Lately, I have been feeling a bit sad. Beyond normal. Tinges of depression, I fear.
As extensive as my past is with depression, I have had the benefit of largely escaping it for the past five years. What has limited me more recently is my schizophrenia.
But I am even getting tired of talking about it. As empowering as it has been thus far, revealing the gritty details of my illness… it gets me down too.
At times, I watch documentaries on YouTube about people with disabilities and disfigurements. My heart goes to people, and it is nice to see the human spirit triumph even in the face of challenges.
But maybe I am pulling myself too far. Maybe I should stop watching the videos.
I’ve been watching for years. But as I watched today, a thought hit me. Am I a person who has a disability too? An invisible disfigurement, if you will?
The answer is yes, possibly. Indeed, I’ve been on disability for five years now. And this is depressing.
But I don’t want to think of myself in this way! I want to be strong and unimpeded and normal. Thankfully, due to medications, I am now living this dream.
But now depression is potentially returning again. I know I have been more distracted at work than usual. I took the week off, and I’m hoping things improve. I recently tried to attempt eating less meat, which in the past has caused me to feel depressed. It’s happening again, I fear.
I guess maybe what could have started it was me, going online, trying to do some dating. I haven’t been myself since that started about a month ago. This is why I’m so afraid of dating.
Right now, I’m letting myself eat some extra grilled turkey breast now. Maybe I’m saying the wrong things, talking about being distracted at work. But I want to be safe. And reaching out to all of you… that is me being safe.
Today, I said to myself: 2 steps forward, 1 step back. That is a phrase that has gotten me through some tough times.
I think this blog post is a bit disjunct. I just get scared. I get scared that everything I have worked for will one day disappear again, and I’ll never be able to get it back. The fear is so real, especially because… mental illness doesn’t “make sense.”
You can’t take medications, and be confident that they always will work for the rest of your life.
You can’t be 100% sure that you will have a future that is not in a hospital.
You can’t be 100% sure that you can remain stable enough to work thirty more years until retirement.
And so on.
Hey! I had meat! And now I feel better.
Uncanny, how food really determines how we feel. It’s true… earlier today, still feeling down, I went to Bareburger and had an organic salad with chicken. That picked me up… but I needed more meat in me. I know a lot of vegetarians and vegans really tout the superiority of their diets, but for me? I start to feel anemic, and the thoughts start. The depression. The psychosis.
I remember an episode with my mother’s dog. Normally, he eats high-quality food, and he is chill, friendly and quiet. And then one time, he ate some cheap IAMS or something. He started barking and running in circles. He turned into an annoying dog with the bad food!
I have turned my life around with food as well. Four years ago, I was at my heaviest. By changing what I eat… no more. That’s another story though 🙂
What also helps me, is reading other people’s stories. The more I write, the less I read. Maybe I should take a break and learn something 😛