I had a good session with my doctor last Saturday. He’s happy with how my mood has picked up and how I’ve taken concrete steps to look for a job and to keep myself occupied. It has been a long journey as I was depressed for more than a year.
When I’m depressed I feel numb. When my sisters reach out to me I do not feel their love. When I eat I do not taste. When I speak I do not say anything. When I see a hot chick I do not feel horny. The only time I socialised was in my dreams.
There was one thing that I consistently felt - desperation. I was desperate to get back into a manic phase. Only then I’ll feel comfortable in my own skin because I’ll be productive, entertaining, adventurous – basically feeling on top of the world.
I was hoping that the anti-depressants will do the trick as my doctor has been upping the dosages and trying different brands. But they didn’t so I took matters into my own hands. I tried smoking weed again but it made me sadder and paranoid. I drank beer in the morning but all it gave me was a hangover. Then I went to a few clinics to score sleeping pills, mix them with beer but all it gave me were delusions.
There are some days I do feel a little more upbeat. But when I look into my wallet, there’s no money inside because I haven’t been working for a long time. I look at my car and it’s damaged in so many places. So I’d switch on the TV and lie on the couch. I surrendered to my predicament.
Now my thoughts are more lucid. I realised that even if my doctor was to give me 10 anti-depressants a day, my mood will not change if I don’t make attempts to change the reality. And I can’t get into the manic phase because when I was manic I had a career and the means to lead a rock & roll lifestyle.
So do I want to be manic again? The answer is a half-hearted yes. Because now I realised that mania is not just my muse, it’s also my bitch.