD (postpartum depression) came back a few times.

But today I want to talk about the times I was depressed but still functional. These were the times when I felt bad, but could still fake it well in public and around even acquaintances. When I felt that way, I was not quite as broken as when I was having a major depressive episode. (When I say broken, I do not mean that in a hyperbolic sense, I mean it in the way that you break a spirit in a horse). Instead of crying, I was irritable and constantly angry. The littlest things could set me off like chewing (misophonia you wretched punk!), sudden loud sounds, and not having my basic physical needs met (hunger, thirst, fatigue, hypoglycemia, etc).

Another thing I discovered, long before I read about it in the literature was how easily I startled. Derek could come clumping up our loud wooden stairs and when he would talk to me, I would jump about 10 feet. Every tiny thing made me jump!

I also became more attached to home and had a harder time going to activities outside of it. It was sort of like being in the fetal position, but mentally. I didn’t have the energy to engage in social events or be around groups of people I knew.

Physically, I still struggled with insomnia, tho not as severely, and I actually tended to overeat to the point of gaining weight I did not need. Sort of a self-medicating with food perhaps? Sleeping too much hasn’t really ever been a problem because even when depressed, I tend to still need to get up and do things. But I know it can be an issue for many with depression.

There is certainly a component of anxiety in this as with the profound depression. I was strung as tight as a bow and could not handle small disappointments and changes to my routine. As I look back now, in some ways I feel like I behaved in a similar fashion to a toddler in these ways. I should talk next about anxiety because that is my kryptonite and something that I think is romanticized in a different but just as unethical way as depression.

Edit: forgot to give an honorary mention to Sol’s latest blep…