Pressing The Reset Button

Tuesday, September 22nd, 2009

I have a history with depression. Over the years I have tried a bunch of things (antidepressants, therapy, exercise, acupunture) to get me out of a funk but really the best way to combat depression is to avoid getting depressed AT ALL COSTS.

For the most part, I’ve gotten really good at self-regulating so that I don’t go down the road to Depressionland. I do things like check in with myself , “Self, did you wear pajamas all weekend? It’s Sunday for chrissakes! Go outside, get some sunshine! Did you take your vitamins? Are you sleeping alright? Do you remember what the inside of a gym looks like? Are you talking to Jon Stewart again – like he can hear you through the computer screen?” I keep asking myself these types of things every so often just so that I “self-correct” waaaay before I get on that rocky road – hopefully avoiding the whole trip altogether.

Clearly, it didn’t happen this time.

I find that when I do end up in Depressionland, I tend to pull up the covers and get comfortable. I’m in it to stay for a while, getting lost in complacency. It’s not until Rome is burning around me that I make the choice to start living again. But literally, it sometimes takes Rome to fucking burn down to the ground before I’ll do something about it. I don’t have a regular alarm system that tells me that the roof is on fire. I have to force myself to peek over the covers.

Recently, my doctor (Hi Rebecca if you are reading this!), put me on “meds.” Which means that I am back on antidepressants for the next several months to help nudge me back into the world of the living. I know, that sounds so dramatic. It’s not, really. My life is not bad, but it could be so much better. In fact, I imagine it being so much better. The problem is is that when I am depressed it’s “all imagination” and never a set of concrete actions.

But seriously, it’s not like I am sleeping all the time or having crying fits, but rather I’m living just to keep the “the machine” functioning from day to day to day – with each day passing like the one prior to it. If you were wondering, for someone who is trying to make a living off of their writing, living a mundane life is not conducive to being creative (at least not for me). One can only talk about “going somewhere” for so long. At this point, the rubber needs to meet the road and I need to get on with it. Get to where I am going.

So here I am. On the brink of a new adventure. About to move out of my old house and into a new one. And more accurately, out of my old life and into a different one. For the first time in my adult life, I am moving somewhere that I am choosing to live – not because of a boyfriend, or a best friend or a job. I am moving because I need a change and even though this may not be the right kind of change, it’s one that I am going to embrace with an open heart and a pocketful of antidepressants (for good measure).

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