This is the first of a few posts that have been formulating for some time (and didn’t really have a home anywhere else on the internet that I frequent, hence this blog). Its catalyst, however, lies in a comment to a recent post at the excellent FWD, Question Time: Fantasy Assistive Devices – well worth reading, not least of which for the ideas. (I too long for the magic bra!)
But in it, Kaz makes a rather telling comment:
I could come up with more but I’ll leave it at that for now… hmm. I can’t help but wonder how shocked!!! shocked I tell you!!! many abled people would be at our lists, seeing as there’s very little along the lines of “make my disability go away”, but mostly “something to ameliorate XYZ annoying aspect of it” and quite a bit “something for when people are being annoying about my disability.” It’s almost as if most of us feel pretty okay with the way things are. Who would ever have guessed?!?!
That rang true for me in a way that I hadn’t expected. Even at my worst, even at my lowest, I’ve never really had the thought that I wish I wasn’t depressed. I’ve wished many things – that I could function, that I could stop with the suicide ideation, that I had the energy to get through the day, but they are all wishes to ameliorate the symptoms, not to rid myself of the illness.
Ultimately, I am coming to accept that depression is part of who I am – a part, not the whole, but it’s not insignificant. It played a huge role in my teen years, and though I wouldn’t wish the memories of self-harm and alcohol abuse that I carry around with me on anyone, without those experiences I wouldn’t be the adult I am. Similarly with this latest bout of depression, the one that has taken me down new avenues of medication and finally led me to the conclusion that I really do have an illness, rather than simply being a fuck-up. It’s made me grow up, learn more about myself, and perceive the world in a way that I can only hope is more mature.
Could I have achieved those things without depression? Almost certainly. But we all have our journeys, and I’m beginning to understand that this one is mine.
Of course, I write this on an upswing, a time when the meds are working pretty well. I may look back on this in a week, a month, a year, laugh bitterly and burst into tears. So it goes. But maybe the next time that happens, I’ll be ready.
Oh, and for the record, these are my top three fantasy assistive devices:
+ Some kind of mobile audio device I can send to lectures and meetings in order to listen and speak on the days when I can’t get out of bed, so I don’t fall so behind.
+ A robot friend to cook on the days I can’t so I keep up good nutrition, and clean up on the days I can’t so my room stays vaguely inhabitable. Must also give good hugs.
+ Some sort of flashing light code/system to signal to friends and family how I’m feeling that day and how I’d like them to handle it, to save all that pesky ‘talking’ business. Settings would range from ‘leave me alone/pretend you haven’t noticed’ to ‘watch stupid TV with me/let me cry on your shoulder if you have the time’.
~ Rea
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December 9, 2009 at 3:11 am
shutupmonica
As a fellow person with depression, your devices sound exactly perfect. My robot friend would be able to go to the grocery store and get ingredients, too. And it would nag me to leave my room at least once during my waking hours and/or alert a designated person (possibly a rotation of people, so that I’m not calling on the same friend every weekend) that I haven’t left, and therefore I need some human companionship, so if you have an hour come watch TV with me.
Although for the mobile/audio device, have you considered hooking up Skype? This is my first visit to your blog (via FWD/Forward) so I’m not sure exactly what your work(/school?) environment is like, or if this is remotely feasible, BUT. The chemistry department at my school is hiring, and one of our faculty members is away on leave, so they’ve been hooking her up via Skype and a microphone for all of the candidates’ guest lectures and research talks. It doesn’t seem to be terribly difficult to do (installing the program, which is free; having an internet connection, which could be a barrier depending on the situation; having a computer in the room; having a microphone; and knowing how to hook up the microphone to the computer).
So if you’re in a situation where you feel comfortable asking for that kind of accommodation, and the people with whom you are working are able and willing to grant it, your mobile audio device is really not so far off; the downside is dependence on other people to hook it up. I just thought I’d run it by you in case it was something you hadn’t considered–I know how annoying “helpful suggestions” can be but while I genuinely think this is different, I apologize if it isn’t.
As for wanting to make depression easier to live with but not get rid of it… I’m of two minds. My schtick is really that I’ve had generalized anxiety disorder my entire life, and it was only diagnosed in the throes of my second major depressive episode (six months ago), that whether or not I could get rid of it is almost irrelevant. Without it, I wouldn’t be me anymore, because all of my quirks, all of my likes and dislikes, have emerged from trying to cope with it. And that has led me to amazing online communities, including FWD/Forward and Shakesville and Shapely Prose, and knitting, and loving books and learning, and when I’m not depressed and severely anxious, I am generally happy with who I am.
But when I am depressed, hysterical and suicidal, held captive by the twisted architecture of my own thought processes–I would absolutely trade my intelligence (which I have considered to be my defining characteristic for the majority of my life) for a life free of panic attacks and public crying and ridiculous nightmares and limitations that set me apart from my peers and the exhaustion that comes from lying every time an acquaintance asks me “how are you?” and the feeling that goes beyond feeling and into certainty that I am worthless. Absolutely. In less than a heartbeat. Thankfully, it’s not quite that bad most of the time.