Baby steps

I have written about my personal experiences with depression before. In fact, I wrote about it in this very paper just last year. But then, this summer, I went through what felt very much like a relapse, and I realized that I had failed to fully understand my own experience. As a result, I had not been able to communicate it in its entirety.

I think I was trying to separate my current self from my past experiences. I wanted to be the poster child of “post-depression success.” I wanted to be the kid who beat depression, the kid whose story helped others fight through the tough times. Somewhere in between that, the rawness and complexity of my daily struggles was lost.

Depression is like being at war with yourself. It makes you feel alone and purposeless. Couple that with anxiety, in the form of panic attacks, and you’re left feeling like you can’t breathe and as if the walls of even the vastest of rooms are closing in on you. It feels like there is no escape. I was reminded of this when I recently had a few weeks of persistent panic attacks. During that whole time, there was a fear in my head: will I hit rock bottom again?

I didn’t. But I went deep enough to realize that things aren’t as black and white for me as I wanted to believe. Depression wasn’t a thing of the past; it is still very much a part of me.

Last year, I said I was free from all the thoughts that disturbed me after a month of therapy and medicine. That was what I wanted to believe but was it true? I had been, more or less, on an upward trajectory. I was taking less pills. I was doing well. I still had a little blip now and then, and my OCD tendencies showed themselves in my actions but not to the extent that they interfered with my day-to-day life. At some level, I had become so used to some of my behaviors that I no longer recognized them as things that weren’t “normal.” I still have compulsive thoughts. I found a ring in my couch the other day and refused to touch it for a month because I thought doing so would cause something horrible to happen. That’s what living with OCD tendencies looks like. And I am learning to be okay with that. I am trying to challenge myself to go against these ideas that I have in my head, but I know taking care of myself is the priority, so it will all happen in good time. Baby steps.

I also said I was planning to eventually stop taking any medicine at all. I am not sure how I feel about that kind of a goal anymore. Why did I want to go off it? I felt a pressure to prove myself, a need to fulfill the ideals of success on my own without any anti-depressants as my crutches. At times, I even thought if this person, this person on pills, was really me? I wanted to feel like my feelings and my successes were valid. My self-confidence had turned into self-doubt. It is possible that I may need to take medicine for the rest of my life. And I am learning to be okay with that. It is a condition that I have, and I will not blame myself for it just like how I wouldn’t blame myself for having, say, diabetes. It will all happen in good time. Baby steps.

I am not trying to say depression doesn’t get better. It does. It definitely did for me. But it is a constant struggle in which I grapple with both the illness itself and the ways in which society and the media perceives me and want me to perceive myself. I wrestle with how taking medication makes me feel. I wrestle with my OCD tendencies. I wrestle with all the painful experiences that are undeniably a part of me. But when I can, I try to take a moment to acknowledge my struggles and just let them be. I try not to fight them; I try to let them breathe. And when I can, I try to recognize my efforts; I try to let them breathe. And sometimes, that moment spent becoming self-aware brings me peace of mind.

For now, self-acceptance is a beautiful place to be. Baby steps.