Waiting for today...: Regrets

"In plain English, stress early in life makes us more vulnerable to stress la...

"In plain English, stress early in life makes us more vulnerable to stress later in life. The evidence for this can be seen in multiple physiological an... - Nyawela Gianna - Google+

Friday, October 10

Regrets


I have collected many regrets over the course of my short life.  Insecurity and low self-esteem have perpetuated those efforts.  The negative thought patterns of my depressed mind has also helped.   Although I’m confident as I continue my process of self-discovery (learning to put those negative thoughts in their rightful place, to accept past disappointments and heal from them), regret still finds me when I’m depressed.   This time, I’ve allowed it to take away a little piece of my hope.
I had hoped that as fall approached I would have made enough progress to stave off another lengthy episode of depression and start living again.  My birthday is a month away.  I’ll be thirty-six.  And I’m still waiting, stuck; watching the days, weeks and months go by trying to hold myself together as depression continues to pound on me. Other than obeying the gospel in 2011 and seeking treatment in 2013, I feel like I haven’t done anything else with my life since graduating from nursing school in 2006. For years I’ve abandoned my own ambitions in constant search of acceptance from a select few.  Having shaken the need for acceptance and validation, I’m now saddened at how much time has been lost.
For over eleven years depression has mercilessly drained me of time, energy and joy. The realist in me believes that this will not be my last bout.  Farewell time.  Peace out energy.  And as I continue to rummage through my past to find its origin, I have a sneaking suspicion that I may unearth other derangements.  Sayonara joy.   After several medication adjustments and barely muddling through, I just can’t put anything past fate.
But for now, I've come to realize that finding the root of my depression and reconciling it is not enough.  Therapy, a medication regimen and goal charts are not enough. Lifestyle changes, including avoiding those triggers that have the potential to give rise to another episode… is not enough.  There is no recess between episodes or self-care holidays in my near future.  Every new project, every event must be approached with much consideration of its potential to tip the balance.

I feel like a child when I say “I can only do so many things at one time”.  Yet it’s the truth.  For the first time, I have a greater understanding what it will mean to live with depression.   That “learning to live” is the one thing that I must continually do.  Even between episodes.  No planning for travel abroad, volunteering, leisure study.  No honing my skills in tennis, photography or anything else I’m minutely interested in.  No, not right now.  With the exception of learning to be a child of God, managing my depression takes precedence.  It’s a stifling eye-opener.  A tight rope my ambitious heart will have a difficult time walking.