It’s been a bit over three years since I was officially diagnosed with depression and started with therapy and medication. I can say without hesitation that overall, my life is much improved over 3+ years ago.
Manic depression diagnosis at 18. Now referred to as bipolar. Diagnosed as HIV positive on June 4, 2004.
Dude.
(hug)
Despite the unending media of "a pill for that" what gets lost is that there is a disconnect between the messages we're told and the sense we get "and the next day".
In classes I talk about this, a lot. That we're approached with the model of going to a doctor because something's broken. And we get a pill or a test or a support and things heal. And there's an endpoint. The day after that we're fine.
With things like depression or diabetes or whatever? There's no day after the moment it's all better. It sucks, it's hard because people want that to be either cleared up as "oh, ONLY chronic" or "but you have a pill now". As if either of those things are packed away forever. It's a constant journey, is what we're really saying. Never stopping, never being in the same place twice, never ending.
It can sound depressing or hard or even like a good thing. Depending.
The hard hard bit is that it's just that. A journey. A motion. We don't get to stop. We have to learn to live moving and having a next day, and next and next after that. It's weird because it doesn't really fit the model of "broken and then fixed".
(shrug) I'm still figuring out how to articulate it to people in such a way that they get that it's not about sitting down and giving up nor is it about just being better now. It's about both. And neither.
The thing that I'm trying to get at is that you are not alone out there. Not that you asked or are looking for that or I can validate you. Or make it better. Just... when you forget or it fades, come back and remember this. You're not alone.
Sorry, not trying to be an ass, just... I know there are days when I need that. It's what I can offer. Solidarity. If it's inappropriate right now, I apologize.
You're not being an ass, and this makes sense. At least to me.
It reminds me a bit of the Zen saying, "Before Enlightenment: chop wood, carry water. After Enlightenment: chop wood, carry water." Only it's before/after diagnosis, instead.
It doesn't really work, because I wasn't chopping wood or carrying water before the diagnosis ... but I think it captures that sense of an ongoing journey.
I'll need to think about it a bit more to see if I can make that quote fit.
On the other side you're chopping pine, stacking wood.
The point is life and all of the bits that happen on either side of the diagnosis. On one hand it's as profound as a shift in species of tree you're cutting, on the other... it's still wood.
Diagnosed as HIV positive on June 4, 2004.
Dude.
(hug)
Despite the unending media of "a pill for that" what gets lost is that there is a disconnect between the messages we're told and the sense we get "and the next day".
In classes I talk about this, a lot. That we're approached with the model of going to a doctor because something's broken. And we get a pill or a test or a support and things heal. And there's an endpoint. The day after that we're fine.
With things like depression or diabetes or whatever? There's no day after the moment it's all better. It sucks, it's hard because people want that to be either cleared up as "oh, ONLY chronic" or "but you have a pill now". As if either of those things are packed away forever. It's a constant journey, is what we're really saying. Never stopping, never being in the same place twice, never ending.
It can sound depressing or hard or even like a good thing. Depending.
The hard hard bit is that it's just that. A journey. A motion. We don't get to stop. We have to learn to live moving and having a next day, and next and next after that. It's weird because it doesn't really fit the model of "broken and then fixed".
(shrug) I'm still figuring out how to articulate it to people in such a way that they get that it's not about sitting down and giving up nor is it about just being better now. It's about both. And neither.
The thing that I'm trying to get at is that you are not alone out there. Not that you asked or are looking for that or I can validate you. Or make it better. Just... when you forget or it fades, come back and remember this. You're not alone.
Sorry, not trying to be an ass, just... I know there are days when I need that. It's what I can offer. Solidarity. If it's inappropriate right now, I apologize.
Reply
It reminds me a bit of the Zen saying, "Before Enlightenment: chop wood, carry water. After Enlightenment: chop wood, carry water." Only it's before/after diagnosis, instead.
It doesn't really work, because I wasn't chopping wood or carrying water before the diagnosis ... but I think it captures that sense of an ongoing journey.
I'll need to think about it a bit more to see if I can make that quote fit.
Reply
On the other side you're chopping pine, stacking wood.
The point is life and all of the bits that happen on either side of the diagnosis. On one hand it's as profound as a shift in species of tree you're cutting, on the other... it's still wood.
Reply
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