depression lingers: an update
I always wonder if depression ever truly goes away. I don't mean learning how to "manage symptoms" (or whatever clinical phrasing psychiatrists use), but really gone, like it was never there to begin with. What is it like to live without carrying an invisible baggage?
I quit antidepressants three months ago, which is a modest milestone and an equally reckless gamble. At first, I convinced myself I was cured. Perhaps it was placebo (or blind hope?), but I desperately wanted to believe that depression was now a thing of the past. All the rotten work and chemical rewiring of medication had done their job, and I can finally close that chapter of my life.
But, to me, depression has a way of creeping back unannounced. Except recently, it didn't arrive in the violent, harrowing pain I once knew. No, it's been a dull heaviness, an aching reminder that this is not something I will fully be "cured" from, only learn to coexist with. That has been the cruelest reality about my depression: it lingers. Will this lurking weight continue to reassert its dominance in my life, every time I try to forget?
I sometimes envy those who can say, Oh, I used to be depressed, and actually mean it, clear and final. Because my own experience has been more cyclical: Even in moments when I feel “better,” there’s always a shadow, a small, ominous voice warning that it could return.
Still, I cannot deny progress. A year ago, I drowned beneath its weight, while now, I can at least stay afloat. Once, I believed I was irreparably broken, now I am realizing I can keep moving forward, even while carrying this heaviness in me.
I'm learning to stop grieving the illusion of a life unscarred by depression. That version of reality simply doesn't exist for me. What I can do - no, what I must do - is shape a life that contains it but leaves enough room for joy.