Balancing Depression: Keeping the Plates Spinning

Those who don’t know me well might be surprised to know that I struggle with depression, and have for some time now. I cycle between having enough energy to masquerade as a human being, with bright eyes and a clean face, and being a strange cave goblin hiding in a hoodie, sleepwalking through the world as I go from home to work and back again. My doctor tells me it’s a co-morbidity of my autism diagnosis, along with my anxiety and panic disorders. I tell him it’s also probably the C-PTSD. He agrees with me.

This is the foundation of our relationship. I tell him I have a shorter temper. He changes my medication. I tell him I can’t sleep. He recommends talk therapy. I try talk therapy. It’s too expensive to do regularly so I have to stop. I still can’t sleep. I’m more short-tempered. He changes my medication. Rinse and repeat.

I’m okay for four days out of five, then three days out of five, then four again, then two, then four. The weeks where I can be okay for all five days of the work week are further and further in between. Sometimes it’s because of pain– a compacted L4-L5 joint sends pain spiking through my hip if I do such strenuous activities as bending down or crossing my legs when I sit. Sometimes it’s due to sensory needs. Loud second graders are not great when you have hyperacusis and sound sensitivities. And sometimes, it’s watching my book sales dwindle down after an initial rush in the first few weeks. There are many things that could make me Not Okay, and also many things that can make me feel a little more okay.

The last few weeks of autumn are spiraling down around us, with the leaves from Japanese maple trees floating through the air. They create negative space constellations against the grey November sky, constantly moving and shifting into new patterns. It finally smells like autumn too; drying leaves and a hint of frost on the air in the early morning. There is enough of a chill that warm coffee tastes even more delicious, especially with a warm scone to eat with it. It’s cold enough that I can start baking again, so long as I have enough energy to bake. I hope that I will this year. I miss baking.

This post was originally meant to be a musing on how to keep things moving and spinning even when you’re depressed. Unfortunately, I don’t really have any words of wisdom to share on that subject. All I know how to do is keep my own plates spinning, and hope that if I drop one, it isn’t too fragile.