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This is an entry I am putting up mostly as a mental tag to myself. Because memory is unreliable, and sometimes I want to make sure I have nailed down in writing a thing which I might not remember properly later.
In Pittsburgh, I spent a whole lot of time doing a whole lot of nothing. I was there for about two years, and I don't really remember what I did for most of that time. Walking back from the grocery store, sitting in the tea shop with my laptop... I'm not sure how I occupied two years with "stared at my computer" and "sometimes walked to the library". In retrospect: depression. Yeah.
Back in Austin, it took a while for me to figure out that maybe I shouldn't be spending quite so many days effectively staring at the wall all day. Went into therapy. I was (and remain) pretty damn lucky: a supportive spouse and the finances to pay for therapy are not available to everyone. Also pretty lucky that it seems to be mostly a mental configuration thing, rather than a chemical thing.
Because, see, therapy worked. It wasn't always perfect, and I had a polite parting after about a year with my therapist because we didn't agree on some things, but...it worked. There was a while in there where my big goal for every day was to get out of bed before noon and leave the house at least once a day. Because these were the minimum happiness-inducing things that I could reliably manage if I really, really tried. I had all three of my meals listed on my to-do lists for months, because it was one of the only ways to remember to eat regularly. And things like "interact with a friend" and "leave the house."
And...I'm better now.
Perfect? Ha. No. Especially if I'm not careful about my sleeping and eating. I have days of pointless woe, and days where I get nothing done, and days where I get things done and still feel like I'm a horrible miserable failure because it wasn't enough. (One thing I learned from the therapist: it's never enough, because the Horrible Miserable Failure voice doesn't care about facts.)
But. I'm better now. There are very seldom days where I spend the entire day feeling encased in gelatin, where I can barely convince myself to stand up and do something I enjoy instead of staring blankly ahead hitting refresh on a website I don't even care about. I get up before noon regularly. I eat (mostly) regularly. I get writing done. I get to classes on time, and my homework done. I stress about being a good student, or about how I should do more writing, instead of about how my not being Successful and Published and a Good Housekeeper means I'm a bad person who will never amount to anything.
Things were bad in my head. They got a lot better. I'm writing this down so that on the bad days, I can go back and remember that things do get better, and they have gotten better, and they can continue to get better. It is not hopeless.
And now I'm going to go get coffee. It's one of those things that improves life.
In Pittsburgh, I spent a whole lot of time doing a whole lot of nothing. I was there for about two years, and I don't really remember what I did for most of that time. Walking back from the grocery store, sitting in the tea shop with my laptop... I'm not sure how I occupied two years with "stared at my computer" and "sometimes walked to the library". In retrospect: depression. Yeah.
Back in Austin, it took a while for me to figure out that maybe I shouldn't be spending quite so many days effectively staring at the wall all day. Went into therapy. I was (and remain) pretty damn lucky: a supportive spouse and the finances to pay for therapy are not available to everyone. Also pretty lucky that it seems to be mostly a mental configuration thing, rather than a chemical thing.
Because, see, therapy worked. It wasn't always perfect, and I had a polite parting after about a year with my therapist because we didn't agree on some things, but...it worked. There was a while in there where my big goal for every day was to get out of bed before noon and leave the house at least once a day. Because these were the minimum happiness-inducing things that I could reliably manage if I really, really tried. I had all three of my meals listed on my to-do lists for months, because it was one of the only ways to remember to eat regularly. And things like "interact with a friend" and "leave the house."
And...I'm better now.
Perfect? Ha. No. Especially if I'm not careful about my sleeping and eating. I have days of pointless woe, and days where I get nothing done, and days where I get things done and still feel like I'm a horrible miserable failure because it wasn't enough. (One thing I learned from the therapist: it's never enough, because the Horrible Miserable Failure voice doesn't care about facts.)
But. I'm better now. There are very seldom days where I spend the entire day feeling encased in gelatin, where I can barely convince myself to stand up and do something I enjoy instead of staring blankly ahead hitting refresh on a website I don't even care about. I get up before noon regularly. I eat (mostly) regularly. I get writing done. I get to classes on time, and my homework done. I stress about being a good student, or about how I should do more writing, instead of about how my not being Successful and Published and a Good Housekeeper means I'm a bad person who will never amount to anything.
Things were bad in my head. They got a lot better. I'm writing this down so that on the bad days, I can go back and remember that things do get better, and they have gotten better, and they can continue to get better. It is not hopeless.
And now I'm going to go get coffee. It's one of those things that improves life.