It's been 4 months or so since I quit taking my antidepressant medication. Lately I'm frankly quite scared. I can feel depression, as if it has physical substance, and it is pushing against the door to my room. I try to evade it by closing out thoughts about it, but it is starting to seep through, even without my conscious consent. I'm having fits of anger and bitter thoughts and Eeyore thoughts. It is getting much harder to shut down the engine of gloom once it starts up. I've been in a general malaise for a few weeks; I have to expend so much effort to do the simplest things.
I don't understand what causes this or why it seems to be a separate parasitic entity, sucking life from me. Isn't all of it just Me?
While I was on the medication I read a book or two about depression. A main emphasis in all the (good) books was on building healthy patterns into one's life while under the "protective" influence of medication, so that when the medication safety net is removed and depression lurks (and it will), there will be "checks and balances" in place to combat it with.
Yeah, so I didn't really do that.
I haven't wanted to write. I've been avoiding other people, public places, and personal hygiene.
An ironic aspect of depression is that it shuts me down and cuts me off from everyone but what I need is people and exercise and action. The thing is I don't want to do anything or see anyone or talk.
At this point, having known for a 3/4 of a year what it is to think like a "normal", relatively healthy person, I'm terrified of going back. I'm not sure yet what I'm going to do, but I need to make a plan. And part of that is writing about it (after all, a said purpose of this blog is personal journaling). Also (and this is new for me) it means that a few other people know my secret. That's uncomfortable. But maybe voicing some things outside my own head will propel me into action. Just don't anybody call me. ;)